He now wondered why he’d expected anything from the phone call. If at least I’d given Eduard a little push, he thought, but then I had to go and burn my finger. How could I have possibly imagined he would have taken care of things? I should have just let myself get arrested like all the others. Life is probably calmer in jail than it is outside. At least you can get some decent sleep. But living like this means constantly tensing up and then collapsing, you run this way and that without getting a single step ahead.

He stood up and left the post office, found a newsstand, and bought four different newspapers. Then he walked to a small pub, ordered a glass of beer, and went to the toilet. There he unfolded the papers, took four thousand-mark bills out of his briefcase, and placed one inside each of the papers. Then he carefully folded them back together, put them in his briefcase, and returned to his seat. He called the waiter, paid for his beer, and went to a stationery shop, where he purchased some tape and packaged up the papers for mailing. He then addressed them to Eduard’s landlord, returned to the post office, and mailed the parcels at the counter.

He had wanted to get at least some money out of the country and had concocted this scheme during his conversation with his son, and now that he had carried it out with great care and cunning, he hurried from the post office back to the train station. He decided to go to Dortmund and try his luck there with Dinkelberg, the human smuggler Lilienfeld had mentioned. This time he bought a second-class ticket, thinking he would be safer and less conspicuous there, because he was now practically obsessed with the thought that he might stand out. He also tried to identify which expressions and gestures were the most inconspicuous and innocent-looking, since he felt his inner unrest was somehow showing.

His train left just minutes after he bought the ticket. A few officers were sitting in the same compartment. Silbermann didn’t pay any attention to them and didn’t listen to their conversation, and very quickly dozed off. But every time the train stopped he would give a start, ask for the name of the station, and go back to sleep.

Ultimately the captain sitting next to him asked, “Where are you headed?”

“Dortmund,” said Silbermann.

“Then go ahead and get some sleep. We’ll wake you up once we’re there.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Silbermann said by way of thanks.

Very kind, he thought, as he fell asleep.

When they woke him he cried out, clearly distressed: “My briefcase! Where is my briefcase?”

The men laughed.

“It’s right next to you,” said the captain, a well-nourished, contented-looking man. “You must be lugging around your entire fortune, eh?”

“Not at all,” Silbermann replied hastily. “Just some papers. But important ones.”

“The sleeping secret courier,” a lieutenant joked.