"Quite casually, I informed the Potentate that certain items which had been included in the terms of the agreement had been deleted and others substituted. I admired him at that moment, Retief. He took it coolly—appearing completely indifferent—perfectly dissembling his very serious disappointment."
"I noticed him dancing with three girls wearing a bunch of grapes apiece. He's very agile for a man of his bulk."
"You mustn't discount the Potentate! Remember, beneath that mask of frivolity, he had absorbed a bitter blow."
"He had me fooled," Retief said.
"Don't feel badly; I confess at first I failed to sense his shrewdness." The Ambassador nodded and moved off along the corridor.
Retief turned and went into an office. Magnan looked up from his desk.
"Ah," he said. "Retief. I've been meaning to ask you. About the ... ah ... blasters. Are you—?"
Retief leaned on Magnan's desk, looked at him.
"I thought that was to be our little secret."
"Well, naturally I—" Magnan closed his mouth, swallowed. "How is it, Retief," he said sharply, "that you were aware of this blaster business, when the Ambassador himself wasn't?"