“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.

“Number 12,” the manager answered.  “I can’t do anything for you, though, Charlie,” he added.  “I’d do anything I could, but they have given special orders that no one is to interrupt them, and they decline to be interviewed by or communicate with any strangers.”

“I shall see the thing out, nevertheless,” my friend announced.

“And I,” I answered.  “Let’s have lunch together.  Is there a smart boy in the place who could let us know directly any one leaves the sitting-room?”

The manager smiled.

“Mr. Sinclair knows all about that, sir,” he said, pointing to my friend.  “I have nothing to say about it, of course.”

Sinclair left the room for a minute or two.  When he came back he nodded confidentially.

“I have a boy watching the door,” he said.  “The moment any one leaves we shall hear of it.”

We went into the restaurant and ordered lunch.  In about half an hour a small boy came hastily in and addressed Sinclair.

“They have ordered luncheon up in the sitting-room, sir,” he said.  “I thought I’d better let you know.”

“For how many?” Sinclair asked quickly.

“For four, sir,” he answered.  “I fancy the two clerks are coming out.  The door opened once, and they had their hats on.”

“Run along,” Sinclair said, “and let us know again directly anything happens.”

The boy returned almost at once.

“The clerks have left,” he said.  “The other four are going to lunch together.”

“Did the clerks take the plans with them?” I asked.

“Not all,” the boy answered.  “They left two portfolios behind.”

We finished our luncheon and returned to the bar.  It was more than two hours before anything else happened.  Then the boy entered a little hurriedly.

“Mr. Halliday has telephoned for his car, and is just leaving, sir,” he said.  “The two gentlemen from London have just ordered theirs, and I believe it looks as though Mr. Dickinson were going with them.  He has telephoned for a bag from his house.”

I shook hands with my friend the reporter, and we parted company.  I left the hotel quickly and returned to the King’s Arms, where we were staying.  I was lucky enough to find Jack just finishing lunch.