"Ha! Mr. Dene, what's happened?" enquired Sir Bridgman, who was mounting the stairs as John Dene descended.
"I've been wondering how it is the British Empire has hung together as long as it has," was the response.
"What have we been doing now?" enquired Sir Bridgman.
"It's my belief," remarked John Dene, "that in this country you wouldn't engage a janitor without his great-grandmother's birth-certificate."
"I'm afraid we are rather a prejudiced nation," said Sir Bridgman genially.
"I don't care a cousin Mary what you are," responded John Dene, "so long as you don't come up against me. I'm out to win this war; it doesn't matter to me a red cent who's got the most grandmothers, and the sooner you tell the First Lord and that prize seal of his, the better we shall get on;" and John Dene abruptly continued on his way.
Sir Bridgman smiled as he slowly ascended the stairs.
"I suppose," he murmured, "we are in the process of being gingered-up."
The rest of the day John Dene devoted to sight-seeing and wandering about the streets, keenly interested in and critical of all he saw.
The next morning he was at the Admiralty a few minutes to nine, and was conducted by an attendant to the room that had been assigned to him. He gave a swift glance round and, apparently satisfied that it would suit his purpose, seated himself at the large pedestal table and took out his watch. As he did so, he noticed an envelope addressed to him lying on the table. Picking it up he tore off the end, extracted and read the note. Just as he had finished there came a tap at the door.