"How would I fake trying to hide the fact that I didn't have a Rider? I suppose, maybe, by slipping up and letting myself predict the future or something...."
"That's it!" Amery beamed. "You see? It will be easy!"
"Of course," Malloy said dully.
"I mean, that is to say, any time you don't do something and don't do it particularly well, the Jockeys will only admire your splendid act."
Malloy nodded thoughtfully. He turned and shook hands with the publisher. "Well, Amery, thanks for the money—and the advice. You always were the most devious master of deceit I ever knew."
"Thank you," Amery said with great sincerity.
"There's one more thing. This may sound silly, but they found me out pretty quick after it happened. What does a Rider look like? Where do they come from? Where do they fasten onto the brain or body of human beings?"
Amery leaned across the desk and backhanded Malloy in the mouth.
"Get out!" Amery said.
Malloy left the office, holding a handkerchief to his cut lip.