The Numbered Account by Ann Bridge

walked in; he was really old, without any doubt.
    â€˜Ah,
mon cher de Kessler
, how good of you to come up,’ Chambertin said respectfully, rising as he spoke—it was evident that de Kessler was very senior among the directors. ‘May I present you to Mademoiselle Probyn?’
    De Kessler beamed on Julia as he bowed to her, and then asked Chambertin, rather bluntly, what he wanted?
    â€˜A little more information about Mademoiselle Armitage’s fortune. Mademoiselle Probyn has been spending the past week at La Cure at Bellardon, and brings me now a letter from Monsieur le Pasteur de Ritter, in a handwriting which I recognise well, giving the number of the late Monsieur Thalassides’ Konto and requesting me to hand everything over to her, Miss Probyn. But I understand that you have already dealt with this matter yourself.’
    â€˜Certainly—the account has been closed. Mademoiselle Armitage came in person—a charming young lady.’ He still only looked a little puzzled, and definitely repressive to his junior colleague.
    â€˜You saw her passport?’ Chambertin asked.
    â€˜But naturally.’
    â€˜And made a note of the number?’
    â€˜Certainly.’
    â€˜She provided you with
des pièces justificatives
which satisfied you?’
    â€˜My good Chambertin, for what do you take me? I work in this bank for forty-five years! What is all this? Why these questions?’
    â€˜I too come on behalf of Mademoiselle Armitage,’ Julia put in, ‘and I fear very much that something may have gone wrong—some confusion have occurred. As you know, Mademoiselle Armitage is not of age, and cannot yet take control of her fortune.’
    â€˜Bien entendu
, Mademoiselle. But there was no confusion; she was accompanied by her guardian, who signed all the receipts.’ He looked more puzzled, now, and turned to Chambertin. ‘You know Monsieur le Pasteur de Ritter? A man of a very old and respected Bernois family.’
    Again Julia spoke before Chambertin could reply.
    â€˜But you, yourself, are not personally acquainted with Monsieur de Ritter?’
    â€˜Till last week, no—only by reputation.’
    Chambertin made to speak; Julia gestured him to silence.
    â€˜Monsieur de Kessler, this guardian who signed thereceipts—was he tallish, rather stout, and with an iron-grey beard slightly parted in the middle?’
    â€˜Exactement
, Mademoiselle,’ de Kessler said, looking relieved. Julia quickly put a term to his relief.
    â€˜Monsieur Chambertin, would you be so good as to describe your old friend Monsieur de Ritter to your colleague? He is more likely to believe you than me.’
    In pitiable embarrassment, but firmly, Chambertin said—
‘Mon cher
, the Pasteur de Ritter, whom I have known for thirty years, is a short man, and noticeably slender.’
    â€˜Clean-shaven, also,
n’est-ce-pas?
’ Julia added.
    â€˜Yes—certainly.’ While de Kessler gaped Chambertin turned to Julia and asked—‘How comes it that you know so well the appearance of—of the man who came and signed the receipts?’
    â€˜The impostor, you mean? Oh, I happened to see him, and the girl who was impersonating Miss Armitage, on my way here; they travelled to Calais on the same train.’
    De Kessler, now quite bewildered, said irritably—‘Mademoiselle, what is all this talk of impostors and impersonators?’
    Instead of answering him, Julia turned to his colleague.
    â€˜Monsieur Chambertin, wouldn’t it be as well to let Monsieur de Kessler see the documents
I
have brought?’ ‘Certainly.
Les voici, mon cher.’
    De Kessler went round behind the desk, put on his glasses, and studied Julia’s papers, muttering to himself as he did so:—‘The bankers, yes, and the lawyers; the executors, yes; and the British Consul-General in Istanbul has
gestempelt
the death certificate.’ Last of all he