hallowness of the North Sea. She had carefully to
seek out the clear passages where the depth was sufficiently great to
prevent the discolouration of water by sand.

After the first few weeks the _Destroyer_ had been brought south, there
to catch U-boats soon after they submerged. That was where the Germans
suffered their greatest losses. Once the _Destroyer_ had penetrated
right into the Heligoland Bight, her "eyes" enabling her to avoid
submerged mines and entanglements.

Commander Ryles had himself witnessed the destruction of thirty-four
U-boats. Three times the _Destroyer_ had returned to her base to
re-victual and recharge her batteries, also to rest her crew. At the
termination of the third trip, it had been decided that the boat was
badly in need of a thorough overhaul, and in accordance with the
instructions received, he had prepared his report and brought it south
in order that he might deliver it in person to the First Lord.

When he had finished the lengthy document, Mr. Llewellyn John laid it
on the table beside him. For some minutes he sat thinking. Presently
he pressed the knob of the bell. As a secretary appeared he said,
"Ring through to Sir Roger Flynn, and tell him I shall be delighted if
he can breakfast with me to-morrow."

And Mr. Llewellyn John smiled.

CHAPTER XX

JOHN DENE'S PROPOSAL

Marjorie Rogers had entered the outer office at Waterloo Place
expecting to find Dorothy. Instead, John Dene sat half-turned in her
direction, with one arm over the back of the chair.

"She's gone home," he said, divining the cause of Marjorie's call.

The girl slipped into the room, softly closing the door behind her, and
walked a hesitating step or two in John Dene's direction, a picture of
shy maidenhood. Marjorie Rogers was an instinctive actress.

"Gone home!" she repeated as a conversational opening. "Is she ill?"
She gave him a look from beneath her lashes, a look she had found
equally deadly with subs and captains.

John Dene shook his head, but continued to gaze at her.

He was a very difficult man to talk to, Marjorie decided. She had
already come to the conclusion that she had been wrong in her suspicion
that he made love to Dorothy.

"You don't like us, do you, Mr. Dene?" She made a half-step in his
direction, dropping her eyes and drawing in her under lip in a way that
had once nearly caused a rear-admiral to strike his colours.

"Like who?" demanded John Dene, wonde