Walking over to the first truck, I was shocked to see Feltham’s charred remains, his body still sat at the wheel of the overturned truck. Nearby, Price was also dead but not burned. I guessed that he had managed to escape from the vehicle, but had been shot in the head. Despite my searches, I could not find Simmo.

I held no grudges against the four British soldiers, recognising that not so many weeks before, I would have been forced to do what they had done and arrest any suspected deserter. In the aftermath of the attack, I decided to bury Harker and Price in a shallow grave, having first removed their few remaining belongings, intent on returning these to their families if I could. But as I thought more about this, I realised, from what Harker had said the previous evening that nobody but a distant relative was going to miss his death. I did not wish to dishonour the man, but realised that his unfortunate death had provided me with a good opportunity to escape my present predicament. I changed into Price’s uniform and boots, which fitted me well, and put all of the men’s papers and possessions into my pockets. I then buried the pair in the woods, marking the grave with a crude cross that I assembled from two pieces of wood and some wire I salvaged from the remnants of the truck. From that point on, I assumed the identity of David Harker, a soldier from Maldon in Essex.

This transformation proved to be easier and more fruitful than I could have imagined. As Harker’s company had been largely wiped out during the Battle of the Somme, I imagined there would be few, if any, that would remember him. Even if they did, I could always claim to be a different David Harker - it was not such an unusual name. Given that Harker’s great-uncle was serving in the Navy, I also imagined that communications with him were likely to be infrequent if they existed at all.

I walked throughout that night on towards the town of Arras, as the Essex men had originally planned. On arrival at the town and the British defences, I presented myself to a senior officer and explained what had happened, identifying myself as Private David Harker and handing him Price’s papers and possessions. I also told him that to my knowledge I was the only surviving member of my company. From that point on, I was attached to a new company, fighting thereafter in both France and Italy. And all the while, I fought as David Harker and carried with me your father’s diamonds.

I hope that you will indulge me a while longer Heinrich, as I still have some further elements of the story to share.

My final months of the war were spent in Holland, running food supplies to troops and civilians. During this time, I met a Dutch girl called Katerina Plokker, who I very quickly fell in love with. With the end of the war, we made plans to marry and I decided that I would continue to live in Holland, fearful that any return to England might risk the exposure of my secret past. In December 1918, Katerina and I married in Giethoorn and moved into a small house given to us by her father. The marriage was well attended by Katerina’s family. I stuck to my story, that the only close relative I had was a great-uncle, who was still serving in the British Navy.

Katerina and I continued to live happily together in Giethoorn, among the waterways and reed beds of our rural home and on 15th January, 1920 we were blessed with a son, Gerald. During this time, I began to visit the diamond dealers in Jodenbreestraat and the canal houses along the Amstel River in Amsterdam. I was cautious at first, taking only a few of the gems with me on each visit and selling these to produce a steady income. This also gave me the perfect alibi at home - as far as Katerina and her family were concerned, I was a genuine diamond dealer, carrying on the profession I had started before the war, having sold the two remaining trawlers of the Harker family fishing business.

In the two years that followed our marriage, I learnt more and more about the diamonds that I kept locked away at home. Most were of an exceptional quality - testimony indeed to the knowledge and expertise of Jean Descartes. But gradually, as I realised their true worth, I began to sell more and more of the diamonds, in Amsterdam and beyond, and always with the same degree of caution. I never sold more than a couple at one time and always visited new dealers during each trip. In this way, I was able to sell all of the diamonds without drawing any unwanted attention to myself. I kept detailed accounts of each transaction and deposited the money that I made from these in various bank accounts.

Katerina believed that I was making a modest, but comfortable, income from my business dealings. In part this was true, as we lived off only a tiny fraction of the income that I made. And from my share of the diamond money, I began to reinvest the capital in other precious stones and a number of diamond mines, turning each investment into a tidy profit. In less than two years, I was an extremely wealthy man, but was determined to ensure that I never spent more than half of the original proceeds from the diamonds, as I had promised Franz.

By December 1920, with all of the diamonds sold and all of my accounts up to date, I realised that the total proceeds from the sale of the gems had reached a staggering amount of money - the equivalent of £80,000. It was only when I worked out the amount in British currency, that I could appreciate what a legacy Jean Descartes had left his son. And from my reinvestment of half that amount, I had amassed even more money.

At this point, I took another important decision. Supported by Katerina, I decided to move back to England, to raise Gerald as an Englishman. I had enjoyed my time in Holland, but did not feel it could ever be my real home. I missed my family back in Suffolk, although I realised that it would never be possible for me to make contact with them again. They would know of my desertion and probably believed that I was now dead. I was prepared to risk exposure at this point, knowing full well that the diamonds had been sold and confident that whatever happened to me, I had made more than adequate provision for my family and could also now arrange for you and your mother to inherit the equivalent of £40,000.

Throughout the early part of 1921, I made the necessary arrangements for us to move from Holland to England and in March we moved into our new home - Trimingham Manor - in Surrey. All of our assets have been transferred into British bank accounts without any problems. To this day, Katerina knows nothing about my real past or the story I have shared with you.

In recent months, I have been trying to learn of your whereabouts in Germany, assisted by my legal advisor, Barrington Henshaw. This has not been easy as I am sure you will appreciate, given the continuing problems caused by the aftermath of war and the ongoing political upheaval in your country. However, with Henshaw’s help, I was able to discover that you still lived in Hamburg, albeit at a new address. I was also saddened to learn that your mother, Nicole, died a couple of years back from influenza - I hope that you will accept my most sincere condolences.

In summary, you now know the full story. I have written this letter to you to set the record straight and to invite you to come forward and accept what is rightfully yours, the Descartes Inheritance. Clearly, I did not want to send you any money with this letter, for the risks that this might pose. However, if you could write back to me or make arrangements to travel to England, I will be more than happy to arrange for the transfer of the money into any bank account you suggest.

I intend to honour my promises to your father and will ensure that you receive all that is due to you.