“Since you came to New York?”
“Yes; and before.”
There was a moment’s silence. The foppish dragoon had sat twiddling his thumbs; apparently he now fancied that the time had arrived for him to venture into the conversation once more; so he leaned toward George.
“Perhaps,” said he, “you’d not mind——” but here a sharp gesture from his friend cut him short. George sat facing a window; and, engaged in watching the play of the lightning and the dash of the rain upon the glass, he gave no sign of having noted the interruption.
“When a man of parts is employed in special service,” said Major Hyde, “it is naturally expected that he use his own discretion in many ways.”
Again George nodded. But this time he said nothing.
“But,” proceeded the other, and the slits between his eyes grew narrower and narrower, “there is, I think, a point at which a line should be drawn. He should not be privileged to exercise his discretion in all things. Limitations should be set.”
“I agree with you,” said the youth.
“In the securing of information,” said the major, “he must, of course, be at liberty to do as he sees fit. But after it is secured—it is there that the line should be drawn.”
“I don’t think I quite follow your meaning,” said George, vaguely.