The Schirmer Inheritance

After a further visit to Montclair, he had set to work deciphering Mr. Moreton’s diary. By the time he had completed the task and identified all the photographed documents in the deed box he was aware of an unfamiliar feeling of inadequacy and self-doubt. Munster, Muhlhausen, Karlsruhe, and Berlin-he had dropped bombs on many of the places in which Mr. Moreton had worked to piece together the history of the Schirmer family. And killed quite a few of their inhabitants, no doubt. Would he have had the patience and ingenuity to do what Mr. Moreton had done? He was inclined to doubt it. It was humiliating to be comforted by the knowledge that his own task was likely to prove simpler.

The morning after his arrival in Paris, he went to the American Embassy, established relations with the legal department there, and asked them to recommend a German-English interpreter whom they had themselves used and whose sworn depositions would later be accepted by the Orphans’ Court in Philadelphia and by the Alien Property Custodian.

When he returned to his hotel a letter awaited him. It was from Mr. Moreton.

My DEAR MR. CAREY:

Thank you very much for your letter. I am, of course, very interested to hear that my old friend John Sistrom has decided to take the Schirmer inquiry further, and very pleased to know that you are to have the responsibility. I congratulate you. You must stand well with John J. to be entrusted with this job. You may be sure that no newspaper will get a word out of me on the subject. I note with pleasure your flattering intention of taking the same precautionary measures as I did to ensure secrecy. If you will permit me to give you a word of advice on the interpreter question-don’t take anyone you feel you do not like personally. You will be so much together that if you do not quite like him to begin with, you will end by hating the sight of him.

As to the points in my diary on which you were not clear, I have set but my answers to your questions on a separate sheet of paper. Please remember, however, that I am relying upon my memory, which in some instances may have failed me. The answers are given “to the best of my knowledge and belief.”

I have given some thought to your problems in Germany and it seems to me likely that Father Weichs, the Bad Schwennheim priest, will be among those with whom you will be getting in touch at an early stage. But when I tried to recall what I had said to you about my interview with him, it seemed to me that I had left out several important things. My diary, I know, gives only the barest facts. It was my last interview in Germany and I was in a hurry to get home. But, as you may imagine, I remember the occasion vividly. A more detailed account of it may prove of some service to you.

As I told you, he informed me of Friedrich Schirmer’s death and I gave him a cautious account of my reasons for inquiring about the man. We then had some conversation which, as it concerned Johann Schirmer to some extent, I will give you as I remember it.

Father Weichs is, or was, a tall, fair man with a bony face and sharp blue eyes. No fool, I warn you. And nothing passive about him. My halting German set the muscles of his jaws twitching impatiently. Fortunately, he speaks English well, and after the courtesies were over, that was the language we used.

“I hoped you might be a relative,” he said. “He spoke once of an uncle in America whom he had never seen.”

“Had he no relatives here? No wife?” I asked.

“His wife died about sixteen years ago, in Schaffhausen. She was a Swiss. They had lived there for over twenty years. Their son was born there. But when she died he returned to Germany. During his last illness he used to speak of his son, Johann, but he had not seen him for many years. Johann was married and he had lived with the couple for a time, but there had been a quarrel and he had left their house.”

“Where did they live?”

“In Germany, but he did not tell me where. The whole subject was very painful to him. He spoke of it only once.”

“What did they quarrel about?”

Father Weichs hesitated at this question. Evidently he knew the answer to it. What he said was: “I cannot say.”

“You don’t know?” I persisted.

He hesitated again, then answered very carefully: “Friedrich Schirmer was not, perhaps, as simple a man as he appeared. That is all I can say”

“I see.”

“De mortuis… the old man was very sick.”

“Y OU have absolutely no idea then, Father, of the whereabouts of Johann?”

“I regret, none. I looked among the old man’s things for the address of someone to tell of his death, but I did not find anything. He lived at the sanatorium for old people. The woman director there said that he received no letters, only his annuity every month. Will the son receive the legacy now?”