"You stay here till I come back, and go on eating, Jim," I directed, and grabbing my hat I rushed for the door.
"Stop, Ben! Don't you do a thing to-night," commanded Jim. "What can you do now? Don't you know you made a bad break the last time?"
But I kept right on and sent one more message from the nearest messenger office. It was directed to Miss Tescheron at her home and read:
"Don't recall those wedding invitations till you see me to-morrow.
"Benjamin Hopkins."
There was just enough of the indefinite in that, I imagined, to suspend operations; it would be a straw for the woman to clutch. She would not risk the unpleasant notoriety of a wedding postponement, if there could be a chance that she had acted impulsively at least, and had been misled by circumstantial evidence she had ignored till there came into the case the other-woman element. I did not fear the wound in her heart, unless the gangrene of jealousy entered to prevent the successful issue of my hastily arranged plan.
When I returned to the house, Jim was greatly disturbed.
"Ben, you have rushed out and sent another message; I can see it in your face," he said. "What can you be thinking of? Why did you not wait till to-morrow and talk this thing over?"
"You leave this matter to me," said I.
"Yes—I did that before."