Later on in the afternoon, the great magazine in the heart of Delhi was seen from the Ridge to explode in a cloud of smoke and flame. It was in charge of Lieutenant Willoughby of the Bengal artillery, but he had only eight Europeans with him; the guards and workmen were all Asiatics. Arms were served out to every one; loaded guns were pointed to the gateways; and a train of gunpowder was laid to the chief magazine. A vast host of rebels pressed round the enclosure, and demanded the surrender of the magazine in the name of the king. Admittance was refused, but the rebels brought ladders to the walls, or climbed to the roofs of neighbouring buildings, and poured a hot fire on the inmates of the magazine. Most of the workmen joined the rebels. Those who still remained staunch threw away their rifles, and seemed bereft of their senses. At last Lieutenant Willoughby ordered Sergeant Scully to fire the train. In a moment there was a great upheaval. Hundreds of rebels were blown into the air; but unfortunately the greater part of the stores fell into the enemy's hands. Willoughby and three others got away out of the city scorched, bruised, and insensible; but Willoughby was murdered a few days afterwards in a neighbouring village. Scully was wounded by the explosion, and killed by the rebels; he and his four companions were seen no more. [Sidenote: Flight from Flagstaff Tower.] By this time all hope of rescue had died out from the fugitives in Flagstaff Tower. It was feared that the rebels would return to the Ridge to complete the work of slaughter. All fled the best way they could--men, ladies, and children; some in carriages, others on horseback, and many on foot. Even at this distance of time, it is terrible to think of their sufferings. Many were slaughtered by the rebels, but some found refuge in the houses of Hindu villagers, who treated them with kindness and hospitality at the risk of their own lives. [Sidenote: Last telegram.] Before the day was over the clerk at the telegraph office on the Ridge sent his last telegram. "The mutineers from Meerut are masters of Delhi; several Europeans have been murdered; the office must be closed." Shortly afterwards the rebel sepoys swarmed out of the city to complete the work of destruction on the Ridge, and the poor telegraph clerk was cut to pieces and heard of no more. [Sidenote: Sudden alarm.]