"I understand the agreement has been postponed."

The Ambassador chuckled. "The Potentate's a crafty one. Through ... ah
... a special study I have been conducting, I learned last night that he
had hoped to, shall I say, 'put one over' on the Corps."

"Great heavens," Retief said.

"Naturally, this placed me in a difficult position. It was my task to
quash this gambit, without giving any indication that I was aware of its
existence."

"A hairy position indeed," Retief said.

"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?"

"Easy," Retief said. "I made it up."

"You what!" Magnan looked wild. "But the agreement--it's been revised!
Ambassador Crodfoller has gone on record...."

"Too bad. Glad _I_ didn't tell him about it."

* * * * *

Magnan leaned back and closed his eyes.

"It was big of you to take all the ... blame," Retief said, "when the
Ambassador was talking about knighting people."

Magnan opened his eyes.

"What about that gambler, Zorn? Won't he be upset?"

"It's all right," Retief said, "I made another arrangement. The business
about making blasters out of common components wasn't completely
imaginary. You can actually do it, using parts from an old-fashioned
disposal unit."

"What good will that do him?" Magnan whispered, looking nervous. "We're
not shipping in any old-fash