 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. Wide blue eyes regarded Meyerhoff from beneath uneven black eyebrows, and then the little man's face broke into a crafty grin. 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. "These overgrown teddy-bears don't know what brotherhood means, nor humanity, either. 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 sank down beside the man, his voice a tense whisper in the musty cell. No, nothing so simple for you. Zeckler stood up shakily. 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. In a way, he thought, it was a pity to see such a change in the rosy-cheeked, dapper, cocksure little man who had talked his way glibly in and out of more jams than Meyerhoff could count. Altair I had been recognized at once by the Trading Commission as a commercial prize of tremendous value, but early reports had warned of the danger of wildcat trading on the little, musty, jungle-like planet with its shaggy, three-eyed inhabitants—warned specifically against the confidence tactics so frequently used—but there was always somebody, Meyerhoff reflected sourly, who just didn't get the word. Zeckler puffed nervously on his cigarette, his narrow face a study in troubled concentration. They've built up the most confusing and impossible system of barter and trade imaginable, aimed at individual survival, with land as the value behind the credit. Lying is the time-honored tradition, with their entire legal system built around it." They have only the haziest idea what truth represents, and they've shrugged off the idea as impossible and useless." Encroachment on private property is legal grounds for murder on this planet, and twelve of them descended on the same chunk of land at the same time, all armed with title-deeds."
 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.