The Schirmer Inheritance

“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.”