"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. "Come," he called out. The door opened and Dorothy West entered, looking very pretty and business-like with a note-book and pencil in her hand. "Good morning," she said. "Mornin', Miss West," he replied, gazing at her apparently without seeing her. He was obviously thinking of something else. She seated herself beside his table and looked up, awaiting his signal to begin the day's work. "There are some things in this country that get my goat," he remarked. John Dene threw down the letter he was reading, twirled the cigar between his lips and snorted his impatience, as he jumped from his chair and proceeded to stride up and down the room. "There are quite a lot that get mine," she remarked demurely, as she glanced up from her note-book. "A lot that get yours," he repeated, coming to a standstill and looking down at her. "Things that get my goat." There was the slightest possible pause between the "my" and the "goat." Then John Dene smiled. In Toronto it was said that when John Dene smiled securities could always be trusted to mount at least a point. "Well, listen to this." He picked up the letter again and read: "DEAR MR. DENE,-- "Sir Lyster desires me to write and express it as his most urgent wish that you will pay special regard to your personal safety. He fears that you may be inclined to treat the matter too lightly, hence this letter. "Yours truly, "REGINALD BLAIR."