The Colonel leant forward suddenly, resting his arms on the table, his glance still searching the thin, inscrutable face that puzzled and yet attracted him.
“It is men like you we want... Why did you leave the Service?” he asked abruptly.
His hearer stiffened visibly.
“Need we go into that?” he said.
“Not if you prefer to keep your own counsel.”
There was a barely perceptible pause. The younger man broke it.
“My objection to speak has probably led you to a fairly correct inference,” he said. “I was cashiered from the Army. But for which stroke of fortune I should not now be offering my services to you.”
He lifted his glass, put it to his lips, and draining the contents, set it down again empty.
The Colonel remained silent, regarding him with freshly awakened distrust. By his own showing the man was an adventurer. Despite his first prejudice in his favour he began to wonder whether after all it were wise to place confidence in him. He knew nothing of him. There was to his credit merely a few garnished tales of daring which, either from modesty or a knowledge of their exaggeration, he had himself practically disclaimed,—and to his discredit the ugly truth he had just heard from his own lips. He sat up suddenly. In the piercing eyes that met his own steadily he perceived the flicker of a smile.
“You haven’t committed yourself, sir. There is time to draw back.”