Meanwhile, the solicitor, greatly elated at securing such a remunerative piece of work, sent the completed proposal to the head office of the company in London, and on the following day, accompanied by his wife, returned to his home in Manchester, after what had turned out to be a very profitable as well is beneficial holiday.
Before leaving, Mrs. Morrison arranged that he should carry the whole matter through, her parting injunction being:
"Remember—tell the Company to write to me at Upper Brook Street, and not to Scotland. And always write to me yourself to London."
Now that same evening, after Emery's departure, there arrived at the Beach Hotel, wearing rimless pince-nez, a dark, strongly-built man, well dressed, and with a heavy crocodile suit-case which spoke mutely of wealth. He signed the visitor's form as Pomeroy Graydon, and gave his address as "Carleon Road, Roath, Cardiff, Shipbroker."
He was late, and ate his dinner alone. Afterwards he went out for a stroll on the esplanade in the direction of the Little Orme, when, after walking nearly half a mile, he suddenly encountered the red-haired widow, who was attired plainly in navy blue with a small hat, having evidently changed her dress after dinner.
"Well, Ena!" he exclaimed, lifting his soft felt hat politely. "I'm here, you see! I thought it best to come up and see you. I'm at your hotel as Mr. Graydon of Cardiff."
"I'm awfully glad you've come, Bernie," she said. "I rather expected you."
"As soon as Lilla got your wire I started, and was fortunate to get to Euston just in time for the Irish mail—changed at Chester, and here I am!"
The pair strolled to a convenient seat close to where the waves lazily lapped upon the wall of the esplanade—for the tide was up—and the night a perfect one with a full white moon.
"Everything going well?" asked the smartly dressed man, whose pose in Hammersmith was so entirely different. He spoke in an eager tone.