“But maybe someone found it.”

The constable scowled at him. “You just said it was stolen from you! How can anyone be expected to find it?”

Silbermann’s situation was getting somewhat critical. At the moment he was just as scared of the railway police as he was of losing his briefcase.

If I file a report, he thought, then not only will I have lost my money, I’ll lose my freedom in the bargain. On the other hand, if I don’t file a report I have no prospect of seeing my briefcase or my money ever again. Either way I’m done for. That briefcase was my last remaining asset. But then he again felt a glimmer of hope, thinking that someone might have found the briefcase and handed it in—as unlikely as that might seem.

“I’ll ask one more time,” he said, and went back to the platform. Bewildered, the constable shook his head and watched him leave.

He was already at the gate when he realized he hadn’t bought a platform ticket, but to his great relief he saw that the train was still in the station. He hurried to a vending machine, paid for the ticket, then ran to the platform and asked for the conductor.

“Did anyone find a briefcase?” he said, nearly out of breath from running. “I lost my briefcase. With over thirty thousand marks!”

The conductor puffed out his cheeks in surprise. “Thirty thousand marks,” he said, impressed. “Good lord!”

“Has someone turned it in?”

“Not to me. But you need to file a report with the lost-and-found bureau. Incidentally if you want to know my opinion there’s not much point. Thirty thousand marks are enough to turn an honest man into a scoundrel. Where were you sitting?”

“In second class,” said Silbermann, now hoping he had somehow overlooked the briefcase when he had searched his compartment. They boarded the train, but Silbermann could no longer tell which compartment he had been sitting in. So they made their way through all the second-class smoking compartments, with no result.

The conductor asked about the other passengers, and Silbermann described them as best he could. “The man with the blond mustache,” Silbermann answered. “He did strike me as a little suspect, but perhaps I’m only imagining that after the fact. There were two men, one with a blond mustache, like I told you.”

“And the lady? You didn’t ask the lady?”

“Ach!” said Silbermann, unhappy. “I didn’t even think of that. And she might have been able to give me an exact description.”

“I’m sure she would have,” the conductor agreed. “You should have asked her.”

“But I can describe her. She was wearing a gray skirt suit…”

The conductor looked at the clock.

“Go to the railway police and the lost-and-found bureau,” he suggested. “As you see, I’ve done what I could. There’s nothing more I can do. If you’d like, I can have someone show you the way to the police.”