Several of these were unoccupied, and he chose the one farthest from the entrance.

It was private enough; no one would disturb him.
From the aproned individual who presented himself he ordered a drink.
The man returned in a moment, and Jimmie Dale tossed a coin on the table, bidding the other keep the change.

He wanted no drink; the transaction was wholly perfunctory.

The waiter was gone; he pushed the glass away from him, and tore the envelope open.
A single sheet, closely written on both sides of the paper, was in his hand.

It was her writing; there was no mistaking that, but every word, every line bore evidence of frantic haste.