The "trippers" from Hamburg and nearer-by points in Schleswig-Holstein, whom the Sunday of Kiel Week attracts by the thousand, were far more stunned than von G. by the news from Bosnia, which put so tragic an end to their seaside holiday. The esplanade, which had been throbbing with bustle and glittering with color, did not know at first why all the ships in the harbor, British as well as German, had suddenly lowered their pennants to half-mast, or why the Austrian royal standard had suddenly broken out, also at the mourning altitude. The Kaiser was racing in the Baltic. "Old Franz Josef," some said, "has died. He’s been going for many a day." Presently the truth percolated through the awestruck crowds. The sleek white naval dispatch-boat _Sleipner_ tore through the Bay, Baltic-bound. She carries news to William II when he governs Germany from the quarter-deck of the _Hohenzollern_. _Sleipner_ dodged eel-like, through the lines of British and German men-of-war, ocean liners, pleasure-craft and racing-yachts anchored here, there and everywhere. In fifteen minutes she was alongside the Emperor’s fleet schooner, _Meteor V_, which had broken off her race on receipt of wireless tidings of the Archducal couple’s murderous fate. The _Hohenzollern_ had already "wirelessed" for the fastest torpedo-boat in port to fetch the Kaiser and his staff off the _Meteor_, and the destroyer and _Sleipner_ snorted up, foam-bespattered, almost simultaneously. The Emperor clambered into the torpedo-boat and started for the harbor.