“His Excellency does not care to be spoken to,” I remarked.

The reporter—­his profession was quite obvious—­shook his head.

“I only wanted a word or two,” he said, “but he would not have anything to say to me.”

“I wonder if he is going to look over any of the ships that are building,” I remarked.

“There is nothing much in the yards,” the young man said, “except the two Brazilian battleships.  I don’t think that Hallidays are allowed to show any one over them unless they have a special permit from the Brazilian Government.”

I nodded.

“Fine ships, aren’t they?” I asked.

“The finest that have ever left the Tyne,” the young man answered enthusiastically.  “What a little country like Brazil can possibly want with the most powerful warships in the world no one can guess.  Are you on a London paper?” he asked me.

I nodded.

“I have followed them all the way down here,” I said, “but they have not a word to say.  By the bye,” I added, “did you know that the gentleman with the Chinese ambassador was a very prominent Brazilian?”

The reporter whistled softly.

“I wonder what that means!” he said.  “It sounds interesting, somehow.”

“Come and have a drink,” I said.

He accepted at once.

“What paper are you on?” he asked, as we crossed the street.

“To be honest with you,” I replied, “I am not on a paper at all.  I am not even a reporter.  I am interested in the visit of these two men to Newcastle for more serious reasons.”

The young man looked at me thoughtfully.  He slipped his arm through mine as though he intended never to let me go.  Evidently he scented a story.

“I suppose,” he said, “you mean that you are a detective?”

“No!” I answered, “scarcely that.  I can only tell you that it is my business to watch the movements of those two men.”

I could see from his manner that he believed me to be a government spy, or something of the sort.  We ordered our drinks and then turned, as though by common consent, once more to the window.  A motor-car was drawn up in front of the place, and an elderly man was descending hurriedly.

“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.