of a role, or about some little event. At the moment Kohn arrived,
about to ask what the girl wanted, Gottschalk burst in, stood before
him with a red, swollen face, and called him an unscrupulous seducer
of young girls. Kohn tried to reach up and slap Schulz' face. Then
each hit the other, furious and silent. The sign for the
lavoratory-attendant, which had previously read, "My institute is
here, entrance there," lay shattered on the ground. Suddenly Schulz'
hand violently struck Kohn's hump. The hand had a bloody wound, and
the hump was injured. Pale as a corpse, Schulz cried out: "The hump
is critically wounded." Then he had himself taken by a waiter to a
first aid station. He ignored Lisel Liblichlein entirely.

Kohn did not pay much attention to his injured hump. He sat down
again at the table with Lisel Liblichlein, and ordered tea with lemon.
She saw how ever more clearly blood was oozing through his
threadbare jacket.She called his attention to the bloody jacket; he
became frightened. She asked if she should bind the wound--He said
bitterly, to touch a hump would not be pleasant for her. She said,
blushing sympathetically, that a hump was human. She said that he
could come to her place. The hump must be cleaned and cooled. Then
she would apply a dressing. He could spend the afternoon at her
place...

Happily and hesitantly Kohn agreed to her suggestion. They sat into
the night in Lisel Liblichlein's little room. They talked about
souls, humps, love.-From that day on the writer Schulz was missing.
An acquaintance had last seen him in the evening, in front of the
display window of a shoe store. "Hot Heroes"--a journal for romantic
decadence--received a special-delivery letter, in which Schulz
reported that, for pyschological