Missing Person by Patrick Modiano, Daniel Weissbort

Freddie Howard de Luz..."
    He stared at me suspiciously and thrust a hand into his trouser pocket. He was going to bring out a gun and threaten me. No. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow.
    "Who are you?"
    "I knew Freddie in America a long time ago, and I'd like some news of him."
    His face brightened up suddenly at this lie.
    "In America? You knew Freddie in America?"
    The word "America" seemed to send him into a reverie. He was so grateful to me for having known Freddie "in America," he seemed ready to embrace me.
    "In America? So, you knew him when he was, when he was..."
    "John Gilbert's confidant."
    All his suspicions melted away.
    He even took me by the hand.
    "Come this way."
    He led me to the left, skirting the surrounding wall, where the grass was less tall and one could just make out an old path.
    "I've had no news of Freddie for a long time," he said in a solemn voice.
    His green velvet suit was worn right down in places, and pieces of leather had been sewn on to the shoulders, elbows and knees.
    "Are you American?"
    "Yes."
    "Freddie sent me several postcards from America."
    "Did you keep them?"
    "Of course."
    We walked toward the château.
    "You've never been here?" he asked me.
    "Never."
    "But how did you get the address?"
    "Through a cousin of Freddie's, Claude Howard de Luz..."
    "I don't know him."
    We approached one of the cupola-topped pavilions I had noticed at either end of the château's façade. We skirted it. He pointed to a small door:
    "It's the only door you can get in by."
    He turned a key in the lock. We entered. He led me through a dark, empty room, then along a corridor. We came out into another room, with stained glass windows which made it look like a chapel or a winter garden.
    "This was the summer dining-room," he said.
    No furniture, except for an old divan, covered in worn red velvet upholstery on which we sat. He took a pipe from his pocket and lit it calmly. The stained glass windows gave the daylight that filtered through a pale blue tint.
    I lifted my head and noticed that the ceiling, too, was pale blue, with brighter patches - clouds. He had followed my gaze.
    "Freddie painted the ceiling and wall."
    The only wall in the room was painted green and one could see a palm-tree that had almost faded away. I tried to imagine this room as it had been, when we used to have our meals here. The ceiling where I had painted the sky. The green wall, with its palm-tree, by which I had hoped to lend the room a tropical air. The stained glass windows through which blue-tinted daylight fell on our faces. But whose faces?
    "This is the only room one can still get into," he said. "All the others are under seal."
    "Why?"
    "The house is under foreclosure."
    These words sent a chill through me.
    "They've impounded everything, but they've left me here. How long, I don't know."
    He pulled on his pipe and shook his head.
    "From time to time, some fellow from the Estate takes a look around. They don't seem to be able to make up their minds."
    "Who?"
    "The Estate."
    I did not quite understand what he meant, but I remembered the rotting wooden signboard: "Estate Management."
    "Have you been here long?"
    "Oh, yes ... I came when Mr. Howard de Luz died ... Freddie's grandfather... I looked after the grounds and was the mistress's chauffeur ... Freddie's grandmother ..."
    "And Freddie's parents?"
    "I think they died very young. He was raised by his grandparents."
    So, I had been raised by my grandparents. After the death of my grandfather, I lived here alone, with my grandmother, born Mabel Donahue, and this man.
    "What's your name?" I asked him.
    "Robert."
    "What did Freddie call you?"
    "His grandmother called me Bob. She was American. Freddie called me Bob too."
    The name Bob meant nothing to me. But, then, he did not recognize me either.
    "Then, the grandmother died. Things weren't going too well financially by then... Freddie's grandfather had squandered his wife's fortune... A very big