The count, who was not in love, was not up, for our hero was half an hour earlier than the time appointed.

The old servant Ulick, who had attended his master to England, was very glad to see Lord Colambre again, and, showing him into the breakfast parlour, could not help saying, in defence of his master's punctuality-- 'Your clocks, I suppose, my lord, are half an hour faster than ours; my master will be ready to the moment.' The count soon appeared--breakfast was soon over, and the carriage at the door; for the count sympathised in his young friend's impatience.
As they were setting out, the count's large Irish dog pushed out of the house door to follow them and his master would have forbidden him, but Lord Colambre begged that he might be permitted to accompany them; for his lordship recollected the old woman's having mentioned that Mr.
Reynolds was fond of dogs.
They arrived in Red Lion Square, found the house of Mr.Reynolds, and, contrary to the count's prognostics, found the old gentleman up, and they saw him in his red night-cap at his parlour window.

After some minutes' running backwards and forwards of a boy in the passage, and two or three peeps taken over the blinds by the old gentleman, they were admitted.
The boy could not master their names; so they were obliged reciprocally to announce themselves--'Count O'Halloran and Lord Colambre.' The names seemed to make no impression on the old gentleman; but he deliberately looked at the count and his lordship, as if studying WHAT rather than WHO they were.

In spite of the red night-cap, and a flowered dressing-gown, Mr.Reynolds looked like a gentleman, an odd gentleman--but still a gentleman.
As Count O'Halloran came into the room, and as his large dog attempted to follow, the count's voice expressed: 'Say, shall I let him in, or shut the door ?' 'Oh, let him in, by all means, sir, if you please! I am fond of dogs; and a finer one I never saw; pray, gentlemen, be seated,' said he--a portion of the complacency inspired by the sight of the dog, diffusing itself over his manner towards the master of so fine an animal, and even extending to the master's companion, though in an inferior degree.
Whilst Mr.Reynolds stroked the dog, the count told him that 'the dog was of a curious breed, now almost extinct--the Irish greyhound, of which only one nobleman in Ireland, it is said, has now a few of the species remaining in his possession--Now, lie down, Hannibal,' said the count.

'Mr.Reynolds, we have taken the liberty, though strangers, of waiting upon you--' 'I beg your pardon, sir,' interrupted Mr.Reynolds; 'but did I understand you rightly, that a few of the same species are still to be had from one nobleman in Ireland?
pray, what is his name ?' said he, taking out his pencil.
The count wrote the name for him, but observed, that 'he had asserted only that a few of these dogs remained in the possession of that nobleman; he could not answer for it that they were TO BE HAD.' 'Oh, I have ways and means,' said old Reynolds; and, rapping his snuff-box, and talking, as it was his custom, loud to himself, 'Lady Dashfort knows all those Irish lords; she shall get one for me--ay! ay!' Count O'Halloran replied, as if the words had been addressed to him-- 'Lady Dashfort is in England.' 'I know it, sir; she is in London,' said Mr.Reynolds, hastily.