The Schirmer Inheritance (23 page)

It had been Arthur who had provided the opening.

“Didn’t I tell you it’d be worth your while to come, Mr. Carey?” he said triumphantly when the Sergeant had finished.

“You did indeed, Arthur, and I’m very grateful. And of
course I understand now the reason for all the secrecy.” He looked at the Sergeant. “I had no idea that fighting was still going on in this area.”

“No?” The Sergeant drained his glass and set it down with a bang. “It is the censorship,” he said. “The government hide the truth from the world.”

Arthur nodded gravely. “Proper Fascist-imperialist lackeys they are,” he said.

“But we do not talk politics, eh?” The Sergeant smiled as he filled Miss Kolin’s glass. “It is not interesting for the beautiful lady,”

She said something coldly in German and his smile faded. For a moment he seemed to be reconsidering Miss Kolin; then he turned to George cheerfully.

“Let us all fill our glasses and come to business,” he said.

“Yes, let’s do that,” said George. He had given them the reassuring impression that he was content with his picture of them as simple revolutionaries still fighting for a lost cause. That was enough. “I expect you’d like to know a bit more about the whole affair, wouldn’t you, Sergeant?” he added.

“That is what I wish.”

George told him the history of the case from the beginning.

For a time the Sergeant listened politely, interrupting only to ask for the explanation of a legal word or phrase he did not understand. When Miss Kolin translated it into German he acknowledged the service each time with a nod. He seemed almost indifferent, as if he were listening to something that was really no concern of his. It was when George came to the part played in the case by the account of the first Sergeant Schirmer’s exploits at Eylau that his attitude changed. Suddenly he leaned forward across the table and began interrupting with abrupt, sharp-voiced questions.

“You say Franz Schirmer. He had the same name and rank as me, this old man?”

“Yes. And he was roughly the same age as you were when you dropped into Crete.”

“So! Go on, please.”

George went on, but not for long.

“Where was he wounded?”

“In the arm.”

“As I was at Eben-Emael.”

“No, he had a sabre cut.”

“It does not matter. It is the same. Go on, please.”

George went on again. The Sergeant’s eyes were fixed on him intently. He interrupted again.

“Food? What food had he?”

“Some frozen potatoes he’d taken from a barn.” George smiled. “You know, Sergeant, I’ve got the complete account of all this written out by Franz Schirmer’s second son, Hans. That’s the one who emigrated to America. He wrote it out for his children, to show them what a fine man their grandfather had been.”

“You have this here?”

“I have a copy at the hotel in Florina.”

“I may see it?” He was eager now.

“Sure. You can have it. You’ll probably have the original eventually. I guess all the family papers are rightfully yours.”

“Ah yes. The family papers.” He nodded thoughtfully.

“But what Hans wrote isn’t the whole story by any means. There were some things Franz Schirmer didn’t tell his children.”

“So? What things?”

George went on to tell him then about the meeting with Maria, about Mr. Moreton’s investigation, and about his discovery of the truth in the army records at Potsdam.

The Sergeant listened without interruption now; and when George finished he remained silent for a moment or two
staring down at the table in front of him. At last he looked up and there was a quiet smile of satisfaction on his face.

“That was a man,” he said to Arthur.

“One of the boys, all right,” Arthur agreed, nodding; “same name and rank, too. Let’s see—Dragoons were …”

But the Sergeant had turned to George again. “And this Maria. She was my great
Urgrossmutter
?”

“That’s right. Her first son, Karl, was your
Urgrossvater
. But you see the strong case we have through knowing about the change of name. Amelia Schneider’s first cousin was your grandfather, Friedrich, and he survived her. You remember him?”

The Sergeant nodded vaguely. “Yes. I remember.”

“Legally, he inherited the money. You will inherit from him through your father. Of course your claim may have to be advanced through the German or maybe the Swiss courts. You may have to apply for Swiss papers first. I don’t know, It depends on the attitude of the Pennsylvania court. Certainly we can expect the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to fight. What the attitude of the Alien Property Custodian will be we don’t yet know. It’ll be tough, but I guess you won’t mind that, eh?”

