 What doesn't the narrator believe Gorb to be?
My three staff men, Auchinleck, Stebbins and Ludlow, walked shieldwise in front of me. The aliens came in every shape and form, in all colors and textures—and all of them eager for a Corrigan contract. Stuff like this: Want to visit Earth—see the Galaxy's most glittering and exclusive world? A life of wonder and riches can be yours! It's the best of its kind, the only really decent place where Earthmen can get a gander at the other species of the universe. There was a lidless eye at the top of his head and five lidded ones, one above each arm. "Before we begin, I'll need certain information about—" "I am a being of Regulus II," came the grave, booming reply, even before I had picked up the blank. "My Regulan name no longer matters. "I'll be placed on exhibition at your Institute on Earth. The spherical creature clapped his hands in joy, three hands clapping on one side, two on the other. A Terraphile alien who goes to the extent of rechristening himself with a Terran monicker would work for nothing, or even pay us, just so long as we let him get to Earth. Our outfit has all the ursinoids it needs or is likely to need in the next few decades, and so I got rid of him in a couple of minutes. He was followed by a roly-poly blue-skinned humanoid from Donovan's Planet, four feet high and five hundred pounds heavy. I passed him along to Auchinleck to sign at anything short of top rate. It was the isolationism of the late 29th century that turned me into the successful proprietor of Corrigan's Institute, after some years as an impoverished carnival man in the Betelgeuse system. Before then, anyone could visit Earth. After the gate clanged down, a non-terrestrial could only get onto Sol III as a specimen in a scientific collection—in short, as an exhibit in a zoo. Every alien wants to see Earth once in his lifetime, and there's only one way he can do it. At the same time, we had turned away a dozen ursinoids, fifty of the reptilian natives of Ghryne, seven Sirian spiders, and no less than nineteen chlorine-breathing Procyonites wearing gas masks. "I happen to be a representative of the only Earthlike race that exists anywhere in the Galaxy but on Earth itself. I'm a telepath—not the kind that reads minds, just the kind that projects. The demand for beings from Wazzenazz XIII is pretty low these days.
 a non-terrestrial
 a non-terrestrial  an Earthling  a hero  a con-man