 Why do the Altairians let Zeckler go?
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. Interplanetary ruling. Why, I've been in here for years—" "Look, Zeckler, the name is Meyerhoff, and I'm not your pal," Meyerhoff snapped. "And you've been here for two weeks, three days, and approximately four hours. Zeckler's face was dark with a week's beard, and his bloodshot eyes belied the cocky grin on his lips. "These overgrown teddy-bears don't know what brotherhood means, nor humanity, either. I sent an appeal to the Terran Consulate the first day I was arrested. I mean, all they had to do was get a man over here, get the extradition papers signed, and provide transportation off the planet for me. 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. "What do you mean, if?" "I mean that right now you are practically dead. You may not know it, but you are. You walk into a newly opened planet with your smart little bag of tricks, walk in here with a shaky passport and no permit, with no knowledge of the natives outside of two paragraphs of inaccuracies in the Explorer's Guide, and even then you're not content to come in and sell something legitimate, something the natives might conceivably be able to use. No, nothing so simple for you. The Altairians are sore about it. 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. You're going to stand trial—and these natives are out to get you. Zeckler stood up shakily. "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.
 They let Zeckler go because he is the best liar.
 They let Zeckler go because he did not murder any Altairians.  They let Zeckler go because he is the best liar.  They let Zeckler go because Altairian law doesn't apply to Earthmen.  They let Zeckler go because he converted to the religion of the Altairian Goddess.