The dark-skinned man got up and came over to him. "Figured you for a mainlander. No sweat. Have you got a list?"
"I can make one."
"All right. Catalogues on the table behind you, if you want them." He offered Chandler a cigarette and sat against the edge of the counter, reading over Chandler's shoulder. "Ho," he said suddenly. "Koitska's square-wave generator again, right?" Chandler admitted it, and the man grinned. "Every couple months he sends somebody along. He doesn't really need the generator, you know. He just wants to see how much you know about building it, Mr.—?"
"Chandler."
"Glad to know you. I'm John Hsi. But don't go easy on the job just because it's a waste of time, Chandler; it could be pretty important to you."
Chandler absorbed the information silently and handed over his list. The man did not look at it. "Come back in about an hour," he said.
"I won't have any money in an hour, either."
"Oh, that's all right. I'll put it on Koitska's bill."
Chandler said frankly, "Look, I don't know what's going on. Suppose I came in and picked up a thousand dollars' worth of stuff, would you put that on the bill, too?"
"Certainly," said Hsi optimistically. "You thinking about stealing them? What would you do with them?"