"And do they find any indications, ever?"
"I'm sure I don't know," I told him frostily. "That would be classified information."
"You bet it would," he said, with malicious glee. "All right, if that's what your spies are doing, and if I'm a spy, then it follows that I'm doing the same thing, right?"
"I don't follow you," I admitted.
"If I'm a spy," he said impatiently, "then I'm supposed to look for indications of an attack by you people on my Project."
I shrugged. "If that's your job," I said, "then that's your job."
He got suddenly red-faced, and jumped to his feet. "That's not my job, you blatant idiot!" he shouted. "I'm not a spy! If I were a spy, then that would be my job!"
The maniac had returned, in full force. "All right," I said hastily. "All right, whatever you say."
He glowered at me a moment longer, then shouted, "Bah!" and dropped back into the chair.