ere known as "John's snags."

"But if you've made one----" began Mr. Llewellyn John.

"There's only going to be one," announced John Dene grimly.

"But----"

"You can but like a he-goat," announced John Dene, "still there'll be
only our _Destroyer_."

Sir Lyster smiled inwardly. His bruised dignity was recovering at the
sight of the surprised look on the face of the Prime Minister at John
Dene's comparison.

"Perhaps Mr. Dene will explain to us the difficulties," insinuated Sir
Lyster.

"Sure," said John Dene; then turning to Admiral Heyworth, "What would
happen if Germany got a submarine that could see and do fancy stunts?"
he demanded.

"It might embarrass----" began the Admiral.

"Shucks!" cried John Dene, "it would bust us up. What about the
American transports, food-ships, munitions and the rest of it. They'd
be attacked all along the three thousand miles route, and would go down
like neck-oil on a permit night. You get me?"

Suddenly Mr. Llewellyn John struck the table with his fist.

"You're right, Mr. Dene," he cried; "they might capture one and copy
it. You remember the Gothas," he added, turning to Sir Lyster.

"Sure," was John Dene's laconic reply.

"But how can we be sure they will not capture the _Destroyer_?"
enquired Sir Lyster.

"Because there'll be John Dene and a hundred-weight of high-explosive
on board," said John Dene drily as he chewed at the end of his cigar.

"Then you propose----" began Admiral Heyworth.

"I'll put you wise. This is my offer. I'm willing to send U-boats to
merry hell; but only on my own terms. I won't take a cent for my boat
or anything else. It's my funeral. The _Destroyer_ is now in Canada,
with German spies buzzing around like flies over a dead rat. If you
agree, I'll cable to my boys to bring the _Destroyer_, and it won't be
done without some fancy shooting, I take it! You," turning to Admiral
Heyworth, "will appoint an officer, two if you like, to come aboard and
count the bag. I'll supply the crew, and you'll give me a commander's
commission in the Navy. Now, is it a deal?"

"But----" began Sir Lyster.

"You make me tired," said John Dene wearily. "Is it or is it not a
deal?" he enquired of Mr. Llewellyn John.

With an effort the Prime Minister seemed to gather himself together.
He found the pace a little breathless, even for him.

"I think it might be arranged, Grayne," he said tactfully. "Mr. Dene
knows his own invention and we m