the same kind for about three hours, he returned to the door of the house, and received back from the messenger his own note, with the following words scrawled in pencil on the back of it:—"To-morrow, 10 p.m.—my chambers. A. H."
He was so far successful,—but 10 p.m.: what an hour Sir Abraham had named for a legal interview! Mr. Harding felt perfectly sure that long before that Dr. Grantly would be in London. Dr. Grantly could not, however, know that this interview had been arranged, nor could he learn it unless he managed to get hold of Sir Abraham before that hour; and as this was very improbable, Mr. Harding determined to start from his hotel early, merely leaving word that he should dine out, and unless luck were much against him, he might still escape the archdeacon till his return from the attorney-general's chambers.
He was at breakfast at nine, and for the twentieth time consulted his "Bradshaw," to see at what earliest hour Dr. Grantly could arrive from Barchester. As he examined the columns, he was nearly petrified by the reflection that perhaps the archdeacon might come up by the night mail-train! His heart sank within him at the horrid idea, and for a moment he felt himself dragged back to Barchester without accomplishing any portion of his object. Then he remembered that had Dr. Grantly done so, he would have been in the hotel, looking for him long since.
"Waiter," said he, timidly.
The waiter approached, creaking in his shoes, but voiceless.
"Did any gentleman—a clergyman, arrive here by the night mail-train?"
"No, sir, not one," whispered the waiter, putting his mouth nearly close to the warden's ear.
Mr. Harding was reassured.
"Waiter," said he again, and the waiter again creaked up.
