Whereupon he had told her to ring up the Ritzton and order lobster a l'Americaine for lunch in place of the order already given. Ten minutes later a ring came through from the hotel to the effect that there must be some mistake, as there was no lunch on order for Mr. John Dene. Dorothy protested that they had been supplied with lunch each day for the last four days. The management deprecatingly suggested that there had been a mistake, as after the first two days the order had been cancelled. Dorothy repeated the information to John Dene, who then took the receiver. "If you didn't supply lunch yesterday, who the blazes did?" he demanded, and a suave voice answered that it did not know who it was that had that honour, but certainly it was not the Ritzton. John Dene banged back the receiver impatiently. "We'll wait and see what happens at twelve o'clock," he exclaimed, as he turned once more to the papers on his table. "Somebody's feeding us," he muttered. "Perhaps it's the ravens," murmured Dorothy to herself. At twelve o'clock a waiter entered with a tray. At the sound of his knock, John Dene revolved round in his chair. "Here, where do you come from?" he demanded, glaring as if he suspected the man of being of German parentage. The man started violently and nearly dropped the tray. "I obey orders," he stammered. "Yes; but whose orders?" For a moment the man hesitated. "Do you come from the Ritzton?" demanded John Dene aggressively. "I obey orders," repeated the man. John Dene looked from the tray to Dorothy, and then to the man; but said nothing, contenting himself with waving the man out with an impatient motion of his hand. After the meal he picked up his hat, lighted a cigar and told Dorothy he would be back in a quarter of an hour. Five minutes later he burst in upon Mr. Blair. "Here, what the hell's all this about my meals?" John Dene seemed to take a delight in descending upon Sir Lyster's secretary. Mr. Blair turned towards him with that expression he seemed to keep expressly for John Dene. "Your meals," he stammered. "Yes," replied John Dene, blowing volumes of acrid smoke towards the sensitive nostrils of Mr. Blair. "Why was my order to the Ritzton cancelled? That sort of thing rattles me." "I'm afraid that I know nothing of this," said Mr. Blair, "but I will enquire." "Well, I'd like somebody to put me wise as to why he interferes with my affairs," and John Dene stamped out of the room and back to Waterloo Place. II "Shucks!" cried John Dene irritably. "You make me tired." "I doubt if you appreciate the seriousness of the situation," was Colonel Walton's quiet retort. "I appreciate the seriousness of a situation that turns my 'phone into a sort of elevator-bell, and makes my office like a free-drink saloon at an election." Colonel Walton smiled indulgently, Dorothy kept her eyes upon her note-book.