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

<passage>:
One can't be too cautious about the people one meets in Tangier. They're all weirdies of one kind or another. town's hub. It marks the end of Boulevard Pasteur, the main drag of the westernized part of Rue de la Liberté, which leads down to the Grand Socco and the medina. In a three-minute walk from the Place de France you can go from an ultra-modern, California-like resort to the King-size sidewalk cafes occupy three of the strategic corners on the Place de France. at current exchange. You can sit there, after the paper's read, sip your expresso and watch the people go by. Tangier is possibly the most Man, and occasionally a Senegalese from further south. In the world's poorest and some of the richest. The poorest will try to sell you anything from a shoeshine to their not very lily-white bodies, and the richest will avoid your eyes, afraid you might try to sell them something. In spite of recent changes, the town still has its unique qualities. As a result of them the permanent population includes smugglers and black-marketeers, fugitives from justice and international con men, espionage and counter-espionage agents, homosexuals, nymphomaniacs, alcoholics, drug addicts, displaced limits the activities of few of these. and said, "Hello, Paul. Anything new cooking?" He sank into the chair opposite me and looked around for the waiter. The tables were all crowded and since mine was a face he recognized, he assumed he was welcome to intrude. It was more or less standard procedure at the Cafe de Paris. It wasn't a place to go if you wanted to be alone. Paul said, "How are you, Rupert? Haven't seen you for donkey's years." The waiter came along and Paul ordered a glass of beer. Paul was an easy-going, sallow-faced little man. I vaguely remembered "What's in the newspaper?" he said, disinterestedly. He grunted. "Oh," I said, "the intellectual "They have, eh? How big?" "Several times bigger than Paul said, "What ever happened saucers?" "What flying saucers?" A French girl went by with a poodle so finely clipped as to look as though it'd been shaven. The girl was in the latest from Paris. Every pore in place. We both looked after her. "You know, what everybody was seeing a few years ago. It's too bad one of these bloody manned Maybe they would've seen one." "That's an idea," I said. We didn't say anything else for a while and I began to wonder if I could go back to my paper without rubbing him the wrong way. I didn't know Paul very well, but, for that matter, it's comparatively seldom you ever get to know anybody very well in Tangier. Largely, cards are Just to say something, I said, "Where do you think they came from?" And when he looked Venus, or someplace." "Ummmm," I said. "Too bad landed on the Yale football field and said Take me to your cheerleader , or something." Paul yawned and said, "That was always the trouble with those crackpot blokes' explanations of space, then why not show themselves?" I ate one of the potato chips. It'd been cooked in rancid olive I said, "Oh, there are various answers to that one. We could probably sit around here and think of two or three that made sense." Paul was mildly interested. "Like what?" "Well, hell, suppose for instance for membership until you, well, say until you've developed space the club. Meanwhile, they send secret missions down from time to time to keep an eye on your progress." Paul grinned at me. "I see you read the same poxy stuff I do." A Moorish girl went by dressed in a neatly tailored gray jellaba, European style high-heeled veil so transparent that you could see she wore lipstick. Very provocative, dark eyes can be over a veil. We both looked after her. I said, "Or, here's another one. Suppose you have a very "Not Mars. No air, and too bloody dry to support life." "Don't interrupt, please," I said with mock severity. "This is a very old civilization and as a few million years, if Earth lost its water and air?" "I suppose so," he said. "Anyway, what about them?" "Well, they observe how man is going through a scientific population boom. A boom, period. Any day now he's going to have practical space ships. Meanwhile, not against using it, if he could get away with it." Paul said, "I got it. So they're scared and are keeping an eye on us. That's an old one. I've read that a dozen times, dished up different." I shifted my shoulders. "Well, it's one possibility." "I got a better one. How's this. There's this alien life form that's way ahead of us. Their civilization is so old that they don't have any records of when it began and how it was in the giving us a bad time here on Earth. They're all like scholars, get it? And some of them are it? Things developing so fast we don't know where we're going or how we're going to get there." I finished my beer and clapped my hands for Mouley. "How do you mean, where we're going in the world today. They're trying to industrialize, modernize, catch up with the advanced countries. Look at Egypt, and Israel, and India and China, and Yugoslavia rest. Trying to drag themselves up to the level of the advanced unemployed, threat of war, spending all their money on armaments it. Why, a man from Mars would be fascinated, like." Mouley came shuffling up in his babouche slippers and we both ordered another schooner of beer. Paul said seriously, "You know, there's only one big snag observers, or scholars, or spies or whatever they are? Sooner or later we'd nab one of them. the F.B.I., or Russia's secret in police, counter-espionage outfits and security agents that an alien would slip up in time, no matter how much he'd been trained. Sooner or later, he'd slip up, and they'd nab him." I shook my head. "Not necessarily. The first time I ever considered this possibility, it seemed to me that such an alien would base himself in London or New York. Somewhere where he could "Why Tangier?" "It's the one town in the world where anything goes. Nobody gives a damn about you or your affairs. For instance, I've known you a year or more now, and I haven't the slightest idea of how you make your living." "That's right," Paul admitted. "In this town you seldom even ask a man where's he's from. He can be British, a White Russian, a Basque or a Sikh and nobody could care less. Where are you from, Rupert?" "No, you're not," he grinned. I was taken aback. "What do you mean?" "I felt your mind probe back a few minutes ago when I was talking about Scotland Yard or the F.B.I. possibly flushing an alien. Telepathy is a sense not trained by the humanoids. If from, Rupert?" We had a laugh and ordered another beer. "What're you doing here on Earth?" I asked him. quite a delicacy. How about you?" "Scouting the place for thrill tourists. My job is to go around to these backward cultures and help stir up inter-tribal, or international, conflicts—all according to how advanced they are. Then our tourists come in—well shielded, of course—and get their kicks watching it." Paul frowned. "That sort of practice could spoil an awful lot of good meat." THE END

<question>:
How does Rupert accidentally reveal his identity to Paul?

<options>:
A He attempts to examine Paul's mind to determine if he is an alien
B He reveals information that only Scotland Yard would know
C He mentions technology that is only present in Paul's place of origin
D He lingers for too long at an attractive female walking by

<answer>:

A