“They’re all right,” said the man, and looked out the window.

“I was guessing that you’re the head of a firm…”

The man gave Silbermann an anxious look. “What made you guess that?” he asked.

“Well, I thought that since you were traveling first class. Not many agents can afford that. You must do very well.”

I’m behaving like a perfect inquisitor, Silbermann thought. And how easily the situation could be reversed. But now he felt that he was the stronger person, and he was resolved to be merciless in his quest for information.

“I usually travel second class,” the man answered, as though he had to explain himself. “But they told me there were no seats available in second class. That’s why I’m traveling first class.”

This is exactly how people get trapped in lies, Silbermann thought to himself. If the man had any imagination he surely wouldn’t try to make me believe something as ridiculous as that. There are more open seats in second class than anyone could ask for. And why did he even answer my question? Why is he lying? Why is he taking something that requires no justification whatsoever and offering up an improbable explanation? He isn’t a crook, he’s far too clumsy for that. Only people who are used to speaking the truth give themselves away like that when they’re forced to lie. A Jewish tradesman, of course, my first impression was right!

Silbermann fixed his gaze on the man and quietly asked, “Are you Jewish?”

“What makes you think that?” the other asked back, distraught, and it was clear how much he wanted to get up and escape the interrogation. But he probably lacked the courage to do so.

“So, I take it you are Jewish! Do you know where you want to go? Do you have a particular destination in mind?”

For a moment, the other man was silent, then he again asked, “What leads you to think that I’m a Jew? Do I look like one?”

“Not necessarily,” said Silbermann, who was now fully confident and secretly proud of his psychological prowess. He was so convinced of the validity of his premise that he returned to his sleeping position.

The other man seemed emboldened by this movement, which was clearly not directed against him. “They stormed my store,” he began whispering. Then he jumped up and shut the door, even though the corridor was empty. “I had a cabinetmaking shop.” He resumed his report, then stopped and asked, “But please tell me what led you to believe I’m Jewish? You aren’t Jewish yourself?” The return question was inevitable, and his voice betrayed hope as well as fear.

“I had the impression you were agitated,” said Silbermann.

“Are you an Aryan?” the other asked, rephrasing the question. Silbermann’s lack of response to his first question had probably led the man to conclude that he was dealing with a comrade in misfortune.

“I’m also Jewish,” Silbermann declared.

“Thank God,” the other man said, relieved.