tions had formed the foundation of a small
fortune of twenty thousand dollars, with which he returned to Toronto.
From that point his career had been one continual progression of
successes. Everything he touched seemed to turn to gold, until "John's
luck" became a well-known phrase in financial circles.

Unlike most successful business-men, he devoted a large portion of his
time to his hobby, electrical engineering, and when the war broke out
he sought to turn this to practical and patriotic uses.

"And when may we expect Mr. Dene's new submarine over?" enquired
Malcolm Sage casually.

"Mr. Dene's new submarine!" Mr. Llewellyn John's hands dropped to his
sides as he gazed at Sage in blank amazement. "His new submarine," he
repeated.

"Yes, sir."

"What on earth do you know about it?" demanded Mr. Llewellyn John,
looking at Sage with a startled expression.

"John Dene has invented a submarine," proceeded the literal Sage, "with
some novel features, including a searchlight that has overcome the
opacity of water. The thing is lying on the St. Lawrence River just
below Quebec. Yesterday he called to see Sir Lyster Grayne, who
brought him here with Admiral Heyworth."

Mr. Llewellyn John gazed in bewilderment at Malcolm Sage, his eyes
shifted to Colonel Walton and then back again to Sage.

"But," he began, "you're watching us, not the enemy. Did you know of
this?" he turned to the chief of Department Z.

Colonel Walton shook his head. "I haven't seen Sage since you
telephoned yesterday until a few minutes ago," he said.

"Where--how----?" Mr. Llewellyn John paused.

"It's our business to know things, sir," was Sage's quiet reply.

"And yet you didn't report this to----" began Mr. Llewellyn John.

"It saves time telling you both at once," responded Sage, looking at
his chief with a smile.

"Suppose you tell us how you found out," suggested Mr. Llewellyn John a
little irritably.

"Does that matter, sir?" Sage looked up calmly from an earnest
examination of the nail of his left forefinger.

For some moments Mr. Llewellyn John gazed across at Malcolm Sage,
frowning heavily.

"Sage has his own methods," remarked Colonel Walton tactfully.

"Methods," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, his brow clearing, "it's a good
job he didn't live in the Middle Ages, or else he'd have been burned.
I'm not so sure that he ought not to be burned now." He turned on Sage
that smile that never failed in its magical effect.