He strode up and down the room, twirling his cigar, and flinging his short, sharp sentences at the two men, who, to his mind, stood as barriers to an Allied triumph.
"If you will sit down, Mr. Dene," said Sir Lyster suavely, "I'll explain."
John Dene hesitated for a moment, then humped himself into a chair, gazing moodily before him.
"We quite appreciate your—er—patriotism and public-spiritedness in——"
"Here, cut it out," broke in John Dene. "Do you want the Destroyer or don't you?"
Sir Lyster recoiled as if he had been struck. He had been First Lord too short a time for the gilt to be worn off his dignity. Seeing his Chief about to reply in a way that he suspected might end the interview, Admiral Heyworth interposed.
"May I suggest that under the circumstances we consult Mr. Llewellyn John?"
"That's bully," broke in John Dene without giving Sir Lyster a chance of replying. "They say he's got pep."
Bowing to the inevitable, Sir Lyster picked up the telephone-receiver.
"Get me through to the Prime Minister," he said.