The strikers were jubilant over the event. He had fallen in fair fight, they alleged, when leading the police and soldiers to attack peaceful citizens; and his death was hailed as triumph and encouragement to their cause.
In fact almost every conceivable reason was given—except the truth.
There were a few who looked a little deeper for the cause; and among these was my old friend General von Eckerstein.
Three days after the outbreak of the riots I called to bid him good-bye, and I found him deeply impressed and full of interested speculation about the matter.
“What beats me, Bob, is what business he had to get into the thick of a street fight,” he said. “He must have been mad. From what I have heard, his whole conduct that day was more than eccentric.”
“Wasn’t it his duty, then?” I asked casually.
“Duty? What! To go out and fight the mob? What do you suppose the ordinary police and soldiers are for?”
“He must have had some private motive then.”
He turned on me like a flash. “What do you mean? Do you know anything?”
“No, nothing officially.”