Jacques was in his room at the usual hour, eight o'clock; and Varbarriere started up in his bed at the sound of his voice, with a confused anticipation of a catastrophe. But the cheerful squire had nothing to relate except how charming was the morning, and to hand a letter to Monsieur.
Varbarriere's mind was not upon letters that morning, but on matters nearer home.
"General Lennox has not been down-stairs yet?"
"No, Monsieur."
"Nor Sir Jekyl?"
"No, Monsieur."
"Where's my watch? there—yes—eight o'clock. H'm. When does Lady Jane's maid go to her?"
"Not until the General has advanced himself pretty well in his toilet, the entrance being through his dressing-room."
"The General used to be down early?"
"Yes, Monsieur, half-past eight I remember."