"Me? I'm Diktor."
"That's not what I mean and you know it. How did you learn English?"
Diktor did not answer. His face became expressionless.
"Go on," Wilson persisted. "You didn't learn it here; that's a cinch. You're from the twentieth century, aren't you?"
Diktor smiled sourly. "I wondered how long it would take you to figure that out."
Wilson nodded. "Maybe I'm not bright, but I'm not as stupid as you think I am. Come on. Give me the rest of the story."
Diktor shook his head. "It's immaterial. Besides, we're wasting time."
Wilson laughed. "You've tried to hurry me with that excuse once too often. How can we waste time when we have that?" He pointed to the controls and to the Gate beyond it. "Unless you lied to me, we can use any slice of time we want to, any time. No, I think I know why you tried to rush me. Either you want to get me out of the picture here, or there is something devilishly dangerous about the job you want me to do. And I know how to settle it―you're going with me!"
"You don't know what you're saying," Diktor answered slowly. "That's impossible. I've got to stay here and manage the controls."
"That's just what you aren't going to do. You could send me through and lose me. I prefer to keep you in sight."