Part 12 (1/2)
”Yes. Were they a man's arms or a woman's arms?”
”Oh, a man's arms.”
”Yes; last Tuesday, a week ago to-day, you were dissecting a man's arms in the dissecting-room. Sixpence, please.”
”By Jove!”
”Wait a moment. You know a lot more about it than that. You've no idea how much you know. You know what kind of man he was.”
”Oh, I never saw him complete, you know. I got there a bit late that day, I remember. I'd asked for an arm specially, because I was rather weak in arms, and Watts--that's the attendant--had promised to save me one.”
”Yes. You have arrived late and found your arm waiting for you. You are dissecting it--taking your scissors and slitting up the skin and pinning it back. Wasit very young, fair skin?”
”Oh, no--no. Ordinary skin, I think--with dark hairs on it--yes, that was it.”
”Yes. A lean, stringy arm, perhaps, with no extra fat anywhere?”
”Oh, no--I was rather annoyed about that. I wanted a good, muscular arm, but it was rather poorly developed and the fat got in my way.”
”Yes; a sedentary man who didn't do much manual work.”
”That's right.”
”Yes. You dissected the hand, for instance, and made a drawing of it. You would have noticed any hard calluses.”
”Oh, there was nothing of that sort.”
”No. But should you say it was a young man's arm? Firm young flesh and limber joints?”
”No--no.”
”No. Old and stringy, perhaps.”
”No. Middle-aged--with rheumatism. I mean, there was a chalky deposit in the joints, and the fingers were a bit swollen.”
”Yes. A man about fifty.”
”About that.”
”Yes. There were other students at work on the same body.”
”Oh, yes.”
”Yes. And they made all the usual sort of jokes about it.”
”I expect so--oh, yes!””You can remember some of them. Who is your local funny man, so to speak?”
”Tommy Pringle.”
”What was Tommy Pringle doing?”
”Can't remember.”
”Whereabouts was Tommy Pringle working?”
”Over by the instrument-cupboard--by sink C.”
”Yes. Get a picture of Tommy Pringle in your mind's eye.”
Piggott began to laugh.
”I remember now. Tommy Pringle said the old Sheeny--”
”Why did he call him a Sheeny?”
”I don't know. But I know he did.”
”Perhaps he looked like it. Did you see his head?”
”No.”
”Who had the head?”
”I don't know--oh, yes, I do, though. Old Freke bagged the head himself, and little Bouncible Binns was very cross about it, because he'd been promised a head to do with old Scrooger.”
”I see; what was Sir Julian doing with the head?”
”He called us up and gave us a jaw on spinal hmorrhage and nervous lesions.”
”Yes. Well, go back to Tommy Pringle.”
Tommy Pringle's joke was repeated, not without some embarra.s.sment.”Quite so. Was that all?”
”No. The chap who was working with Tommy said that sort of thing came from overfeeding.”
”I deduce that Tommy Pringle's partner was interested in the alimentary ca.n.a.l.”
”Yes; and Tommy said, if he'd thought they'd feed you like that he'd go to the workhouse himself.”
”Then the man was a pauper from the workhouse.”
”Well, he must have been, I suppose.”
”Are workhouse paupers usually fat and well-fed?”
”Well, no--come to think of it, not as a rule.”
”In fact, it struck Tommy Pringle and his friend that this was something a little out of the way in a workhouse subject?”
”Yes.”