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

<passage>:
"The Stortulian will be duly punished," replied the leader of the "Hold it," the Wazzenazzian said crisply. "The Consulate can't help I eyed Gorb uncertainly. The Terran Consulate people probably wouldn't The office buzzer sounded. Auchinleck said unctuously, "The first "Send him, her or it in." The door opened and a timid-looking life-form advanced toward me on one above each arm. Plus a big, gaping, toothless mouth. His voice was a surprisingly resounding basso. "You are Mr. Corrigan?" "That's right." I reached for a data blank. "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. "I need no special care and I am not a fugitive from the law of any world." "Your name?" "Lawrence R. Fitzgerald." I throttled my exclamation of surprise, concealing it behind a quick "Of course, that's not the name you were born with." The being closed his eyes and toddled around in a 360-degree rotation, remaining in place. On his world, that gesture is the equivalent of an apologetic smile. "My Regulan name no longer matters. I am now and I buzzed for Ludlow and gave him the fast signal that meant we were didn't mean we had to be extravagant in hiring him. 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 a being, but I don't believe in throwing money away, either. The next applicant was a beefy ursinoid from Aldebaran IX. Our outfit dozen." He looked at me queerly and nodded. A being entered. I took a long close look at the life-form when it came in, and after that I took another one. I wondered what kind of stunt was being pulled. So far as I could tell, the being was quite plainly nothing but an Earthman. He sat down facing me without being asked and crossed his legs. He was tall and extremely thin, with pale blue eyes and dirty-blond hair, and though he was clean and reasonably well dressed, he had a shabby look about him. He said, in level Terran accents, "I'm looking for a job with your outfit, Corrigan." "There's been a mistake. We're interested in non-terrestrials only." "I'm a non-terrestrial. My name is Ildwar Gorb, of the planet Wazzenazz XIII." I don't mind conning the public from time to time, but I draw the line at getting bilked myself. "Look, friend, I'm busy, and I'm not known Earthborn as I am." "I've never been within a dozen parsecs of Earth," he said smoothly. "I happen to be a representative of the only Earthlike race that exists "A scientific institute. I stand corrected." There was something glib and appealing about this preposterous phony. I guess I recognized a kindred spirit or I would have tossed him out on his ear without another word. Instead I played along. "If you're from such a distant place, how come you speak English so well?" "I'm not speaking. I'm a telepath—not the kind that reads minds, just the kind that projects. I communicate in symbols that you translate back to colloquial speech." "Very clever, Mr. Gorb." I grinned at him and shook my head. "You spin a good yarn—but for my money, you're really Sam Jones or Phil Smith He pointed a finger squarely at me and said, "You're making a big mistake. I'm just what your outfit needs. A representative of a hitherto utterly unknown race identical to humanity in every respect! Look here, examine my teeth. Absolutely like human teeth! And—" He glowered at me reproachfully for a moment, stood up and sauntered to another chance." He slammed the door and I let my grim expression relax into a smile. This was the best con switch yet—an Earthman posing as an alien to get a job! But I wasn't buying it, even if I could appreciate his cleverness The first harbinger of woe turned up after lunch in the person of a Hardly had the 'dillo scuttled dejectedly out of my office when the body. Two fierce eyes glimmered out through the otherwise dense blanket of fur. He was wearing the kilt, girdle and ceremonial blaster of his warlike race. I said, "You'll have to understand, Freeman Heraal, that it's not our applicant. But before my finger touched the button, the door popped open and a small being came scooting in, followed by an angry Stebbins. "Come here, you!" "I'm sorry, Mr. Corrigan. I lost sight of this one for a moment, and he came running in—" "Please, please," squeaked the little alien pitifully. "I must see you, "All right," I said tiredly. "As long as he's in here already, I might as well see him. Be more careful next time, Stebbins." Stebbins nodded dolefully and backed out. The alien was a pathetic sight: a Stortulian, a squirrely-looking carrying our full complement of Stortulians. We have both a male and a female now and—" "This is known to me. The female—is her name perchance Tiress?" I glanced down at the inventory chart until I found the Stortulian The little being immediately emitted a soul-shaking gasp. "It is she! It is she!" "Funny," I said. "When we signed her three years ago, she said she was single. It's right here on the chart." "Yes, yes!" wailed the Stortulian. "Find some other member of my race, "Of course not." I took advantage of his pathetic upset to steam right "I thought the truth would move you." "It did. But in effect you're now asking me to conspire in a fraudulent criminal act. Friend, I can't do it. My reputation means too much to me," I said piously. The Stortulian seemed to shrivel. His eyelids closed half-way to mask some conscience, and I had the uneasy feeling I had just been talking to a being who was about to Nine of the fifty were okay. The rest were unacceptable for one reason outraged pride and the Stortulian's flighty wife when the door opened "How did you get in here?" I demanded. "Get out before I have you thrown out." "—you'll have me thrown out. Okay, okay. Just give me half a second. "You see? He's incompetent. Suppose you fire him, take me on instead. Before I could react to the big life-form's hara-kiri, the office door at the figure on the floor, then came to rest on me. "You are J. F. Corrigan?" the leader asked. "Y-yes." remembered that any minute that scrawny little Stortulian was likely to I was spared further such morbid thoughts by yet another unannounced arrival. The small figure of the Stortulian trudged through the open doorway policemen and my three assistants forgot the dead Kallerian for a saw the three Ghrynian policemen sitting on the raving Stortulian. The man who called himself Ildwar Gorb was getting to his feet and dusting himself off. Stortulian wasn't here to commit suicide, you see. He was out to get you." "Evidently you don't know as much as you think you do about Stortulian killed himself , and the pint-sized Stortulian who looked so meek and pathetic damn near blew my head off." I shuddered. "Thanks for the

<question>:
What was shocking about the Stortulian's return to the interview office later in the day?

<options>:
A His depression was building to a suicide attempt.
B He had morphed into a larger being.
C He was motivated to commit murder.
D He was disguising himself as another being.

<answer>:

C