Matheny hesitated. If only he hadn't taken that last shot! It made him want to say yes, immediately, without reservations. And therefore maybe he became overcautious.
They had instructed him on Mars to take chances if he must.
"I could tell you a thing or two that might give you a better idea," he said slowly. "But it would have to be under security."
"Okay by me. Room service can send us up an oath box right now."
"What? But—but—" Matheny hung onto himself and tried to believe that he had landed on Earth less than six hours ago.
In the end, he did call room service and the machine was trundled in. Doran swallowed the pill and donned the conditioner helmet without an instant's hesitation.
"I shall never reveal to any person unauthorized by yourself whatever you may tell me under security, now or at any other time," he recited. Then, cheerfully: "And that formula, Pete, happens to be the honest-to-zebra truth."
"I know." Matheny stared, embarrassed, at the carpet. "I'm sorry to—to—I mean of course I trust you, but—"
"Forget it. I take a hundred security oaths a year, in my line of work. Maybe I can help you. I like you, Pete, damn if I don't. And, sure, I might stand to get an agent's cut, if I arrange—Go ahead, boy, go ahead." Doran crossed his legs and leaned back.
"Oh, it's simple enough," said Matheny. "It's only that we already are operating con games."