“They weren’t interested in Friedrich Schirmer?”
“No. I think that they believed in the end that it was a trick of Mr. Moreton’s to mislead them. I do not know. Perhaps they only became tired of me. In any case, they let me go. But you see I have reason to remember Mr. Moreton.”
“Yes. But I don’t see how he could have anticipated the trouble he would cause you.”
“Oh, I have no bitterness, Mr. Carey.” He sat back in his chair. “But I should like to know the truth.”
George hesitated. “Friedrich Schirmer’s family was a branch of the Schneider family in question. The actual connection would take a long time to explain, but I can tell you that the German government did not know of it.”
The priest smiled. “I see that it is still necessary to be discreet.”
George flushed. “I’m being as frank as I can, Father. This has always been a pretty funny sort of a case. There have been so many false claimants to the estate already that, even if a legitimate one were found, it would be enormously difficult now to establish the claim in the American courts. The fact is that, in all probability, no claim ever will be established. The money will just go to the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.”
“Then why are you here, Mr. Carey?”
“Partly because the law firm I work for succeeded Mr. Moreton in the matter. Partly because it is our duty to find the heir. Partly because the matter has to be cleared up so that our firm may be paid.”
“That, at least, is frank.”
“Maybe I should add, too, that if there is a rightful heir, then he or she ought to have the money and not the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. The federal government and the state will get most of it in taxes in the end anyway, but there’s no reason why someone else shouldn’t enjoy it too.”
“Mr. Moreton mentioned a trust.”
“Well-”
“Ah, I see. That also was discretion.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Was Friedrich Schirmer the rightful heir?”
“Mr. Moreton thought so.”
“Then why did Mr. Moreton not tell the courts so?”
“Because Friedrich Schirmer was dead and because he was afraid that if Friedrich were found to have no living heir, the German government would fake one to get the money. In fact they did produce an old man they claimed to be the heir. Mr. Moreton fought the claim for over a year.”
Father Weichs was silent for a moment; then he sighed. “Very well. How can I help you now, Mr. Carey?”
“Mr. Moreton said that you promised to let him know if Friedrich Schirmer’s son, Johann, appeared. Did he?”
“No.”
“Do you know if any letters ever came for Friedrich Schirmer to the sanatorium where he died?”
“Up to the middle of 1940 no letter came.”
“You would have known?”
“Oh yes. I visited the sanatorium often.”
“And after the middle of 1940?”
“The sanatorium was commandeered by the army. It became the headquarters of a training school for radio operators.”
“I see. Well, that seems to be fairly conclusive.” George stood up. “Thanks a lot, Father.”
But Father Weichs had made a movement of protest. “One moment, Mr. Carey. You asked if Johann Schirmer came to Bad Schwennheim.”
“Yes?”
“He did not come, but his son did.”
“His son?” Slowly George sat down again.
“He would be of interest to you, the son?”
“If he were a grandson of Friedrich Schirmer, he would interest me very much.”
Father Weichs nodded. “He came to see me. I must explain that when the army occupied the sanatorium, I visited the Commandant of the school to offer the services of my church to those who wished them. The Commandant was not himself of the religion, but he was sympathetic and made it as easy as possible for those who wished to come to Mass.”
He looked thoughtfully at George. “I do not know if you served in the army, Mr. Carey,” he went on after a moment or two. George nodded. “So! Then you may have noticed that there were some men-among the young front fighters I mean-who were not religious and yet found it necessary sometimes to seek some of the consolations of religion. It was when they had to find the courage to face death or mutilation, after they had seen what those things were, that the need seemed to come. Then the elaborate materialism of the intelligent among them proved as useless and sterile as the hero myths they had brought with them from the Hitler Jugend. They found that they needed something else, and sometimes they went to a priest to look for it.” He smiled faintly. “Of course, it never appeared as simple as that at the time. They came to me for many commonplace reasons, these young men-to talk about their families, to ask advice on some material problem, to borrow a book or a magazine, to show photographs they had taken, to enjoy the privacy of a garden. But the outward reason was unimportant. Though they might not always realize it, what they wanted was, in some way, to come to terms with me as a priest. They wanted something that in their hearts they thought I might be able to give them-an inner peace and strength.”
“And Schirmer’s grandson was one of them?”
Father Weichs shrugged. “I was not sure. Perhaps, yes. But I will tell you. He had been sent to the school for special training. He was a-”
He broke off, hesitating, and then, glancing at Miss Kolin, said the word Fallschirmjager.
“He was a paratrooper,” she said.
The priest nodded. “Thank you, yes. He came to see me one day in September or October-I do not quite remember. He was a tall, strong-looking young man, very much a soldier. He had been wounded in Belgium in the attack on the fortress of Eben-Emael, and was not yet well enough to return to combat duty. He came to ask me if I knew of his grandfather, Friedrich Schirmer.”
“Did he say where his home was?” asked George quickly.
“Yes. He came from Koln.”
“Did he say what his father’s occupation was?”
“No. I cannot remember that he did.”
“Had he any brothers or sisters?”
“No, he was the only child.”
“Did he know when he came that his grandfather was dead?”
“No. It was a great disappointment to him. When he was a boy the grandfather had lived in his parents’ house and been kind to him. Then one day there had been a quarrel and the old man had gone.”
“Did he say how he knew that the old man had lived at Bad Schwennheim?”
“Yes. The quarrel had been serious, and after Friedrich left, his name was never mentioned by the boy’s parents. But the boy loved his grandfather. Even before he went to school the old man had taught him how to write and to rule his exercise books properly. Later the grandfather helped him with arithmetic problems and talked to him much of commercial affairs. You knew Friedrich Schirmer was a bookkeeper?”
“Yes.”
“The boy did not forget him. When he was about fourteen his parents received a letter from the old man saying that he was retiring to live at Bad Schwennheim. He had heard them discussing it. They destroyed the letter, but he remembered the name of the town, and when he was sent to the army school there he tried to find his grandfather. He did not know until I told him that, by a strange chance, he was living in the building where the old man had died.”
“I see.”
Father Weichs looked down at his hands. “You would not have thought to see him or speak with him that he was a young man whom it was necessary to protect from disillusion. I think I failed him. I did not understand him
