ble enthusiasm," smiled Sir Lyster.

"What I like about him," remarked Sir Bridgman, "is that he never waits
to be contradicted."

"He certainly does seem to take everything for granted," said Sir
Lyster, with a note of complaint in his voice.

"The man who has all the cards generally does," said Sir Bridgman
drily. "Dene will always get there, because he has no axe to grind,
and the only thing he respects is brains. That is why he snubs us all
so unmercifully," he added with the laugh that always made Sir Lyster
wish he wouldn't.

"Now I want to consult you about a rather embarrassing question that's
on the paper for Friday," said Sir Lyster.

Unconscious that he was forming the subject of discussion with the
heads of the Admiralty, John Dene, on leaving the First Lord's room,
turned to the right and walked quickly in the direction of the main
staircase. As he reached a point where the corridor was intersected by
another running at right angles, the sudden opening of a door on his
left caused him to turn his head quickly. A moment later there was a
feminine cry and a sound of broken crockery, and John Dene found
himself gazing down at a broken teapot.

"Oh!"

He looked up from the steaming ruin of newly brewed tea into the violet
eyes of the girl who had directed him to the Admiralty. He noticed the
purity of her skin, the redness of her lips and the rebelliousness of
her corn-coloured hair, which seeming to refuse all constraint clung
about her head in little wanton tendrils.

"That's my fault," said John Dene, removing his hat. "I'm sorry."

"Yes; but our tea," said the girl in genuine consternation; "we're
rationed, you know."

"Rationed?" said John Dene.

"Yes; we only get two ounces a week each," she said with a comical look
of despair.

"Gee!" cried John Dene, then he asked suddenly: "What are you?"

The girl looked at him in surprise, a little stiffly.

"Can you type? Never mind about the tea."

"But I do mind about the tea." She found John Dene's manner disarming.

"I take it you're a stenographer. Now tell me your name. I'll see
about the tea." He had whipped out a note-book and pencil. "Hurry,
I've got a cable to send."

Seeing that she was reluctant to give her name, he continued: "Never
mind about your name. Be in the First Lord's room to-morrow at eleven
o'clock; I'll see you there;" and with that he turned quickly, resumed
his hat and retraced his steps.

Without knock