Silbermann quickly retracted his hand. His felt his face turn red and was ashamed of his shame.

“Herr Silbermann,” Rose said as quietly and politely as could be expected from a man who had spent his whole life in the hotel business, no matter what the situation. “This is extraordinarily embarrassing for me. You are an old and dear guest of the hotel. But … you understand? It isn’t my fault, and things surely won’t stay this way, but…”

“What’s going on?” asked Silbermann, who knew very well where Rose was heading but had no intention of letting him off the hook. Instead he felt he needed to hear a candid admission of what Silbermann saw as a lack of character. And the other man’s embarrassment almost did him good, or at least helped him get past his own.

“So you wish to throw me out?” he finally asked, his voice dry, and looked at the hotel manager.

“Please don’t put it that way,” Herr Rose implored, straining to cope with the demands of the situation—the snubbing of a valued client with impeccable credit. “We were always very happy,” he continued, hastily, “to have you here so often as our guest, and if in the present moment we are obliged to ask you, it is very much against our will, and we hope…”

“It’s all right, Rose.” Silbermann cut him off, realizing that the man’s meek manner made him feel better than he wanted to admit. “I understand.”

Silbermann brushed off any further explanation with a wave of his right hand, nodded to the manager, who bowed slightly in return, and left the reading room. He passed through the lobby and paused as if he wanted to say something to the concierge, who now also made a slight bow, but then went on his way. When he reached the revolving door that led outside, he stopped once again.

Where can I possibly go? he wondered. The Jewish guesthouses have undoubtedly been ransacked by the SA. And the small hotels are absolutely unsafe: many of them are storm trooper hangouts or the like. Should I simply find some flophouse and stay there? Those should still be open to us. But are they really? Even those aren’t worth the risk, because if I show up at one by myself and ask for a room, I’ll look suspicious. And whatever I do, I can’t let that happen.

Nevertheless he decided to look up a small hotel he had sometimes used to host business friends from out of town, and after waiting awhile in vain for a streetcar, he decided to take a cab. When he pulled up to the hotel, he noticed a storm trooper standing by the entrance, but after a moment’s hesitation Silbermann stepped calmly past him and entered the small lobby.

“I’d like a room,” he told the waiter who was coming to meet him.

“Shall we have your luggage brought from the station?”