Grimes brightened. 'What about that binge you promised me and Prendy?
'All right! said Paul. 'We'll have it tomorrow.
* * *
The Hotel Metropole, Cympryddyg, is by far the grandest hotel in the north of Wales. It is situated on a high and healthy eminence overlooking the strip of water that railway companies have gallantly compared to the Bay of Naples. It was built in the ample days preceding the war, with a lavish expenditure on looking‑glass and marble. To‑day it shows signs of wear, for it has never been quite as popular as its pioneers hoped. There are cracks in the cement on the main terrace, the winter garden is draughty, and one comes disconcertingly upon derelict bathchairs in the Moorish Court. Besides this, none of the fountains ever play, the string band that used to perform nightly in the ballroom has given place to a very expensive wireless set which one of the waiters knows how to operate, there is never any notepaper in the writing‑room, and the sheets are not long enough for the beds. Philbrick pointed out these defects to Paul as he sat with Grimes and Mr Prendergast drinking cocktails in the Palm Court before dinner.
'And it isn't as though it was really cheap, he said. Philbrick had become quite genial during the last few days. 'Still, one can't expect much in Wales, and it is something. I can't live without some kind of luxury for long. I'm not staying this evening, or I'd ask you fellows to dine with me.
'Philbrick, old boy, said Grimes, 'me and my pals here have been wanting a word with you for some time. How about those yarns you spun about your being a ship-owner and a novelist and a burglar?
'Since you mention it, said Philbrick with dignity, 'they were untrue. One day you shall know my full story. It is stranger than any fiction. Meanwhile I have to be back at the Castle. Good night.
'He certainly seems quite a swell here, said Grimes as they watched him disappear into the night escorted with every obsequy by the manager and the head‑waiter. 'I daresay he could tell a story if he wanted to.
'I believe it's their keys, said Mr Prendergast suddenly. It was the first time that he had spoken. For twenty minutes he had been sitting very upright in his gilt chair and very alert, his eyes unusually bright, darting this way and that in his eagerness to miss nothing of the gay scene about him.
'What's their keys, Prendy?