Each eyeball in turn emitted a dull ting. "These," said Doctor No, "see everything."
He took some notes and plaques out of his right hand pocket and the entire stack of notes out of his left and pushed them forward. There was no hint in his movements that this would be his last stake.
Bond had been told to report back to M at six. He did so. M's face was no longer pink and shining. The long day had knocked it about, stressed it, shrunken it. When Bond went in and took the chair across the desk, he noticed the conscious effort M made to clear his mind, cope with the new problem the day was to fling at him. M straightened himself in his chair and reached for his pipe. 'Well?'
All this production must be done in such a way that ‘sub-human’ work could be carried on solely by machines. Of course, so long as the standard of human capacity remained what it was, many world-citizens would be content with low-grade work; but no human being must ever have to spend his life on work below his capacity, and none must ever be tied to a kind of work for which his special aptitudes were unsuited. There must be a great advance in vocational psychology, and therefore much research.
"Stand by the phone. I'll call you back in a few minutes and tell you what to do with it. Where you staying?"
"Nix," said Leiter. "With my gun hand gone they could only offer me desk work. Very nice about it and paid me off handsomely when I said I wanted an open-air life. So Pinkerton's made me a good offer. You know, 'The Eye that Never Sleeps' people. So now I'm just a'door-basher'-private detective. Tut on some clothes and open up' routine. But it's good fun. They're a nice crowd to work with, and one day I'll be able to retire with a pension and a presentation gold watch that goes green in summer. As a matter of fact I'm in charge of their Race Gang squad-doping, crooked running, night-guards at the stables, all that sort of thing. Good job, and it takes you all over the country."
James Bond looked at him almost with curiosity. He said, and now his voice was not unkind, "You know what it is all about, Smythe." He paused and seemed to reflect. "Tell you what. I'll go out into the garden for ten minutes or so. Give you time to think things over. Give me a hail." He added seriously "It'll make things so much easier for you if you come out with the story in your own words."