“No.” But he did not appear either to understand or to be paying much attention to what George was saying. “I have never been to Ansbach,” he said slowly.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time later on, I guess. Now, about the business side of it all. The law firm I represent are the attorneys for the administrator of the estate, so we couldn’t act for you ourselves. You’d have to retain someone else. I don’t know whether or not you can afford to put up money for the costs of fighting the case. They’d be pretty heavy. If you. didn’t want to do that we could recommend a good firm. They would act for you on a contingency basis. Explain it all, Miss Kolin, will you please?”

She explained. He listened absently and then nodded.

“You understand?” George asked.

“Yes. I understand. You do all.”

“Very well. Now, how soon can you leave for America?”

George saw Arthur look at him sharply. Now the trouble was going to start.

The Sergeant frowned. “America?”

“Yes. We could travel together if you like.”

“But I do not wish to go to America.”

“Well, Sergeant, if you’re going to claim your estate, I’m afraid you’ll have to go.” George smiled. “The case can’t be fought without you.”

“You said that you would do all.”

“I said we would recommend a firm of attorneys to represent you. But they can’t fight the case without producing the claimant. They’ll have to prove your identity and so on. The state and the Alien Property Custodian’s lawyer will want to ask you a lot of questions.”

“What questions?”

“Every sort of question. We’d better be quite clear about that. You’re liable to have to account for every moment of your life, especially the bit since you were reported missing.”

“That’s torn it,” said Arthur.

George misunderstood the remark with great care.

“Oh, I don’t think the Sergeant has any cause to worry on that score,” he said. “This is purely a domestic legal matter. The fact that he’s been fighting in a civil war here is of no interest to Pennsylvania. We might run into some trouble getting a visa, but I think we could get over that in view of the special circumstances. Of course, the Greeks could make it tough for him if he wanted to return here afterwards, but beyond that there’s nothing they can do. After all, it’s not as if he’d committed some felony for which he could be extradited
by the Greek government, is it?” He paused. “You’d better translate that, Miss Kolin,” he added.

Miss Kolin translated. When she had finished, there was a tense silence. The Sergeant and Arthur stared at one another grimly. At last the Sergeant turned to George again.

“How much you say, this money?”

“Well, I’m going to be frank with you, Sergeant. Until I was quite sure who you were, I didn’t want to make it sound too attractive. Now, you’d better know the facts. After various tax deductions, you stand to get about half a million dollars.”

“Crikey!” said Arthur, and the Sergeant swore violently in German.

“Of course, that is only if you win the case. The Commonwealth is after the money too. Obviously, they’ll try to prove that you’re an impostor and you’ll have to be able to prove that you’re not.”

The Sergeant had risen impatiently and was pouring himself another glass of wine. George went on talking without a pause.

“It shouldn’t be difficult, I think, if it’s gone about in the right way. There are all sorts of possibilities. For instance, supposing for some reason you’d had your fingerprints taken—while you were in the German army, say—why then you wouldn’t have any more to worry about. On the other hand …”

“Please!” The Sergeant held up his hand. “Please, Mr. Carey, I must think.”

“Sure,” said George. “I was being stupid. It must be quite a shock to realize that you’re a rich man. It’ll take time for you to get adjusted.”

There was silence again. The Sergeant looked at Arthur and then they both looked at Miss Kolin sitting there impassively with her notebook. They could not say what was on their minds in front of her in Greek or German. Arthur
shrugged. The Sergeant sighed and sat down by George again.

“Mr. Carey,” he said, “I cannot so immediately decide what I must do. I must have time. There are so many things.”

George nodded sagely as if he had suddenly understood the true nature of the Sergeant’s dilemma. “Ah yes. I should have realized that, other difficulties apart, this situation presents you with quite a problem in revolutionary ethics.”

“Please?”

Miss Kolin translated rapidly and with a faint sneer that did not please George in the least. But the Sergeant seemed not to notice it.

He nodded absently. “Yes, yes. That is so. I must have time to think about many things.”

George thought that it was time for slightly plainer speaking. “There’s one point I’d like to be clear about,” he said. “That is, if you don’t mind taking me into your confidence.”

