Bahnpolizei—railway police, he thought, startled. They’re going to search the train for Jews. Silbermann couldn’t remember ever having been so nervous. And it was hardly an unfamiliar sight: after all, how many SS and SA men had he encountered every day without really thinking anything of it? But now he sensed that every uniform was out to get him, and whenever he caught sight of a party member he felt: “That man is my sworn mortal enemy,” and “He has complete power over me.” He had reacted the same just after the Nazi “takeover”—but now it was even worse.

Silbermann resumed his pacing. When he was twenty meters away from the SS man he again turned in his direction. Am I really more anxious than other people? he asked himself. How would an SS man feel if he were forced to move about inside a Bolshevik state? And what if he had some additional marking, some feature that made him stick out like poor Fritz Stein?

These thoughts allowed him to feel his fear was justified. It was also comforting to imagine his enemies encountering their own day of dread, and Silbermann, who had always viewed the party of expropriation with disapproval and disgust, now found himself almost sympathizing with it, as his possible avenger. The idea was tremendously satisfying, and he clung to it for some time.

From a safe distance, Silbermann darted a glance at the unsuspecting man in uniform, as though to say: just wait, this is a long way from being over.

The train pulled into the station hall, and Silbermann, who had positioned himself in front of the sign marked 2ND CLASS, got rid of the gum he had been faithfully chewing the entire time—which suddenly struck him as very silly. Then he boarded the train. He entered a smoking compartment, took a forward-facing seat by the window, and looked out at the platform, which was still quite empty. He yawned, checked his watch, and determined that it would be quite a while before the train departed. The idea of waiting was hardly a pleasant one, since he didn’t think he would recover his inner peace until the train was moving.

In any case I’m looking forward to speaking with Becker, he thought. He felt a growing desire for that man’s company—although more as his business partner than for the person himself.

Hopefully he’ll still be awake, Silbermann thought, but even if he’s already in bed it doesn’t matter. I’ll simply wake him. I absolutely have to speak with him today. How come he didn’t warn me? Usually he always knows everything in advance.

Suddenly Silbermann had a horrifying suspicion.

Becker had known. And it suited him this way. Now he has me at his mercy. He can rob me of my entire fortune in one fell swoop. The truth is I never fully trusted him. Maybe he’s just as much a scoundrel as Findler! Here he’s already pocketing half the revenue, but that’s not enough for him. He wants the capital. He’s already hinted at that. What did he say recently? “I need something to build on, Otto. When I think about it, I realize I don’t have anything at all that I can build on.”