It would have been smarter to come here together with that little Lilienfeld, he thought.

The door opened.

“Does Herr Dinkelberg live here?” he asked the old lady who opened the door.

She shook her head.

“He used to live here!” she said. “Yesterday he was arrested.” She scrutinized him as if she thought he were an accomplice.

Silbermann felt very uneasy.

“Ahh,” he said, “well, well! Arrested! Who would have thought?”

Silbermann was distraught. How should I behave in a case like this? he wondered. I might end up making myself look suspicious.

“I knew something was going on,” said the old lady. “It couldn’t end well the way he carried on. Every day taking a different woman up to his den, and all that drinking. Four officials were here, four of them! I always wondered where the man got his money, because he doesn’t have a job. Such a young man. He was probably stealing!”

“You don’t know why he was arrested?” asked Silbermann, and thought: a young man, I had imagined someone around fifty, how strange.

She eyed him distrustfully. “How should I know that? Go to the police and ask there!” She slammed the door.

Embarrassed, Silbermann doffed his hat and then hastened away, turned three or four corners, and finally stopped. And for this I came to Dortmund, he thought. It seems that everything is jinxed. No sooner is there a bit of hope, and … I wonder what happened to Lilienfeld? The poor man must be desperate. Now he’s no better off than I am.

Silbermann felt dizzy and sensed a slight buzzing in his ears. I’ve been walking too fast, he thought. I need to catch my breath.

He went into a restaurant, sat down at a table, ordered something to eat, and, succumbing to a mad hope, placed another call to Paris. Perhaps there’s been some development in the meantime, he told himself.

When the soup arrived he literally dove into it, but after a few spoonfuls he felt he couldn’t get any more down. He lit a cigarette, then let it go out in the ashtray and forced himself to finish eating.

When the waiter informed him that the call to Paris had gone through, he jumped up and hurried to the telephone, rubbing his hands and busily wrinkling his forehead.

I’ll call him three times every day if I have to, he decided. Once he has as little rest as I’m getting, he’ll start really making an effort. It’s a well-known fact that people who live in times of peace have no idea about war. I’ll see he gets moving!

“Hello,” he called out. “What’s new?”

“How could anything have happened since we last talked? It’s only been a few hours! Although I did just speak with someone who’s very influential, who said he would sponsor your application, and I went back to the ministry of foreign affairs, but we have to be patient. You have to bear in mind that they’re dealing with thousands of applications. Everyone else has to wait as well. There’s simply nothing more that can be done.”