“Yes? A point?”

“Are you known to the Greek authorities under your own name?”

“Now, chum—” Arthur began warningly.

But George interrupted him. “Save it, Arthur. The Sergeant’s going to have to tell me eventually anyway if I’m to be any use to him. You see that, don’t you, Sergeant?”

The Sergeant thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. It is a good question, Corporal. I see his reason. Mr. Carey, I am known by another name to the police.”

“Very well, then. I’m not interested in helping the Greek police. I’m concerned with the disposal of a big estate. Supposing that alias of yours could be kept out of the proceedings altogether—and I don’t see why it shouldn’t—would that make your decision easier?”

The Sergeant’s shrewd eyes watched him steadily. “Would
there be no photographs in the newspapers of such a lucky man, Mr. Carey?”

“Sure, there’d be pictures all over the front pages. Oh, I see. You mean that, names or no names, the fact that you’d been in Greece would be bound to attract attention here and the pictures would identify you anyway.”

“So many persons know my face,” said the Sergeant apologetically. “So you see, I must think.”

“Yes, I see that,” said George. He knew now that the Sergeant understood the position as clearly as he did. If the robbery or robberies in which he had been concerned were extraditable offences, then any kind of publicity would be fatal to him. Among those who would know his face, for instance, would be the clerks in the Salonika branch of the Eurasian Credit Bank. The only thing the Sergeant did not understand was that George was aware of the true position. No doubt a day would come when it would be safe to enlighten him; in Mr. Sistrom’s office perhaps. For the present, discretion was advisable.

“How long do you want to think, Sergeant?” he said.

“Until tomorrow. If you will tomorrow night come back we will speak again.”

“O.K.”

“And you will bring also my family papers?”

“I’ll do that.”

“Then
auf Wiedersehen
.”

“Auf Wiedersehen.”

“You will not forget the papers?”

“No, I won’t forget, Sergeant.”

Arthur took them back to the truck. He was silent on the way. It was evident that he, too, had plenty to think about. But when they were in the truck again and he was about to do up the canvas, he paused, and leaned on the tailboard.

“Do you like the Sarge?” he said.

“He’s quite a guy, you must be very fond of him.”

“Best pal in the world,” said Arthur curtly. “I was just asking. I wouldn’t like anything to happen to him, if you take my meaning.”

George chuckled. “How would you like to be the most unpopular man in Philadelphia, Arthur?”

“Eh?”

“That’s what I shall be if anything happens to Franz Schirmer.”

“Oh-la-la! Sorry I spoke.”

“Forget it. Say, what about taking it easy this time on some of those bends going down?”

“O.K., pal. You’re the doctor. Easy it is.”

The opening between the driver’s seat and the rear of the truck had a flap over it, and during the drive down to the culvert George struck a match so that Miss Kolin could examine the false number-plates again. She looked at them carefully and nodded. George extinguished the match impatiently. Any real hopes he might have had that the Sergeant would, after all, turn out to be only another simple-minded zealot of the Phengaros type had long since been abandoned. It was absurd to go on clutching at straws.

Promising to meet them again the following night at the same place, Arthur left them at the culvert. They stumbled back to the car, roused the old man from his sleep, and set out on the road back to Florina.

Although it was the first opportunity they had had of talking privately since they had met the Sergeant, neither of them spoke for several minutes. Then it was Miss Kolin who at last broke the silence.

“What do you intend to do?” she asked.

“Cable the office for instructions.”

“You will not inform the police?”

“Not unless the office tells me to. In any case, I’m by no
means certain that we have anything more than vague suspicions to tell them.”

“Is that your honest opinion?”

“Miss Kolin, I wasn’t sent to Europe to act as a Greek police informer. I was sent to find the rightful claimant to the Schneider Johnson estate and produce him in Philadelphia. Well, that’s what I’m doing. It’s no concern of mine
what
he is here. He can be a brigand, a bandit, an outlaw, a travelling salesman, or the Metropolitan Archbishop of Salonika, for all I care. In Philadelphia, he’s the rightful claimant to the Schneider Johnson estate, and what he is here doesn’t affect his claim in the least.”