with a deplorable disaster.

After that first meeting with him at the Admiralty, I frequently saw
Lord Fisher, and he kept me acquainted with his views on many points,
notably on what was involved in the threat of the U-boats after Sir I.
Hamilton had landed his troops in the Gallipoli Peninsula. On more
than one occasion he honoured me with a surprise visit in my office.
These interviews in my sanctum were of quite a dramatic,
Harrison-Ainsworth, Gunpowder-Treason, Man-in-the-Iron-Mask character.
He gave me no warning, scorning the normal procedure of induction by a
messenger. He would appear of a sudden peeping in at the door to see
if I was at home, would then thrust the door to and lock it on the
inside with a deft turn of the wrist, would screw up the lean-to
ventilator above the door in frantic haste, and would have darted over
and be sitting down beside me, talking earnestly and _ventre-a-terre_
of matters of grave moment, almost before I could rise to my feet and
conform to those deferential observances that are customary when a
junior officer has to deal with one of much higher standing. Some
subjects treated of on these occasions were of an extremely
confidential nature, and in view of the laxity of many eminent
officials and--if the truth be told--of military officers as a body,
the precautions taken by the First Sea Lord within my apartment were
perhaps not without justification.

War is too serious a business to warrant the proclamation of
prospective naval and military operations from the housetops.
Reasonable precautions must be taken. One thing one did learn during
those early months of the war, and that was that the fewer the
individuals are--no matter who they may be--who are made acquainted
with secrets the better. But this is not of such vital importance when
the secret concerns some matter of limited interest to the ordinary
person as it is when the secret happens to relate to what is
calculated to attract public attention.

Of course it was most reprehensible on the part of that expansive
youth, Geoffrey, to have acquainted Gladys--strictly between
themselves of course--that his company had been "dished out with a
brand-new, slap-up, experimental automatic rifle, that'll make Mr.
Boche sit up when we get across." Still it did no harm, because Gladys
doesn't care twopence about rifles of any kind, and had forgotten all
about it before she had swallowed the chocolate that was in her
mouth. But w