“I’d take you farther, to Lambert’s—that’s a friend of mine who runs an inn, but I have to beat it back to the car. Just keep going straight ahead until you come to the field I told you about, and then march directly across. Be sure to make as little noise as possible. After that you’ll come to a little forest. Cross through that, and then you’ll be in the village. The fourth house is Lambert’s inn. Go inside but of course leave your suitcase in the woods. I’m assuming you’re not dumb enough to walk into the village carrying a suitcase? So, tell Lambert that Franz sends his greetings, and he’ll help you. He’ll definitely want to make some money, but he’ll take you farther. His stepson has a car. You speak French, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” said Silbermann.

“Of course—exactly like the lot of you! So, then, good-bye.”

“Wait, I still want to give you the money.”

“I’ll take money for risking my boss’s car, but not for risking my neck!”

“But…”

Franz had already turned around, and for a few minutes Silbermann watched his haggard, bony figure as it disappeared into the darkness. Then he picked up his suitcase. “I’m lucky after all,” he mumbled.

A light rain began to fall. The drops splashed against Silbermann’s face. He hurried ahead as fast as the suitcase allowed. He still felt some of the security that being close to Franz had provided.

It’s going to work out, he hoped. If only I’d left this crazy suitcase at home. He thought about leaving it in the woods, but opening it and unpacking the money seemed too dangerous. I’ve lugged it this far, so I’ll go on lugging it some more, he thought, when he had to set it down again. Otherwise the whole slog would have been for nothing.

He felt so exhausted that he had to rest for a moment.

I wonder if Franz is going to get into trouble, he asked himself. I don’t even know his last name. I’ll never be able to thank him. But what a stroke of luck. Actually I have that fat police spy to thank for meeting him.

Belgium, he then thought. I’m now in Belgium. And it doesn’t look any different. I ought to be mad with joy but instead I’m afraid. And it’s the same fear I had five minutes ago when I was still in Germany. If only I …

He thought he heard a noise and strained to listen. Weren’t those twigs snapping somewhere? He jumped up, lifted his suitcase, and looked around, wide-eyed.

“No,” he whispered, “no, no, no! It’s over. I quit! I’m staying right here! I’m staying here even if they…”

But there was no noise—he’d been mistaken. The rain dripped down on him and calmed him somewhat. He picked up his suitcase and set off again. The blister on his index finger had burst from carrying the suitcase, and the pain refused to let up. He switched the suitcase to the other hand.