“I will ask no questions,” the prince said; “it is clear that you are a brave young man, and I trust that whatever happens here you will escape.”
Rex now took his leave. The people in the ante–room looked at him with some curiosity and not without hostility because of the time that his interview had lasted. He passed out quietly, however, without looking to right or left, and made his way towards the cathedral, where he was joined by his followers. He had a vague hope that he might be able to communicate with those besieged in the cathedral and learn the state of their supplies, but he found that the investment of the place was complete. The cathedral and the adjoining building, however, were very strong, and he felt sure that they could repel every attack, and that if they yielded it must be to famine.
Making his way through the town he was more than once stopped and questioned by bodies of soldiers; but his story, supported as it was by Prince Chingʼs signature to his petition, at once removed all suspicion, and he sallied out through the Si Chi Mên without hindrance. He remained in the fields until after dark, then entered by the Tung Pien Mên, and made his way along the foot of the wall in the Chinese city till he reached the end of Legation Street. Shots were being exchanged with such frequency that he did not dare to go farther, so he and his followers lay down in the ruin of the American Methodist building. Towards morning, the firing having ceased, they crawled forward to within fifty yards of the barrier, then, standing up, ran forward, Rex shouting: “Donʼt fire, I am an Englishman.”
“Who are you?” asked the sergeant at the post.
“My name is Bateman,” said Rex, “and I have been to the town on a mission from the British Minister.”
“Well, you had better climb over, whoever you are,” the sergeant said. “We can question you when you get inside, but you will be shot in less than no time if you stop there.”
As he spoke a rifle cracked out and the ball struck a stone within an inch or two of Rexʼs head. He and his followers scrambled over the barricade with alacrity, and, having satisfied the guard of their identity, passed on through the Russian Legation to the British head–quarters. He went straight to the room occupied by the students. Half of his comrades were away on guard, but Sandwich was in.
“So you are back again, Bateman!” Sandwich exclaimed. “You have as many lives as a cat.”
“Well, I have run no risks this time. I have scarce had a question asked me since I left. There is really no reason whatever why natives from here shouldnʼt go regularly into the city, providing they can get rid of whatever it is that shows that they are Christians.”