"Mister, you sure spilled the beans," Marnay muttered, more to himself than to his friend. "I know I wouldn't want to be riding the Vera this trip. You've endangered the life of every man aboard! Why didn't you just send Prather an engraved invitation to come help himself to that cargo?"
"I would have, but didn't know where to reach him; besides that wouldn't have been very subtle, would it now?" The fellow's speech was no longer thick. He suddenly quit leaning on Marnay, straightened up and pulled him around a corner into a dim side street. He stood there grinning in Marnay's face.
Marnay's face was something to grin at. His mouth was hanging open as though on hinges.
"You can close it now," the other said, as he reached out and closed it for him.
"Say! You—you were just putting on an act back there!" Marnay finally managed to exclaim, inanely.
"A good one, I hope."
"No, I'm wrong." Marnay shook his head slowly. "Couldn't have been an act, I stood right there and watched you drink at least eight tsiths. My own record's four—and then they carried me out."
"You just thought you saw me drink 'em. Good trick, if you know how."
Marnay nodded. Then he looked at the man narrowly, grasped his arm and said, "Come on, let's get away from here. And listen! Whatever it is you've got up your sleeve, I want in on it! I'm George Marnay. Tri-Planet News Service."