The Sonderberg Case by Elie Wiesel

she’ll come to accept them.
    To tell the truth, for the first time in years, I feel good in my new position. Thanks to the trial, for the last few days my name has been on the front page. People talk about me. They’re interested in my opinion. Colleagues, both unfamiliar and familiar, acknowledge me as one of them. Suddenly I’ve become—for how long?—a “member of the brotherhood,” a key player. Has the newspaper taken the place of my wife in my life?
    Back in the courtroom. Jury and lawyers, prosecutor and witnesses: the entire dramatis personae are present. Elisabeth Whitecomb, the receptionist in the Mountain Hotel, a chubby but pretty woman, clearly glad to be the center of attention for so many onlookers, describes her brief contacts with the defendant in a prudent and solemn tone of voice. He was wearing a dark gray suit. He seemed more like a young teacher than a student. He looked intelligent, calm. Not very talkative, but courteous.
    The prosecutor: “He was alone when you saw him?”
    Elisabeth Whitecomb bites her lips in order to better concentrate. “Not at the beginning of his stay. He was with an older man. Someone who looked like a senior official or an industrialist. Wealthy, you could see that from his suit. It was Hans Dunkelman. His uncle. Polite, mannered.”
    “How did you know he was the defendant’s uncle?”
    “The defendant told me.”
    “How did it come up?”
    “He requested two rooms. One for himself, one for his uncle.”
    “What did you think of him?”
    “He made a good impression on me. Friendly. Cultured. Good manners.”
    “And the uncle?”
    “Impatient. Withdrawn. He let his nephew do the talking. He kept his mouth shut.”
    “You showed them their rooms?”
    “Only the uncle’s. The nephew wanted to be sure he liked it. For his own, he just took the keys.”
    “When did they arrive?”
    “I told the inspectors: May twenty-eighth.”
    “In the morning or in the afternoon?”
    “In the early afternoon. They were hungry. I told them to hurry because the restaurant would be closing.”
    “Did they go there?”
    “Not right away. They went to freshen up first.”
    “Did they come downstairs together?”
    “No. The nephew … excuse me, the defendant came downstairs in about five minutes, his uncle a bit later.”
    “Did you chat with the defendant?”
    “Yes.”
    “What about?”
    “About the weather, of course. That’s the subject that all our guests are interested in. Without exception.”
    “Did you ask him where he was from?”
    “I already knew. From New York. Manhattan.”
    “How did you know?”
    “I read his form, of course!”
    “And his uncle’s, too?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did it say?”
    “That he lived in Germany.”
    Methodically, the prosecutor guides his witness to the conclusions he wants to reach.
    “For how long had they intended to stay at the hotel?”
    “The room was booked for a week. That’s our rule. You can’t book for shorter stays.”
    “And how long did they stay? The entire week?”
    “No. Only three days.”
    “And then?”
    “Then what?”
    “When did you see them for the last time?”
    “Together? On the thirty-first. In the morning. They went for a walk in the mountains. I told them to be careful. There are dangerous spots. You can slip and fall into the ravine.”
    “How did they respond?”
    “The nephew … excuse me, the defendant thanked me.”
    “And then?”
    “They probably didn’t take my advice. Next thing you know, the uncle is dead.”
    “Could you please repeat what you just said?”
    “All of it?”
    “Just the last sentence, concerning the defendant.”
    “Well, the uncle is dead.”
    “Murdered.”
    “Yes, murdered.”
    “How do you know?”
    “It’s what you just said.”
    “Did you see the defendant again?”
    “Yes.”
    “When?”
    “On the same day. A few hours later. He came to get his luggage.”
    “You must have been surprised.”
    “At the time I thought his