The criminal, to judge by narratives, invariably "does himself proud" over that last breakfast, ordering steak and oysters, kidneys on toast, and all kinds of things that can't possibly have time to do him any good. We each ordered our own favourite dish, and sat down on odd pieces of furniture or boxes to eat it, and gazing at the wide scene of peace around, with the beauty of the typical African morning (it being a very rare thing in Africa to wake to a wet morning), we remarked in turn what a "lovely world it was," and other dying speeches of that sort, and then rose to repair to the house, where the tins had been placed overnight in the rooms, the prussic acid and the vitriol all ready in rows of bottles on a tray, and nothing to do now but the fateful mixing. "Now," said the Electrical Engineer (who, having passed in electricity, is supposed to know something about everything else under the sun), "everyone will please take jugs and go and pour your water each into your own cans in the room allotted to you. Then come back here for the vitriol, each carrying your mask." By the chemist's advice we had made ourselves thick masks of felt, covering the nose and mouth, with slits for the eyes. These, as soon as the water had been poured into the cans--Jaikeran standing looking on at these preparations with a countenance of terror--we each tied over our faces with tapes. Then we all started to feel our way back into the dining-room, where our vitriol was to be doled out to us. "My eye isn't big enough," groaned Veronica. "I can't see where I am going. Someone please cut the slits larger for me." And Veronica sat down, and then each of us in turn, while the others stood and applied scissors to the slits, at the imminent risk of cutting out our eyes. No one could breathe, and the panting in the room was awful. "Come here," said the Electrical Engineer to Jaikeran, "and have your mask on, you Jaikeran." Jaikeran, trembling like a leaf, fell on his two knees to the Electrical Engineer and held up his hands in prayer. "Sahib have mercy on Jaikeran!" he quavered. "Sahib no kill poor Jaikeran this time! Sahib spare my life, and sahib have tit-for-tat." When the Electrical Engineer said, "Don't be a fool!" and tried to fix his mask on for him, he made for the open door, and the exasperated Electrical Engineer started to chase him round and round the cottage. We would have let him go back to his home--a patch of mealies, two cows, a hut, and a skinny brother--shining clearly about three miles away on the broad table of green, but we had to have Jaikeran to help; so the Electrical Engineer caught him, assured him that (if we could manage it) no one would die that day, and, leading him back by the scruff of his neck, it seemed as if now, at last, all was once more ready.