Ogden invited us to his house last night. He took us to his library.
You have to see this library. Two stories of books. He has three of those ladder that run on wheels around the room. He has one large desk and an even larger table. The books look old and they feel old. Have you ever been into a room full of old books. There is a smell that comes off them. This room reeks of that.
"I was in Russia last week," he said. He put a small, but thick book on the table. "I bought this off my regular dealer. You might find it interesting."
He gave it to Steopa.
Steopa opened to the front plate. I have been learning Russian, but I could only make out a few words. Steopa closed the book. I could tell he was surprised and a little upset, even though the expression on his face did not change.
"How much have you read?" Steopa asked.
"The entire thing. Is that a relative?" Ogden asked.
Steopa did not say anything.
"It could be fiction," Ogden said.
"Can I have it?" Steopa asked.
After we left and returned home, Steopa showed me the book. "This might be about my great grandfather."
I was surprised, he never talked about him before. "Are you sure?"
Steopa shook his head. "No. I only heard stories from people outside of my family, my father did not say much. But the name of the writer is Matvey. That was my grandfather's name. He told me once that he had written down the last months of his father's life. This could be that document."
"Why didn't you tell Ogden this might be from your ancestor?"
"Because he read it. He already knows the truth."
Steopa wouldn't tell me any more. He locked the book in the safe he uses for the few valuables he has. He won't talk about it. I can tell he wants to, but he won't.
Should I pry?