“No. But odd details sometimes take on importance.”
“As I was saying, my son was next sent to a school, St. Mark’s, in Massachusetts. He was there’t vo years. I was again approached by a representative of Continental Studios, this time directly. A very young and very brash young Jew. He had gone to Harvard, I must tell you.”
“Then he must have been a very bright, as well as a very brash, young Jew, Herr Baron,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“He explained to me that in order to preserve my ex-wife’s public reputation, it had been decided to send the boy out of the United States.”
“To you?” “No. What he said was that Max Liebermann, who owned Continental Studios, wanted the best possible education for the boy. It turned out, by the way, that the young Jew lawyer was Liebermann’s nephew.”
“Was his name Liebermann?”
“No, Fine,” the Baron said. “Stanley S. Fine.” “Go on,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“It was put to me that Die Schule am Rosenberg, in Switzerland.
” He looked at von Heurten-Mitnitz, who nodded to show he knew about
“Rosey.”
“… was the sort of place where Eric belonged,” Fulmar went on.
“Fine solicited my influence in getting him admitted.”
“And did you use your influence to do so, Herr Baron?”
“Yes, I did. After consulting with some friends of mine in the Party, and with, of course, the Baroness.”
“Officially or unofficially?”
“At first unofficially, and then officially. It was necessary to settle the question of whether or not the boy was Aryan.”
“And?”
“My former wife is descended on both sides from good, solid, Silesian peasant stock. My son is unquestionably Aryan.”
“And how does that affect his standing in the Almanac de Gotha?” The Almanac was a quasi-o ficial publication listing royal and noble bloodlines.
The Baron gave him an icy look.
“It has not yet come up,” he said. “If it does, and if he were a German, he would be in his own right Baron von Kolbe. And, of course, as my eldest male child, he is heir to my title.”
“Under German law, he is German,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“As I said, Herr von Heurten-Mitnitz, so far as I know the matter has not come up.”
“Yes, “von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “So you got him into Rosey?”
“Not only that, but I paid for it. I couldn’t have it said that a Jew was paying for my son’s education, could I? I paid for it, and I was happy to do so.”
“Did you intend to finally bring the boy to Germany?” von Heurtenmitnitz asked.
“That’s precisely what I had in mind,” the Baron said. Von Heurtenmitnitz looked at him, waiting for amplification.
“On his graduation from Rosey,” the Baron went on, “I arranged for him to matriculate at Philips University in Marburg an der Lahn. As I had, and my father had. At some time during his college years, when it appeared to me that he was sufficiently mature to understand the circumstances, I planned to discuss his future with him. I had come to believe the best thing for him would be to enter military service, either with my regiment or perhaps even the Waffen-SS.”
“And your plans for him, “von Heurten-Mitnitz said dryly, somehow went awry?”
“Since I was naturally unable to meet him when he came to the university,” the Baron said, “I asked the manager of our plant in Marburg–we make special’ aircraft engines there–to ease his path.
The manager is also an alter Marburger. He went to the president of our Bruderschaft (fraternity) and explained the situation.
Accommodation was arranged for him in the dormitory, that sort of thing, and he agreed to look out for him.”
“I see,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“My son wanted nothing whatever to do with my Bruderschaft,” the Baron said.
“Excuse me?”
“My son appeared in Marburg in the company of a young Moroccan named Sidi el Ferruch, who was the son of the Pasha of Marrakech.
They had been roommates at Rosey. They arrived in a Delahaye touring car bearing diplomatic license plates. The car was driven by el Ferruch’s personal bodyguard. The bodyguard and el Ferruch’s manservant, as well as el Ferruch himself, were traveling on diplomatic passports. They were also armed.”