Meanwhile the outriders had reached the German Legation and had flung
themselves, disordered, from their sweating ponies. The men of the
Legation Guard were swarming round them and questioning them roughly
when I came up, but there was nothing further to be learned about Von
K----. A shot had passed through his chair and he had never moved
again, while other shots struck all round. C----, the dragonman,
dripping with blood, had run round a corner closely pursued by Chinese
riflemen. What happened to him they cannot say, for they, too, would
have been shot had they not fled. The tragedy was so simple, but so
crushing, that we all stood dazed. Our one man of character and
decision was dead--lost beyond recall!

A quarter of an hour after this half the German detachment was
marching rapidly down Customs Street, with fixed bayonets and an air
of desperation on their harsh Teutonic faces. They were determined to
try and at least save the body. I thought of going with them, too, but
a moment's thought told me there were other things which were now more
pressing. I went and gave some attention to the contents of
despatch-boxes which no one else had a right to see....

The detachment reached the scene of the murder led by a trembling
outrider. Drops of blood were found on the ground; the Peking dust was
scraped this way and that, as if it had only been made an accomplice
unwillingly and with a violent struggle too; but the sedan-chairs, the
bearers, the murderous soldiers, and every other trace had vanished
completely. To question people was impossible, since everyone was
keeping closely indoors and barred entrances everywhere met the eye.
The Peking streets have become so lonely and deserted that not even a
dog allows himself to be entrapped in the open. Later I heard that