“Make what?”

“I mean, if I’ll make it over the border. If I won’t get caught. I could just as easily run right into the guards on the other side and get sent back. In which case I’d do myself in.”

“Man!” said Silbermann with feigned jauntiness. “Stop all that shilly-shallying! And don’t even think such crazy thoughts. If it doesn’t work out the first time, then it will the second. I don’t understand you!”

“Aren’t you at all afraid?” Lilienfeld defended himself.

“I am. Of course. But I refuse to give in to my fear!” said Silbermann, nice and firmly.

FIVE

Inside the post office, Silbermann paced uneasily back and forth, waiting to be told the telephone call he had requested was being put through. So as not to arouse suspicion, he went out of his way to look relaxed and cheerful.

He’d arrived in Aachen an hour earlier and left his suitcase at the baggage check, while holding on to his valuable briefcase, which he was now carrying under his arm. After Silbermann had seen Lilienfeld off in Dortmund, accompanied by his strongest words of encouragement, he’d had time to write a long, detailed letter to his wife as well as another one to his sister that communicated only what was most essential. He’d also sent Elfriede a reassuring telegram.

If nothing else, I’ve put my affairs in some degree of order, he thought as he paced. He found it was pleasant and calming at least to have addressed things in writing, even if none of his problems had actually been solved.

But after he’d waited ten minutes and his call still hadn’t gone through, he gradually began to have misgivings. He wondered if his son might not be in, or whether a new regulation had been passed concerning long-distance calls, perhaps requiring the police to be notified whenever a number was requested for abroad. What if they stop me and ask me for the purpose of the call? Maybe they’ll search me, too, and find the money. Especially in a border town they’d think I was up to something. What do you need these forty thousand marks for? they’ll ask, and next they’ll confiscate my money and haul me off to the concentration camp!

He was annoyed by these fearful thoughts, which he blamed on Lilienfeld. To ease his nerves he started humming to himself.

The clerk waved him over. That was very nice of him. After all, even though Silbermann was standing just across from the counter, the man could have conspicuously called out “Connection to Paris!” and many eyes would have turned in his direction.

Silbermann stepped inside the booth, stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and was about to light it when he remembered that he’d have to open the door during the call to let out the smoke. The burning match singed his finger before he managed to toss it away.

“Hello,” Eduard answered. “Father?”

“Yes, good morning. How are you? I just burned my finger on a match.”