He breathed rather heavily for a while, glaring at the floor, then looked at me again. "All right, listen. What if I were to tell you that I had found indications that you people were planning to attack my Project?"
I stared at him. "That's impossible!" I cried. "We aren't planning to attack anybody! We just want to be left in peace!"
"How do I know that?" he demanded.
"It's the truth! What would we want to attack anybody for?"
"Ah hah!" He sat forward, tensed, pointing the gun at me like a finger again. "Now, then," he said. "If you know it doesn't make any sense for this Project to attack any other project, then why in the world should you think they might see some advantage in attacking you?"
I shook my head, dumbfounded. "I can't answer a question like that," I said. "How do I know what they're thinking?"
"They're human beings, aren't they?" he cried. "Like you? Like me? Like all the other people in this mausoleum?"
"Now, wait a minute—"
"No!" he shouted. "You wait a minute! I want to tell you something. You think I'm a spy. That blundering Army of yours thinks I'm a spy. That fathead who turned me in thinks I'm a spy. But I'm not a spy, and I'm going to tell you what I am."
I waited, looking as attentive as possible.