Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Casey Ritter, the guy who never turned can sure happen. A man can get himself backed into a corner in this also, I had promised not to rat on him before taking the job. Well, Casey Ritter may be a lot of things we won't mention, but he doesn't rat on his clients. So there I was, closeted with the ten members of the S.S. Customs Court, getting set to hear the gavel fall and the head man intone the sentence that would take me out of hear the words in my mind. But they didn't match what the judge was I snorted. "Aw, hell, judge, that's just one of those screwy fairy caper: Had it been just a trap to lead me straight to this? I hadn't At the thought my larynx froze up tight. This was worse than I'd unless it was a straight suicide mission! The bleat of anguish that accompanied my first view of those beauties had taken my voice again. "How big?" I whispered. the great Casey Ritter, daredevil of the Solar System!" he sneered. "Never loses a bet, never turns down a dare!" won't reach in and nip off an arm or leg while he's got his back turned. How stupid could they get? turned me into an honest trader. Me, Casey Ritter, slickest slicker in safe and secure in the grip of the good old Iron College, I relaxed. At this strategic point, the enemy planted a stoolie on me. Not in my cell block. They were too smart for that. But we met at recreation, and and after awhile I braced him. I was right. I'd met the shrimp before when I was wound up in an asteroid real estate racket. Pard Hoskins was his alias, and he had the tag of being a real slick operator. We swapped yarns for about a week when we met, and then I asked him what's his rap this trip. He shrugged, but his little black-currant eyes began to sparkle with His eyes watered at the memory, yearning like a hound-dog's over a of contemptuously but those Bleachies are a rough lot when they're mad, and if Pard had really got near those emeralds, he should be nothing but a heap of cleaned bones by now. Either he was the world's champion liar or its bravest son, and either way I took my hat off to "How'd you make the getaway?" I asked, taking him at his word. He looked loftily past me. "Sorry. Gotta keep that a secret. Likewise somehow knew that he'd really lifted those emeralds. But how? It was impossible. I'd investigated once myself. That night I turned on my hard prison cot until my bones were so much jelly, trying to figure that steal. The next morning I got up burning with this fever for information, only to find that Pard had got himself put in solitary for mugging a guard, and that really put the heat on me. I chewed my fingernails down to the quick by the time he got out a week later. By that time he really had me hooked. I'd of sworn he was leveling with me. But he wouldn't tell me how he'd worked the steal. Instead, He looked at me as if I hadn't yet got out from under the rock where he was sure I'd been born. "Don't you know nothin', butterhead?" "You mean those scorpions have really got brains?" nails, I bit myself. So I faced it. Casey Ritter lost his nerve, and along with it, the chance of a lifetime. A better man than me had alive. That thought ate me to the quick, and I began to wonder if it was too late, after all. I could hardly wait for morning to come, so that I could pry more information out of Pard Hoskins. But I didn't see Pard for a few days. And then, a week later, a group of lifers made a break that didn't jell, and the whole bunch was locked up in the blockhouse, the special building reserved for escapees. Pard Hoskins was in the bunch. He'd never get out of there, and he knew it. So did I. For three more days I worked down my knuckles, my nails being gone, while I sat around all hunched up, wondering feverishly if Pard would make a deal about those emeralds. Then I broke down and sent out a letter to the S.S.C. friendly as a bottle of strychnine. But for a lad headed for Jupiter that was good training, so I sneered right back at him, explained the caper, and we both paid a visit to Pard. In two days the deal was made and the caper set up. There were a few bits of info that Pard had to shell out, like where the emeralds were, and how to communicate with those scorpions, and how he'd made Akroida mad. hadn't helped me, they'd of done it, too. And Akroida claimed I done it a-purpose to upset her." He ruminated a few minutes. "Tell you what, chump. Make them shell out remember, don't use but a drop. It's real powerful." tiny bottle like that boy Aladdin clutching his little old lamp. "These—" he had proclaimed with a disdainful flourish, like a placer He paused, his long nose twitching cynically—"IF you succeed, your That twitch of the nose riled me no little. "I ain't failed yet!" I lock, and popped out, brave as could be. Face to face with that thing, though, I nearly lost my grip on the handle. In fact, I'd have fainted expression discernible in the thing's eyes, so I took heart and decided I tapped back very politely that he must be mistaking me for someone removable eyes, for reasons best known to himself. I still wake up A shudder of ecstasy stiffened him. His head and eyes rolled with it, and he wafted closer still. Right there I began to harbor a premonition Taking advantage of his condition, I boldly tapped out, "How's about I tried to back off from him a bit, but the ship stopped me. "I'm Casey nuts. Then I got a glimmer through my paralyzed gray matter. "Who named you that?" He simpered. "My dear friend, Pard Hoskins." I breathed again. How simple could I get? He'd already mistaken me for Pard, hadn't he? Then I remembered something else. "How come you aren't mad at him? Don't you hate yellow, too?" He hung his silly head. "I fear I am colorblind," he confessed sadly. Well, I'd met the first of the brood and was still alive. Not only alive but loved and cherished, thanks to Pard's inventiveness and to a kindly fate which had sent Pard's old pal my way. A great man, Pard him. To my surprise a vapor shot out of a box that I had taken for a persecutor was right, too. That anti-grav secret was worth more than what about Casey Ritter, who hadn't cultivated even a feather? over, ducked his head humbly half-a-dozen times, and pushed the box could hear her question reverberate away over where I was. That conversation was telegraphed to me blow by blow by the actions of those hopper-scorps. I didn't need their particular brand of Morse Code at all. name?" she demanded. And when he told her, with a bad stutter in direction. "Casey Ritter? Never heard of him. Where's he from?" Well, after all, she wasn't blind. He had to confess. "I—uh—the ducked his head and fearfully waited. higher. Her mean Roman nose twitched. "An earthman? Like Pard Hoskins?" Attaboy shrank smaller and smaller. He could only nod dumbly.

<question>:
Which true statement may have changed Casey's mind if he'd have known?

<options>:
A Attaboy was Pard's colorblind friend
B The perfume doesn't work
C Akroida really loves jewels
D Pard was working for the S.S.C.

<answer>:

D