Is it possible I left it in Dresden? he tried to remember. No, when he bought the novel in the train station he had stowed it in his briefcase. So someone must have stolen it while I was on the train! he concluded, as he ran toward the station exit.

The elderly lady?

But in that case she hardly would have wakened him, and anyway all she was carrying were her purse and a small suitcase.

The two gentlemen!

But what did they look like? He thought he remembered one having a mustache, a blond mustache. People with blond mustaches are somewhat rare.

He stopped a crewman. “I’ve been robbed,” he called out. “I’ve been robbed by a blond man! My briefcase, my money!”

“You have to report it to the Bahnpolizei,” the man said, then went on his way.

If only I’d memorized their exact features! Silbermann thought, in desperation. I don’t even know what they looked like, all these damned ordinary-looking faces.

He hurried through the gate and stopped just past it.

Maybe they have yet to pass through, he hoped. I’ll wait here. Then he realized they were bound to be faster than he. So he hurried down to the station hall and decided to wait outside the exit. But the station had several exits, and he couldn’t make up his mind which one to watch. And by that point there were only stragglers, since most of the passengers had already left. Despondent, he collapsed onto a bench.

It’s pointless, he decided. After all, a thief doesn’t wait for the person he’s robbed to wake up and chase after him. He’s sure to be gone by now.

A policeman strolled slowly past him. Silbermann jumped up and ran over to the man.

“I’ve been robbed,” he explained, his voice faltering. “In the train from Dresden. They took approximately thirty-one thousand marks. A briefcase, a leather briefcase.”

The policeman stopped, stared at him for a moment in disbelief, but then seemed convinced.

“Have you inquired if the briefcase—your money was in the briefcase, correct?—wasn’t handed in to the conductor by chance? In any case it’s outside my jurisdiction. You have to go to the railway police. See the sign there? Go right away and report your loss. You also need to check with lost and found.”

“The railway police?” Silbermann asked quietly.

“Of course! That’s what they’re for. Just don’t wait too long, hurry.”

They had been walking together and were now standing across from the police station. “Don’t waste any time explaining things. Go make your report.”

“I don’t know,” Silbermann said, his voice sounding anguished and undecided.

“What don’t you know?” asked the constable, growing suspicious. “Did you have a briefcase or not?”

“Of course I had one. With over thirty thousand marks! But maybe I’d better go back to the platform and check if someone hasn’t turned it in there.”

“You can check to your heart’s content, but anyone who goes to the trouble of stealing thirty thousand marks isn’t going to be so quick to return it.”