Benson had been waiting outside there ever since dinner.

Jimmie Dale, for the first time since the first communication that he had ever received from the Tocsin, did not immediately destroy her letter now.

He slipped it into his pocket--and stepped quickly from the room.
In the cloakroom downstairs he secured his hat and overcoat, and, though it was a warm evening, put on the latter since he was in evening clothes, then walked leisurely out of the club.
At the curb, Benson, the chauffeur, sprang from his seat, and, touching his cap, opened the door of a luxurious limousine.
Jimmie Dale shook his head.
"I shall not keep you waiting any longer, Benson," he said.

"You may take the car home, and put it up.

I shall probably be late to-night." "Very good, sir," replied the chauffeur.
"You sent in a letter a moment or so ago, Benson ?" observed Jimmie Dale casually, opening his cigarette case.
"Yes, sir," said Benson.