The Poellenberg Inheritance Read Online Free PDF Page A

round a paved courtyard big enough to have taken half a dozen of the Mercedes. Trees enclosed the garden, but he glimpsed vast lawns and formal beds; the whole place gave an illusion of being in the depth of the countryside instead of within five miles of Munich’s centre.
    He got out, the chauffeur preceding him. A butler in uniform, brass buttoned tail-coat, white cotton gloves, opened the front door, took his hat away, and made a small bow, asking him to follow. The main hall of the house was like a church. It was dominated by a huge, hideous Victorian stained-glass window at one end; the ceiling disappeared upward in painted clouds and bibulous fauns pursuing naked nymphs. The scent of flowers was overpowering; there were huge bowls and urns filled with them, and it gave the hall a funereal smell. The furniture was heavy mahogany, massively carved, upholstered in velvet. A ten-foot gilt mirror gave Fisher a sudden glimpse of himself, standing dwarfed and uncertain in the ugly, overpowering surroundings with the light from the stained-glass window making bloody patterns over him.
    â€˜This way, please,’ the butler said. He opened a door and Fisher stepped through. It was like walking into the sunlight. The room was large and painted white. The colours were yellow and green and the sunshine poured into it from three floor-length windows. Three people waited for him like figures in a stage set; the centre one was sitting, very upright, her back to the light, holding a cane in one hand. Behind her two other figures were silhouetted, standing sentinel either side of the sofa.
    â€˜Your Highnesses, Herr Fisher.’ He heard the butler’s voice and then the click of the door closing. He walked forward into the room, across an Aubusson carpet covered in green and golden flowers woven in garlands from the centre, and stopped in front of the sofa. The Princess Von Hessel held out her hand, palm downwards. Fisher looked her in the eye and shook it firmly.
    â€˜How do you do, Mr. Fisher. Let me present my sons.’
    Seventy-six. She looked about fifty; there wasn’t a white hair on her head, and the face was like a predator bird’s, beaked nose, taut skin, dark eyes bright and unblinking, with a yellow circle round the iris. Formidable wasn’t the word. But he hadn’t kissed her hand. He felt comforted by that.
    â€˜My eldest son Prince Heinrich. My second son Prince Philip. Please sit down.’
    He took his eyes off the woman and examined the sons. The younger attracted his attention first because he was extremely handsome, in his late thirties, and very blond. He looked out of place beside the South German darkness of his mother and his elder brother. The elder was very like the Princess. He had the same birdlike face, but the sharp lines of character and pride were blurred, the contours sagged and the dark eyes were sunk in puffs of flesh. He stood very upright, shoulders well back and one hand, with a big gold crested ring on the last finger, rested on the back of the sofa.
    â€˜Did you have a good journey?’ That was the younger son, Philip.
    â€˜Fine, thanks.’ They were all speaking English. Fisher would have preferred to converse in German but there seemed no way of changing over. He decided to take the initiative before the old woman did. He suspected that the sons were not expected to contribute much.
    â€˜You didn’t say very much about this investigation in your letter, Princess.’ He had no intention of calling her Your Highness, like a bloody footman. His hostility was rising with every minute. He resented the imperious stare, the arrogance which was quite unselfconscious. ‘You mentioned the recovery of some property, but that’s all.’
    â€˜I thought it best to wait until you were here and we could discuss the details privately. I believe one should keep these things out of correspondence, Mr. Fisher. As a family, we have learned to be