d casually, whereat Dorothy had
flushed with pleasure. Later she remembered that this was the first
word of praise she had heard him bestow on anything or anybody British.

At first a buttons had called from the Ritzton each morning and
afternoon for orders; but after the second day he had been superseded
by a waiter. One morning, after the order had been given, John Dene
enquired of Dorothy if she had ever tasted lobster a l'Americaine.

"Typists don't eat lobster a l'Americaine in England, Mr. Dene," she
had replied. "It's too expensive."

Whereupon he had told her to ring up the Ritzton and order lobster a
l'Americaine for lunch in place of the order already given. Ten
minutes later a ring came through from the hotel to the effect that
there must be some mistake, as there was no lunch on order for Mr. John
Dene. Dorothy protested that they had been supplied with lunch each
day for the last four days. The management deprecatingly suggested
that there had been a mistake, as after the first two days the order
had been cancelled. Dorothy repeated the information to John Dene, who
then took the receiver.

"If you didn't supply lunch yesterday, who the blazes did?" he
demanded, and a suave voice answered that it did not know who it was
that had that honour, but certainly it was not the Ritzton.

John Dene banged back the receiver impatiently. "We'll wait and see
what happens at twelve o'clock," he exclaimed, as he turned once more
to the papers on his table. "Somebody's feeding us," he muttered.

"Perhaps it's the ravens," murmured Dorothy to herself.

At twelve o'clock a waiter entered with a tray. At the sound of his
knock, John Dene revolved round in his chair.

"Here, where do you come from?" he demanded, glaring as if he suspected
the man of being of German parentage.

The man started violently and nearly dropped the tray.

"I obey orders," he stammered.

"Yes; but whose orders?"

For a moment the man hesitated.

"Do you come from the Ritzton?" demanded John Dene aggressively.

"I obey orders," repeated the man.

John Dene looked from the tray to Dorothy, and then to the man; but
said nothing, contenting himself with waving the man out with an
impatient motion of his hand.

After the meal he picked up his hat, lighted a cigar and told Dorothy
he would be back in a quarter of an hour. Five minutes later he burst
in upon Mr. Blair.

"Here, what the hell's all this about my meals?" John De