lations." He, too, was released. The thing was becoming a
farce. The Prince was unable to try any suspect. The Italian papers
raised choruses of blame against the Dutch gendarmerie, which at
that time was very honestly trying to do its duty. The Prince, who
was like a large, good-natured St. Bernard dog, yapped and snapped
at all round, completely confused by the din, yielded each time, and
so soon alienated the sympathy of the Dutch officers, who, as more
than one of them complained to me, got into trouble on his behalf
and then received no support.

News arrived that Osman Bali, one of the two men reported to have
assassinated Hussein Riza in Scutari, had been seen among the
insurgents, and was probably this time also acting for Essad. The
Italians put in a demand that Lieutenant Fabius, who had arrested
the Italian Colonel Muricchio, should apologize. This Fabius very
properly refused to do, and many of us supported him. I had known
him during the Balkan war, and found him a very honest boy. Italy
then demanded his dismissal. But this time the Prince stood firm.

Fachinetti, the Italian correspondent, whom I had known well during
the war of 1912-13, was also in Durazzo. In the Balkan war he had
warmly taken the part of the Albanians, and had worked with me. Now
he knew I should not approve his doings, and he kept out of my way,
dodging whenever he saw me coming. Crajevsky, too, was not pleased
to see me. He was now more pro-Slav even than the Russians, and as
he had been more Turk than the Turks only two years before, he must
have known that his volte face was, to me, rather comical. And he is
the kind of man that does not like being thought funny.

Colonel Thompson, who was commanding the Dutch gendarmes, met me and
told me that he was going to =give an ultimatum to the insurgents in
the next few days, and asked me to call at eleven next morning and
talk the matter over with him. I never did. That night things seemed
shaky. I overheard Fachinetti, whose room was next mine, tell the
landlord to knock him up if anything happened. So I did very little
undressing, thinking he was probably behind some plot. I put my
boots handy, and laid down as I was, for a bit of sleep, and jumped
up to the sound of rifle fire as the landlord banged on Fachinetti's
door. Sharp firing sounded close. I dashed out so soon as I could
lace my boots, and went down to the entrance of the town where
Fabius was in great haste serving out amm