“Why, Professor,” said he, “I have seen you more excited on the morning
when you brought back _Lepidus Mercerensis_ in your collecting-box.”

“The fly was safe in my collecting-box first,” the entomologist
answered. “I have seen so many strange turns of Fate in my long life
that I do not grieve nor do I rejoice until I know that I have cause. But tell me the news.”

“Well,” said the Colonel, lighting his long pipe, and stretching his
gaitered legs in the bamboo chair, “I’ll stake my military reputation
that all is well. They are advancing swiftly, the firing has died down
to show that resistance is at an end, and within an hour we’ll see them
over the brow. Ainslie is to fire his gun three times from the church
tower as a signal, and then we shall make a little sally on our own
account.”

“And you are waiting for this signal?”

“Yes, we are waiting for Ainslie’s shots. I thought I would spend the
time with you, for I had something to ask you.”

“What was it?”

“Well, you remember your talk about the other siege—the siege of
Sung-tong. It interests me very much from a professional point of view. Now that the ladies and civilians are gone you will have no objection to
discussing it.”

“It is not a pleasant subject.”

“No, I dare say not. Mein Gott! it was indeed a tragedy. But you have
seen how I have conducted the defence here. Was it wise? Was it good? Was it worthy of the traditions of the German army?”

“I think you could have done no more.”

“Thank you. But this other place, was it as ably defended? To me a
comparison of this sort is very interesting. Could it have been saved?”

“No; everything possible was done—save only one thing.”

“Ah! there was one omission. What was it?”

“No one—above all, no woman—should have been allowed to fall alive into
the hands of the Chinese.”

The Colonel held out his broad red hand and enfolded the long, white,
nervous fingers of the Professor. “You are right—a thousand times right. But do not think that this has
escaped my thoughts. For myself I would die fighting, so would Ralston,
so would Ainslie. I have talked to them, and it is settled. But the
others, I have spoken with them, but what are you to do? There are the
priest, and the missionary, and the women.”

“Would they wish to be taken alive?”

“They would not promise to take steps to prevent it. They would not lay
hands on their own lives. Their consciences would not permit it. Of
course, it is all over now, and we need not speak of such dreadful
things. But what would you have done in my place?”

“Kill them.”

“Mein Gott! You would murder them?”

“In mercy I would kill them. Man, I have been through it. I have seen
the death of the hot eggs; I have seen the death of the boiling kettle;
I have seen the women—my God! I wonder that I have ever slept sound
again.” His usually impassive face was working and quivering with the
agony of the remembrance. “I was strapped to a stake with thorns in my
eyelids to keep them open, and my grief at their torture was a less
thing than my self-reproach when I thought that I could with one tube of
tasteless tablets have snatched them at the last instant from the hands
of their tormentors. Murder! I am ready to stand at the Divine bar and
answer for a thousand murders such as that! Sin! Why, it is such an act
as might well cleanse the stain of real sin from the soul. But if,
knowing what I do, I should have failed this second time to do it, then,
by Heaven! there is no hell deep enough or hot enough to receive my
guilty craven spirit.”

The Colonel rose, and again his hand clasped that of the Professor. “You speak sense,” said he. “You are a brave, strong man, who know your
own mind. Yes, by the Lord! you would have been my great help had things
gone the other way. I have often thought and wondered in the dark, early
hours of the morning, but I did not know how to do it. But we should
have heard Ainslie’s shots before now; I will go and see.”

Again the old scientist sat alone with his thoughts. Finally, as neither
the guns of the relieving force nor yet the signal of their approach
sounded upon his ears, he rose, and was about to go himself upon the
ramparts to make inquiry when the door flew open, and Colonel Dresler
staggered into the room. His face was of a ghastly yellow-white, and his
chest heaved like that of a man exhausted with running. There was brandy
on the side-table, and he gulped down a glassful. Then he dropped
heavily into a chair. “Well,” said the Professor, coldly, “they are not coming?”

“No, they cannot come.”

There was silence for a minute or more, the two men staring blankly at
each other. “Do they all know?”

“No one knows but me.”

“How did you learn?”

“I was at the wall near the postern gate—the little wooden gate that
opens on the rose garden. I saw something crawling among the bushes. There was a knocking at the door. I opened it. It was a Christian
Tartar, badly cut about with swords. He had come from the battle. Commodore Wyndham, the Englishman, had sent him. The relieving force had
been checked. They had shot away most of their ammunition. They had
entrenched themselves and sent back to the ships for more. Three days
must pass before they could come. That was all. Mein Gott! it was
enough.”

The Professor bent his shaggy grey brows. “Where is the man?” he asked. “He is dead. He died of loss of blood. His body lies at the postern
gate.”

“And no one saw him?”

“Not to speak to.”

“Oh! they did see him, then?”

“Ainslie must have seen him from the church tower. He must know that I
have had tidings. He will want to know what they are. If I tell him they
must all know.”

“How long can we hold out?”

“An hour or two at the most.”

“Is that absolutely certain?”

“I pledge my credit as a soldier upon it.”

“Then we must fall?”

“Yes, we must fall.”

“There is no hope for us?”

“None.”

The door flew open and young Ainslie rushed in. Behind him crowded
Ralston, Patterson, and a crowd of white men and of native Christians. “You’ve had news, Colonel?”

Professor Mercer pushed to the front. “Colonel Dresler has just been telling me. It is all right. They have
halted, but will be here in the early morning. There is no longer any
danger.”

A cheer broke from the group in the doorway. Everyone was laughing and
shaking hands. “But suppose they rush us before to-morrow morning?” cried Ralston, in a
petulant voice. “What infernal fools these fellows are not to push on! Lazy devils, they should be court-martialled, every man of them.”

“It’s all safe,” said Ainslie. “These fellows have had a bad knock. We
can see their wounded being carried by the hundred over the hill. They
must have lost heavily. They won’t attack before morning.”

“No, no,” said the Colonel; “it is certain that they won’t attack before
morning. None the less, get back to your posts. We must give no point
away.” He left the room with the rest, but as he did so he looked back,
and his eyes for an instant met those of the old Professor.