"But now that I am here in the flesh, these lawyers are making trouble. One of them was here a little while since, and he wanted documentary evidence of my identity."
"Who was the lawyer?"
"A Mr. Screw, one of the executors of the will."
"Who is the other executor?" asked the Duke quickly.
"Barker's father."
The Englishman's face darkened, and he puffed savagely at his cigar. He had been angry with Barker the day before. Now he began to suspect him of making trouble.
"What sort of evidence did the man want?" he asked at length.
"Any sort of documentary evidence would do. He asked me for my certificate of birth, and I told him he could not have it. And then he went so far as to remark in a very disagreeable way that he could not authorise me to draw upon the estate until I produced evidence."
"Well, that is natural enough."
"It would have been so at first. But they had accepted the mere signature to my letter from Heidelberg as proof of my existence, and I got word in Baden in July that I might draw as much as I pleased. And now they turn upon me and say I am not myself. Something has happened. Fortunately I have not touched the money, in spite of their kind permission."