“We’ll no longer be needing any delivery,” he interrupted. “But you can give me that bottle there.”

“Shall I go ahead and put the thirty-four pfennig for it on your next bill?” she asked. “Then again, if you’re not going to be having me…”

“Thirty-four pfennig,” he said—“that’s a lot of money.”

“Milk costs the same everywhere,” she responded. She sounded bitter, presumably aggrieved at the perceived challenge to her integrity.

Silbermann was alarmed and said, “I don’t doubt that in the least.”

Then he paid, closed the door, and took the milk bottle to his bedroom. The milk lady is deeply offended because she assumes that I think her milk is overpriced by one penny—and that’s something she won’t put up with. Whereas I … I …

He opened the bottle and took a big swallow.

Now I’d like to have a coffee, he thought as he wiped his mouth and headed to the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and mindlessly watched it fill the tub. Then he undressed and took a bath.

I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed this, he thought, stretching out contentedly in the water. He stayed in the bath for half an hour, then shaved and slowly got dressed. No sooner had he tied his tie than he heard the doorbell ring again, this time in back.

I suppose that’s the bread delivery bill, he thought, almost amused at the idea.

It was the bread delivery bill. He paid and a few minutes later he left his apartment and went to the pastry shop across the street. He drank his coffee and took his time eating breakfast.

When he was finished he decided to do what he couldn’t bring himself to undertake the previous evening. Outwardly he was completely calm when he stepped into the police station.

“I want to file a report,” he explained, without returning the official’s “Heil Hitler.” He stood right at the barrier rail and propped himself up with both hands.

“What’s it about?” asked a disapproving official voice.

“I was robbed.”

“That’s not my jurisdiction. I only handle residence registrations.”

Silbermann waited a moment, then said, “Nevertheless, you might take it upon yourself to advise me who is in charge of that jurisdiction?”

The official bristled. He was familiar with that tone. He studied Silbermann, presumably wondering whether the latter was in a position to get away with such high-handedness. But he evidently accepted it, and then said in a significantly more polite manner, “Room 3 if you please.”

“And where may I find Room 3?” asked Silbermann.

The official stood up, stepped to the barrier, pointed to a door, and said, “The first door there in the hall.”

Silbermann thanked him and a moment later was standing in front of Room 3.

He knocked.

“Come in,” said a gruff voice.