Such a scene,
and the sickening smell of blood, drove us out again almost
immediately. At that moment another party of the Japanese passed our
hiding-place. An infantry soldier in advance carried a large uncovered
flambeau, which threw a broad, red, steady glare over all surrounding
objects. I at once saw that these were all officers, excepting two or
three; smart, well-got-up, gentlemanly-looking little men in the
extreme; returning, perhaps, from calling off the last of their bloody
war-dogs, or making sure that all resistance had ceased. They were
laughing and chatting gaily, as if the massacre were rather a pleasant
affair than otherwise. When they had gone by, we issued into the
street, but had proceeded only a few paces when we saw a man carrying
a lantern appear round the abrupt bend before mentioned. He looked
like another Japanese hurrying after his companions who had just
passed. We returned with all haste to the doorway; and as we judged
that he had probably seen us, we re-entered the inner slaughter-house
and closed the door. We were right in thinking we had been seen, and
in about a minute we heard steps outside the door, which was presently
thrust violently open and the soldier entered, a low, sinister figure,
holding a drawn sword in what seemed to me a curiously white hand. He
peered into the obscurity, perceived me, and doubtless taking me, in
the uncertain light, for a Japanese, from the clothes I wore, lowered
his weapon and addressed me in a harsh authoritative tone. The sound
of the language was singularly like that of Italian. He pointed to the
Chinamen, probably asking what they were. I took advantage of his
unguarded pause to plunge my bayonet in his body, with a thrust so
rapid that he had not time to make the least movement to avoid it. He
fell at once where he stood, but attempted to rise again, when I gave
him another prick which settled his business. He fell back heavily
against the counter with a groan. One of the heads above was shaken
off its spike by the concussion and struck him on the shoulder as he
lay. His eyes, opening and shutting convulsively, seemed to gaze upon
the ghastly object. He groaned again, and in a few moments was dead. I
bent over him with the lantern, and soon perceived from the richness
of his uniform and accoutrements, as well as from the look of caste
about the head and face, that I had killed an officer of high rank. He
wore white gloves, which accounted for the od