“I am not so sure,” said Katerin. “He may not want to discuss a secret with you—he will be suspicious of any person who talks with him about us, if he is trying to find us unbeknownst to others in the city. He might deny that he seeks us, and thus we should be deprived of his help.”
“True,” said Slipitsky. “The owl says little but thinks much, so what he knows is his own, which is wisdom. We need not fear the American—I wish there were more of them here. But this old fox of a Rimsky! It would be well to know what he is at.”
“No,” said Michael. “You cannot go running to a stranger and saying you know where we are hidden. And we cannot go to him and make ourselves known till we know for sure that he is seeking us. The matter will have to be arranged with more care.”
“Yes, Excellence, the wolf knows the forest and its ways,” said the Jew. “We must be wise about it, for there is no tax on wisdom. It would be well for me to bring Rimsky to the house and question him about what he knows—and what he said to Ilya.”
“You say you do not trust Rimsky,” said Katerin. “You say he is a liar—and may be a spy for the Ataman. Even if the American asked Rimsky about us, Rimsky might lie about it—and even if he tells the truth, whatever he says we will mistrust it. And we must be careful that we do not set his tongue wagging in the city. Till we have thought more about it, we must be most cautious.”
“Then shall I ask the American about it, mistress?” asked the Jew.
“No, thank you—I shall go and see the American myself.”
“See the American yourself!” gasped Michael in astonishment.
“Yes, I shall see him,” replied Katerin calmly. “That is the simplest and best way to learn what we want to know.”
“That is sensible,” agreed Slipitsky.