“Lying, Fred?” Malone said.
“Certainly,” Fred said. He looked at the machinery with longing.
Malone took a breath. “How do you know?” he said.
Fred sighed. “It’s perfectly obvious,” he said in a patient tone. “Since the State Department translator has no pig-Latin circuit, it can’t possibly be talking pig-Latin. I will admit that such a circuit would be relatively easy to build, though it would have no utility as far as I can see. Except, of course, for a joke.” He paused. “Joke?” he said, in a slightly uneasy tone.
“Sure,” Malone said. “Joke.”
Mitchell looked relieved. “Very well, then,” he began. “Since—”
“Wait a minute,” Malone said. “The pig-Latin is a joke. That’s right. But I’m not talking about the pig-Latin.”
“You’re not?” Mitchell asked, surprised.
“No,” Malone said.
Mitchell frowned. “But you said—” he began.