The Schirmer Inheritance

“Now, don’t talk like that, Mr. Carey. I’m doing my best. Look! If you were to tell me what you want to know about this chap for, I could tell certain persons who might be able to help you.”

“What persons?”

“Persons with information to give.”

“You mean information to sell, don’t you?”

“I said give.”

George examined his guest thoughtfully. “You’re British, aren’t you, Arthur?” he said after a moment. “Or is that confidential?”

Arthur grinned. “Want to hear me speak Greek? I speak it like a native.”

“All right, then. You’re a citizen of the world, then, eh?”

“Goldsmith!” said Arthur unexpectedly.

“Pardon?”

“Oliver Goldsmith,” repeated Arthur; “he wrote a book called The Citizen of the World. We had it at school. Lot of crap about a Chinaman who comes to London and sees the sights.”

“What part of London do you come from, Arthur?”

Arthur wagged a finger coyly. “Ah, naughty, naughty! That would be telling!”

“Afraid I’ll check up on the British War Office lists of troops reported missing in Greece and find out which ones came from where you came from?”

“What do you think, chum?”

George smiled. “O.K., Arthur. Here it is. This man Schirmer I’ve been inquiring about was entitled to some money left by a distant relative of his in America. He was reported missing. I came here really to get confirmation of his death, but I’d also like to know if he ever had any children. That’s all. I found out today that he’s dead.”

“From old Ma Vassiotis?”

“That’s right. And now I’m on my way home.”

“I get it.” Arthur was thinking hard now. “Much money, is there?” he said at last.

“Just enough to make it worth my while coming here.”

“And that little bit of homework you’ve got with you?”

“Miss Kolin, you mean? She’s an interpreter.”

“I get you.” Arthur came to a decision. “Supposing-just supposing, mind-that there was a bit more information you could find out about this German. Would it be worth your while to stay another couple of days?”

“That would depend on the information.”

“Well, supposing he’d had a wife and kids. They’d be in line for the cash, wouldn’t they?”

“ Did he have a wife and kids?”

“I’m not saying he did and I’m not saying he didn’t. But just supposing-”

“If there was clear, legal proof of that to be had, I’d certainly stay. But I’m not staying just in order to listen to a lot of unconfirmed hearsay, and I’m not paying out another cent to anyone.”

“Nobody’s asked you to, have they?”

“Not so far.”

“Nasty suspicious nature you got, eh?”

“Yes.”

Arthur nodded gloomily. “Can’t blame you. Tricky lot of sods in this part of the world. Look, if I give you my sacred word of honour that it’ll be worth your while to stay a couple of days, will you do it?”

“You’re asking rather a lot aren’t you?”

“Listen, chum. You’re the one that’s going to get a favour done. Not me!”

“That’s what you say.”

“Well, I can’t do more. Here’s the proposition. Take it or leave it. If you want the information my friends have got, stay here and do what I tell you.”

“And what might that be?”

“Well, first of all, you don’t say one word to that little bastard of a Captain you were chin-wagging with last night. O.K.?”

“Go on.”

“All you do is go to that big cafe with the yellow blinds next door to the Acropolis Hotel between four and five tomorrow afternoon. Just sit there and have a cup of coffee. That’s all. If you get no message from me while you’re there, it’s all off. If you do get a message, it’ll be an appointment. Just say nothing and keep it.”

“What about the interpreter?”

“If she keeps her mouth shut she can come too.”

“Where would the appointment be?”

“You’d be taken to it by car.”

“I see. Just one question. I’m not exactly timid, but I would like to know a bit more about these friends of yours before I do anything about meeting them. Would they be ELAS people, for instance?”

Arthur grinned. “Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Maybe not. But I’m not half-witted. You say these friends of yours don’t want money for their information. O.K., what do they want? For that matter, what do you want?”

“Sweet Fanny Adams,” said Arthur cheerfully.

“Let’s quit kidding.”

“All right. Maybe they want to see justice done.”

“Justice?”

“Yes. Ever heard of it?”

“Sure. I’ve heard of kidnapping too.”

“Oh, blimey!” Arthur laughed. “Look, if you’re as nervous as that, chum, forget it.” He stood up. “I’ll have to be getting along now. If you want to come, be at the cafe tomorrow like I said. Otherwise-” He shrugged.

“O.K. I’ll think about it.”

“Yes, you do that. Sorry to mess up all your papers like that, but I expect you’d sooner tidy them up yourself, really. Bye-bye for now.”

“Good-bye,” said George.

Almost before the word was out of his mouth, Arthur was out of the room and shutting the door noiselessly behind him.

It was not his uncertainty about bedbugs that kept George from sleeping soundly that night.