"Who would that be?" he said, stiffly. "What old comrade in-arms?"
"Colonel Robert Bellmon, sir," the little man said.
The Graf straightened. So Bellmon had made it, had he?
"This is very kind of Colonel Bellmon," the Graf said. "But if it is permitted, I would prefer to be in Marburg."
"If you wil1, sir," the little Jew said, "please come with me. I have a car, here, sir," Captain Sanford T. Felter said.
The Graf was not used to arguing with. authority.
"Very well," he said.
The Jew"s Buick Roadmaster was the biggest automobile the Colonel Count von Greiffenberg had ever seen. The softness of the seats was incredible. They were like a very comfortable couch."
"May I be permitted to inquire where I am being taken?"
"Kronberg Castle, sir. Colonel Bellmon, and some others, are waiting for you there."
"Some others?"
The little Jew didn"t answer that question.
"It"ll take us just about an hour, sir," he said.
Colonel Graf Peter-Paul von Greiffenberg dozed off.
The last time Colonel Graf Peter-Paul von Greiffenberg had been to Kronberg Castle was at a reception given by Prince Philip of Hesse. Now, he was not very surprised to see, it had been taken over by the Americans. To judge by the officers he saw, they were using it as some sort of rest hotel for their senior officers. The little Jew opened the door for him and led him into the hotel.
"If you"ll come with me, please, sir," he said.
The inside of the castle was just as luxuriously furnished as it ever had been.
"Colonel, if you"ll just sit here a moment, I"ll go get Colonel Bellmon," the little Jew said, ushering him into an armchair.
"Get this gentleman whatever he wants," the little Jew said to a waiter.
"What can I get you, sir?" the waiter asked.
"Nothing, thank you," he said. "I think I"ll walk around. If I may."
"Of course, sir." He walked into what used to be the library. It was still the library, and through its French doors he could see the rolling lawn. He went to look out.
He saw Bellmon. Bellmon and a tall, good-looking young man were driving golf b.a.l.l.s. The colonel was perversely pleased that the little Jew had not been able to find Bellnon. He considered walking through the French, doors and just going up to him. And then he decided he had better wait. He was, in effect, Bellmon"s guest.
There was a blond child, a boy, a beautiful little thing, being attended by a middle-aged woman in an army nurse"s uniform, and a blond young woman obviously the child"s mother. The young woman looked too young to be a general"s wife, but she had a coat, mink, he thought, and clothes and jewelry that made it plain she was not a junior officer"s wife.
She belonged, the colonel decided, to the tall blond man driving golf b.a.l.l.s with Colonel Bellmon. There was something about him that smelled of money and position.
Then the little Jew appeared and walked quickly over to Colonel Bellmon.
Bellmon dropped his golf club and started into the building.
The young man went to the young woman. They started for the building. It must be Bellmon"s son and daughter. That"s who it had to be.
Colonel Count Peter-Paul von Greiffenberg turned and faced the door through which Bellmon would appear. He would, he told himself, not lose control of his emotions. He would be what he was, an officer and a gentleman.
Bellmon entered the room and saw him and, the colonel knew, recognized him. But he did not cross the room to him.
Do I look that bad?
The young woman in the mink coat, clutching the child in her arms, came into the room. She gave the child to the handsome young man. And then she crossed the room, and looked into his eyes.
"Papa?" she asked.
end.