Brother Sylvester must have enjoyed one of his flashes of competence, for he managed to transfer a telephone call from the switchboard to the extension where Anselm was to be found. The shock of the feat momentarily distracted Anselm’s attention from DI Armstrong’s words:
‘We’ve put all the evidence to Schwermann during the interviews. He said only one thing, a quotation: “Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach! in meiner Brust.”‘
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you there. ‘
‘I don’t need help, thank you. It’s from Goethe’s Faust. Translates as “Two souls dwell, alas, within my breast.” I think it’s am admission of sorts.’
‘But it won’t get you very far with a jury’
‘I realise that. Anyway, the investigation is over. We’re going to charge him tomorrow with murder.’
‘Joint enterprise?’
‘Yes.’
Anselm had a premonition of what was to follow
‘As for Victor Brionne, or Berkeley, nothing has turned up. There are no records to show that he ever lived or died, not under those names.
Anselm thought back to the charming Robert B, legs crossed, confiding the little he knew; coming to Vespers and taking his time in parting.
DI Armstrong said, ‘Brionne has been a very cautious man. He must have changed his name again – perhaps by deed poll, or simply by claiming his papers had been destroyed: that would have been fairly easy for a refugee after the war. Either way, there’s little chance of finding him. It is as though he never existed.’