You know where he is?
He should disappear.
Tell him the business with Gottfried's settled.
I knew before you.
There you see it.
Fired, but I hit his hand down.
Then I fired.
Where is Otto?"
"Somewhere around Monkestrasse."
"Thank God for that.
He left there long ago.
But get Otto out of the way all the same."
I went to the telephone and rang up the taxi stand where Gustav usually hung out.
He was there.
"Gustav," said I, "can you come to the corner of Wiesenstrasse and Bellevueplatz?
Quickly?
I'm waiting there."
"Right. Be there in ten minutes."
I put up the receiver and went back to Alfons.
He was putting on another pair of trousers.
"Didn't know you were on the lookout too," said he.
His face was still damp. "Would have been better if you had sat in somewhere.
For the sake of the alibi.
Maybe they will be asking after you.
You never know."
"What about yourself?" said I.
"Ach, what d'you think." He was talking quicker than usual. "Had him by himself.
Waited for him in his room.
Up in an attic.
No neighbours.
Besides, self-defence.
He shot the moment he came in.
Don't need an alibi.
Could have a dozen, if I want."
He looked at me. He sat on the chair, his damp, broad face turned toward me, his sweaty hair, his big mouth drawn awry, and his eyes were almost unendurable, so much torment, suffering and love lay suddenly exposed and hopeless in them.
"Now Gottfried will rest," said he softly, and hoarsely. "Had the feeling he didn't rest before."
I stood mutely in front of him.
"Go now," said he.
I walked out through the barroom.
The girl was still sleeping, and breathing loudly.
Outside the moon had risen high and it was very bright.
I went to the Bellevueplatz.
The windows of the houses gleamed in the moonlight like silver mirrors.
The wind had dropped.
It was perfectly still.
Gustav arrived a few minutes later.
"What's up, Robert?"
"Our car was stolen this evening.
I've just heard it's been seen around the Monkestrasse.
Can we drive over?"