He got suddenly red-faced, and jumped to his feet. "That's _not_ my
job, you blatant idiot!" he shouted. "I'm not a spy! If I _were_ a spy,
_then_ that would be my job!"
* * * * *
The maniac had returned, in full force. "All right," I said hastily.
"All right, whatever you say."
He glowered at me a moment longer, then shouted, "Bah!" and dropped
back into the chair.
He breathed rather heavily for a while, glaring at the floor, then
looked at me again. "All right, listen. What if I were to tell you that
I _had_ found indications that you people were planning to attack my
Project?"
I stared at him. "That's impossible!" I cried. "We aren't planning to
attack anybody! We just want to be left in peace!"
"How do I know that?" he demanded.
"It's the truth! What would we want to attack anybody for?"
"Ah hah!" He sat forward, tensed, pointing the gun at me like a finger
again. "Now, then," he said. "If you know it doesn't make any sense for
this Project to attack any other project, then why in the world should
you think _they_ might see some advantage in attacking _you_?"
I shook my head, dumbfounded. "I can't answer a question like that," I
said. "How do I know what they're thinking?"
"They're human beings, aren't they?" he cried. "Like you? Like me? Like
all the other people in this mausoleum?"
"Now, wait a minute--"
"No!" he shouted. "You wait a minute! I want to tell you something. You
think I'm a spy. That blundering Army of yours thinks I'm a spy. That
fathead who turned me in thinks I'm a spy. But I'm _not_ a spy, and I'm
going to tell you what I am."