What we have is a man, aged thirty perhaps, slender. Unusual tattooing on the face and chest. Probably superstitious heresy. Wearing some sort of industrial mask when we brought him in, stolen out of one of the whaling factories from the look of it. (Pause) (To the subject) You’re one of Daud's men, aren’t you? Caught at last. (Brief pause) Give us a name, at least. (To others) What’s wrong with his eyes? Opium? Laudanum? (To the subject) Are you with us? (To others) What’s he doing? (Louder) Some kind of fit!? (Sounds of convulsions) (Pause) He’s gone. (Pause) Here it is; a pin, hidden in one of his gloves. (More official) Subject has administered some kind of poison. The effects seem to have been lethal.