Capitals, and withal, was a very ugly sign. What did K---- do--go home
and invite some one to write a despatch for him to his government
deprecating the growth of the Boxer movement, and the impossibility
of carrying out conciliatory instructions, as some of his colleagues,
including my own chief, would have done? Not a bit of it! He tilted
full at the man with his walking stick, and before he could escape had
beaten a regular roll of kettledrums on his hide. Then the Boxer,
after a short struggle, abandoned his knife, and ran with some
fleetness of foot into a neighbouring lane. The gallant German
Minister raised the hue and cry, and then discovered yet another Boxer
inside the cart, whom he duly secured by falling on top of him; and
this last one was handed over to his own Legation Guards. The fugitive
was followed into Prince Su's grounds, which run right through the
Legation area, and there cornered in a house. The mysterious Dr. M----
then suddenly appeared on the scenes and insisted upon searching the
Manchu Prince's entire grounds and most private apartments. But time
was wasted in _pourparlers_, and in spite of a minute inspection,
which extended even to the concubine apartments, the Boxer vanished in
some mysterious way like a breath, and is even now untraced. This
shows us conclusively that there are accomplices right in our midst.

No sooner had this incident occurred and been bandied round with
sundry exaggerations, than the life of the Legations and the
nondescripts who have been coming in from the country became more
abnormal than ever. For in spite of our extraordinary position, even
up to to-day we were attempting to work--that is, writing three lines
of a despatch, and then rushing madly out to hear the latest news. Now
not so much as one word is written, and our eleven Legations are
openly terribly perturbed in body and mind and conscious of their
intense impotence, although we have all the so-called resources of