"Well, I don't wonder!" I said.
Long pauses fell between our fragments of speech. He stood before the square centre table, black-browed, staring at its glittering burden.
The footman appeared at the door. "If you please, sir, Hamley wishes to know if the dog-cart as well as the brougham and omnibus is to meet the 5.15 this evening?"
His master looked at the man with knit brows, as if making a painful effort to understand what was said. He pulled out his watch, and for a minute studied it.
"Tell Hamley," then he said, "not to meet the 5.15 at all. No one will come by that train. In ten minutes I shall want to send some telegrams."
The man, staring at the strange order, withdrew.
"You are going to stop the rest of the guests?" I asked.
"Of course. They were coming to the wedding. There will be no wedding."
"And Jack Marston? You can't telegraph this horrible thing to him!"
"Can't I? I shall."