me, sir, and state your business."

"State my business," exclaimed John Dene, "not on your life."

"I'm afraid----" began the man.

"Never mind what you're afraid of," said John Dene, "just you take my
name up to the First Lord. Here, I'll write it down." Seizing a pen
he wrote his name, "John Dene of Toronto," and then underneath, "I've
come three thousand miles to tell you something; perhaps it's worth
three minutes of your time to listen."

"There, take that up and I'll wait," he said.

The attendant read the message, then beckoning to another frock-coated
servitor, he handed him the paper, at the same time whispering some
instructions. John Dene looked about him with interest. He was
frankly disappointed. He had conceived the administrative buildings of
the greatest navy in the world as something grand and impressive; yet
here was the British Admiralty with an entrance that would compare
unfavourably with a second-rate hotel in Toronto.

He turned suddenly and almost ran into a shifty-eyed little man in a
grey tweed suit, who had entered the Admiralty a moment after him. The
man apologised profusely as John Dene eyed him grimly. He had become
aware of the man's interest in his colloquy with the attendant, and of
the way in which he had endeavoured to catch sight of what was written
on the slip of paper.

John Dene proceeded to stride up and down with short, jerky steps,
twirling his unlit cigar round in his mouth.

"Excuse me, sir," said the attendant, approaching, "but smoking is not
permitted."

"That so?" remarked John Dene without interest, as he continued to roll
his cigar in his mouth.

"Your cigar, sir," continued the man.

"It's out." John Dene still continued to look about him.

The attendant retired nonplussed. The rule specifically referred to
smoking, not to carrying unlit cigars in the mouth.

At the end of five minutes, the attendant who had taken up John Dene's
name returned, and whispered to the doorkeeper.

"If you will follow the attendant, sir, he will take you to see Sir
Lyster's secretary, Mr. Blair."

"Mr.----" began John Dene, then breaking off he followed the man up the
stairs, and along a corridor, at the end of which another frock-coated
man appeared from a room with a small glass door. He in turn took
charge of the visitor, having received his whispered instructions from
the second attendant. John Dene was then shown into a large room with
a central table, and