“He asked me to give you his good wishes,” George said.
“Thank you. Are you here on his behalf?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Moreton is now an invalid and retired.” It was difficult not to be stilted with Father Weichs.
“I am sorry to hear that, of course.” The priest inclined his head courteously. “However, it was not the gentleman himself who gave me special cause to remember him. Consider! A lonely old man dies. I am his confessor. Mr. Moreton comes to me asking questions about him. That is all. It is not as unusual as you think. An old person who has been neglected by relatives for many years often becomes interesting to them when he dies. It is not often, of course, that an American lawyer comes, but even that is not remarkable in itself. There are many German families who have ties with your country.” He paused. “But the incident becomes memorable,” he added dryly, “when it proves to be a matter of importance for the police.”
“The police?” George tried hard not to look as guilty as he suddenly felt.
“I surprise you, Mr. Carey?”
“Very much. Mr. Moreton was making inquiries on behalf of a perfectly respectable American client in the matter of a legacy-” George began.
“A legacy,” interposed the priest, “which he said was for a small amount of money.” He paused and gave George a wintry smile before he went on. “I understand, of course, that size is relative and that in America it is not measured with European scales, but even in America it seems an exaggeration to call three million dollars a small amount.”
Out of the corner of his eye George saw Miss Kolin looking startled for once; but it was a poor satisfaction at that moment.
“Mr. Moreton was in a spot, Father,” he said. “He had to be discreet. The American papers had already caused trouble by giving the case too much publicity. There had been a whole lot of false claims. Besides, the case was very complicated. Mr. Moreton didn’t want to raise anybody’s hopes and then have to disappoint them.”