On the ninth of March, 1892, Emin left the camp, the scene of so many sorrows, still trusting in his people, though he had been expressly warned of their evil designs. But no choice was left him. Alone, he could reach neither the east nor the west coast. Now at the mercy of a hostile Arab, he was traversing that great region which had been visited only by slave hunters, and the thought of his own weakness was a great pain to him. How many years he had unweariedly fought these cruel men-stealers, inspired at that time by the hope that Europe at last would put an end to the infamous business. Now he looked out upon his province, which under his administration had been a scene of peaceful industry and of continually increasing prosperity, and heard only the shrieks of victims in the silence of the night. The little that we know of Emin’s fate is from his diary, which is brought down to the twenty-second of October, upon which date he met his fate, as the result of revenge for the four prisoners murdered by the Warambas, a crime of which he was believed to be guilty. Emin suspected all. It looks as if he did not try to escape from his fate. We read in his diary that the Arab chief, Kinene, met him and took him to his house at Kasango. “He wants to make sure of me,” writes Emin. He clearly saw through his designs. On the following morning Emin sat upon the beautiful veranda of his false host’s house. Upon the table before him were spread out birds and plants, the spoils of the last few days, which he had investigated and whose characteristics he had noted down. Before him was a letter from the powerful Kibonge, whose possessions were on the Congo, inviting him in a friendly manner to visit him and promising him protection. Emin was in a cheerful mood. Once more it seemed that the cup passed from him. On the morrow he would leave, go to the Congo and thence safely to the coast. Kinene entered and said: “Pasha, as you are going away in the morning, let your people go to the plantations and provide themselves with manioc and bananas. I will give them to you for the many fine things you have brought to me.” Emin looked up from his book and thanked him and then sent for his people. Kinene said: “Let your people leave their guns here on the veranda, for the women who work on the plantations would be terrified if they saw men coming with guns.” The men, fifty in number, did as he suggested and betook themselves to the plantations a mile away. When they were gone, Kinene spoke in a friendly way to Emin and regretted his speedy departure. Ismaili and Mamba, a slave, stood behind Emin’s chair and at a sign from the chief seized him by the arms. Emin turned angrily and asked them what they meant. Then said Kinene: “Pasha, you must die.” “What do you mean?” said Emin. “Is this a sorry joke? How dare you restrain me? What do you mean by saying I must die? Who are you, Kinene, that you should dare to kill me?”