So he was calmer, if not entirely reassured, when he dialed the number of one of his wife’s good friends, thinking she might have gone there. And even when Fräulein Gersch informed him that she hadn’t seen his wife in weeks, he wasn’t too distraught, because this did not disprove his theory. Fräulein Gersch, he now learned, had had a falling out with his wife. But she did offer to go to the apartment right away to keep Elfriede company, if she was at home. Fräulein Gersch was probably even glad to have an excuse. She also assured Silbermann that as far as she knew, women had in no way been harmed in the events of the day.

Silbermann asked Fräulein Gersch for the names and telephone numbers of his wife’s other friends, so that he could call them as well. For his part, he had always been much too caught up in his business dealings to know who his wife’s current bridge partners were.

As it turned out, Fräulein Gersch didn’t know all of his wife’s friends, either, so after he had dialed the given numbers with no result, he still believed it was possible she was staying with a different acquaintance.

To distract himself from worries about his wife, he asked to be put through to Hamburg. After just a few minutes he was connected to the Vier Jahreszeiten hotel, where Becker, who had put on certain airs of late, was newly accustomed to staying. Silbermann had to wait on the phone for a long time, and he was annoyed that he hadn’t booked a person-to-person call, because even now he was still opposed to unnecessary spending. Finally he was told that Herr Becker was not in.

He’s out gambling, Silbermann concluded, appalled. At this very moment he’s gambling away my money, my chance to survive. Silbermann left the restaurant and went back to his hotel.

I should have gotten hold of a suitcase somewhere, he thought as he entered. This is making a horrible impression. Hopefully they’ll think I’m some husband whose wife has kicked him out. That’s an acceptable kind of misfortune—one that isn’t considered a crime.

Should I even sign the registry with my real name? Silbermann wondered. If there’s an inspection they’ll haul me in right away, but if I give a false name I’d be breaking the law. It’s terrible. The state is practically forcing a person to commit an offense.

This time they didn’t give him the registration form but simply handed him his room key and let him know that a Herr Stein was waiting for him in the vestibule. Stein really could show me a little more consideration, Silbermann thought, and was immediately ashamed of his reaction.

“Good news?” asked Stein, who was sitting with another gentleman with similarly Jewish features.

“None at all.”

“No news is good news. But why don’t you sit down?”

“I’m pretty worn out from all the commotion. All I really want to do is go to bed and sleep.”