 How does Meyerhoff feel about Zeckler?
Meyerhoff followed the huge, bear-like Altairian guard down the slippery flagstones of the corridor, sniffing the dead, musty air with distaste. He drew his carefully tailored Terran-styled jacket closer about his shoulders, shivering as his eyes avoided the black, yawning cell-holes they were passing. There was a startled gasp from within, and a skinny, gnarled little man suddenly appeared in the guard's light, like a grotesque, twisted ghost out of the blackness. Wide blue eyes regarded Meyerhoff from beneath uneven black eyebrows, and then the little man's face broke into a crafty grin. He executed a deep, awkward bow, motioning Meyerhoff into the dark cubicle. Meyerhoff scowled, and turned abruptly to the guard. Interplanetary ruling. Why, I've been in here for years—" "Look, Zeckler, the name is Meyerhoff, and I'm not your pal," Meyerhoff snapped. Zeckler's face was dark with a week's beard, and his bloodshot eyes belied the cocky grin on his lips. "So Harry Zeckler's in a jam again," he said. "These overgrown teddy-bears don't know what brotherhood means, nor humanity, either. Bread and water I've been getting, nothing more, and then only if they feel like bringing it down." I sent an appeal to the Terran Consulate the first day I was arrested. I've been sitting here rotting—" He broke off in mid-sentence and stared at Meyerhoff. I've got three million credits sitting in the Terran Consulate on Altair V, just waiting for me to walk in and pick them up. Meyerhoff nodded grimly. " If you live long enough to walk in and pick them up, that is." Meyerhoff sank down beside the man, his voice a tense whisper in the musty cell. "I mean that right now you are practically dead. You may not know it, but you are. No, nothing so simple for you. And the Terran Consulate isn't willing to sell all the trading possibilities here down the river just to get you out of a mess. Zeckler stood up shakily. Why, you should see what they tried to sell me ! "You've committed the most heinous crime these creatures can imagine, and they're going to get you for it if it's the last thing they do. I'm afraid, my friend, that your con-man days are over." Zeckler fished in the other man's pocket, extracted a cigarette, and lighted it with trembling fingers.
 Meyerhoff thinks that Zeckler is a fool.
 Meyerhoff thinks that Zeckler is a fool.  Meyerhoff thinks that Zeckler is a skilled con-man.  Meyerhoff thinks that Zeckler is misunderstood.  Meyerhoff thinks that Zeckler is an idiot.