"Hullo!" the reporter exclaimed. "That's Mr. Halliday, the head of the firm! They must have telephoned for him. He never comes down except on a Thursday. Let's watch and see what happens."
The shipbuilder entered his offices, and was gone for about a quarter of an hour. When he reappeared he was followed by two clerks, one of whom was carrying a great padlocked portfolio under each arm, and the other a huge roll of plans. They entered the motor-car and drove off.
"Come on," I said, finishing my drink hurriedly, "they are off to the County Hotel."
We took a hansom at the corner of the street, and, sure enough, when we arrived at the hotel Mr. Halliday's motor-car was waiting outside. We went at once into the office, where my companion was quite at home.
"Who's with the Chinaman?" he asked the manager, who greeted him cordially.
"A whole crowd," he answered. "First of all, Dickinson—Halliday's manager—came back with him, and the old man himself has just arrived with a couple of clerks."
"What's the game, do you suppose?" the reporter asked.
The hotel manager shrugged his shoulders.
"We're hoping it means orders," he said. "We can do with them. Hallidays could put on another twelve hundred men and not be crowded, and China's about the most likely customer they could get hold of just now."
"Which sitting-room are they in?" my friend asked.