When Mechenmal had mailed the letter he became restless.  He was afraid that he had handled things carelessly.

Kohn came back immediately.  He went to Ilka Leipke.  Showed her the letter.  Howling, he asked whether she had forgotten the night with him.  She said:  “yes.”  He moaned.  He wept unintelligibly about soul and suicide.  Ilka Leipke showed him out.  His weakness was annoying to her; even as a child she could not watch anyone cry.

But she was angry at Mechenmal.  She began to tease him about Kohn.  She claimed that Kohn had often been her guest; and she always found him to be nice.  Mechenmal considered her stories to be true.  Now he hated Kohn.

He considered how to get of the hunch-back, without being known as the one who got rid of him.  It did not take him long to come up with a plan.  Kohn died on a Sunday, suddenly, but without strange circumstances.  His body was released for burial without any difficulty.  In the newspaper “The Other A” Theo Tontod provided a short obituary.  And the Club Clou sent a wreath.  Ilka Leipke had herself taken to observe the body before the burial.  The coffin was opened quickly.  In it Kohn lay somewhat askew, because of the hump.  The features of his face were distorted in a grimace.  His hands were rolled up lumps.  Dried blood stuck to his nose and hung over his opened mouth.  Ilka Leipke overcame her disgust.  She had gasoline brought, took a little silk scarf out of her dainty handbag and dipped it in the the gasoline container.  She cleaned the dead nose with the little scarf.  Then she left.  Calm and weeping.  Content with her goodness.

When Mechenmal heard of Kohn’s death, he was very frightened.  He could not bear his room.  He left the house quickly, not without first having lit a cigarette.  Church bells were ringing from the sunny sky.  Mechenmal was cold and pale.  He kept thinking:  if only it doesn’t come out.  Or he considered where he might run away.  He thought of the trial, of the defense, of prison, chains, letters written to the outside world, the hangman.  That he would, as his last wish, be allowed to sleep with Ilka Leipke one more time.  He moved through the streets like someone trying to catch up to someone.  When it occurred to him that he should not call attention to himself, he suddenly began to walk too slowly.  It seemed to him that all the people were watching him.

In a garden two girls, perhaps fifteen years old, were wrestling.  When they saw Mechenmal, they quickly sat down on a bench, letting him come nearer.  When he was close enough, they laughed at him; one of them wiggled her legs.  He hurried away.  Behind him one of them cried out:  “See how quickly the man moves.”  And the other cried out just as foolishly :  “Yes, he’s smoking.”  They watched him go, then they went back to wrestling with each other.