Excerpt
CHAPTER I THE COMING OF JOHN DENE
"Straight along, down the steps, bear to the left and you'll find the Admiralty on the opposite side of the way."
John Dene thanked the policeman, gave the cigar in his mouth a twist with his tongue, and walked along Lower Regent Street towards Waterloo Place.
At the bottom of the Duke of York's steps, he crossed the road, turned to the left and paused. Nowhere could he see an entrance sufficiently impressive to suggest the Admiralty. Just ahead was a dingy and unpretentious doorway with a policeman standing outside; but that he decided could not be the entrance to the Admiralty. As he gazed at it, a fair-haired girl came out of the doorway and walked towards him.
"Excuse me," said John Dene, lifting his hat, "but is that the Admiralty you've just come out of?"
There was an almost imperceptible stiffening in the girl's demeanour; but a glance at the homely figure of John Dene, with its ill-made clothes, reassured her.
"Yes, that is the Admiralty," she replied gravely in a voice that caused John Dene momentarily to forget the Admiralty and all its works.
"Much obliged," he said, again lifting his hat as she walked away; but instead of continuing on his way, John Dene stood watching the girl until she disappeared up the Duke of York's steps. Then once more twirling his cigar in his mouth and hunching his shoulders, he walked towards the doorway she had indicated.
"This the Admiralty?" he enquired of the policeman.
"Yes, sir," was the reply. "Did you want to see any one?"
John Dene looked at the man in surprise.
"Why should I be here if I didn't?" he asked. "I want to see the First Lord."
The man's manner underwent a change. "If you'll step inside, sir, you'll see an attendant."
John Dene stepped inside and repeated his request, this time to a frock-coated attendant.
"Have you an appointment?" enquired the man.
"No," responded John Dene indifferently.
The attendant hesitated. It was not customary for unknown callers to demand to see the First Lord without an appointment. After a momentary pause the man indicated a desk on which lay some printed slips.
"Will you please fill in your name, sir, and state your business."
"State my business," exclaimed John Dene, "not on your life."
"I'm afraid——" began the man.
"Never mind what you're afraid of," said John Dene, "just you take my name up to the First Lord. Here, I'll write it down." Seizing a pen he wrote his name, "John Dene of Toronto," and then underneath, "I've come three thousand miles to tell you something; perhaps it's worth three minutes of your time to listen."
"There, take that up and I'll wait," he said.
The attendant read the message, then beckoning to another frock-coated servitor, he handed him the paper, at the same time whispering some instructions. John Dene looked about him with interest. He was frankly disappointed. He had conceived the administrative buildings of the greatest navy in the world as something grand and impressive; yet here was the British Admiralty with an entrance that would compare unfavourably with a second-rate hotel in Toronto....