R. Morris - The Gentle Axe

“Porfiry Petrovich. I am not wrong. I am never wrong. It is impossible for the office of the prokuror to make mistakes. The law is quite clear on this. However”-Prokuror Liputin looked Porfiry in the eye-“it is certainly possible that you could have made a mistake. You could, for example, have misinterpreted my instructions.”

“I am sure that that is what has happened.”

“So I shall speak very clearly this time, in order that there should be no misunderstanding. You are to commission Dr. Pervoyedov to conduct a medical examination of the deceased Govorov forthwith. If the test for prussic acid poisoning is positive, you are to reopen the case of the dwarf-”

“Stepan Sergeyevich Goryanchikov.”

“-and the yardkeeper. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Prokuror Liputin.”

“Incidentally, if Dr. Pervoyedov does find that Govorov was poisoned by prussic acid, I will have no choice but to instigate disciplinary proceedings against you, Porfiry Petrovich.”

“I understand, your excellency,” said Porfiry, almost losing his balance through the depth of his bow.

The body was wrapped in a green canvas sheet, rubberized on the inside. Two rubber-aproned orderlies lifted it from the trolley, one at either end. They grimaced noiselessly as they took the full weight. It seemed a point of pride to them not to utter a sound. The load did not sag or bend at any point. The orderlies seemed surprised by this rigidity, although they must have experienced it before. Perhaps it surprised them anew each time they encountered it. Or perhaps they were thinking of something else entirely.

They dropped it heavily on the waist-high examination table, the pine surface of which was as pitted and stained as a butcher’s block. It had beveled edges and a drainage hole at one end over an enamel trough. There was another, smaller table to one side, with a large set of balancing scales on it.

“How extraordinary. What an extraordinarily novel idea,” commented Dr. Pervoyedov, as he opened the canvas sheet exposing the gray-faced cadaver beneath. “To conduct a medical examination in a hospital! That is to say, to arrange the medical examination to suit the convenience of the medical examiner. What is the world coming to? What indeed. I wonder if our beloved tsar, when he began to entertain the notion of reform, I wonder if he ever dreamed that it would lead to such, such…revolutionary novelties !” Dr. Pervoyedov seemed particularly pleased with this choice of word and so repeated it several times: “Novelties. Yes, novelties. Here at the Obukhovsky Hospital, novelties!”

Major General Volkonsky and Actual State Councilor Yepanchin were once again in attendance as official witnesses. They frowned disapprovingly at Pervoyedov’s outburst.

Porfiry Petrovich smiled indulgently. “I was much struck by the prokuror ’s use of the word ‘forthwith.’ Equally by his tone. There was an urgency to it. I took it upon myself to ensure that there would be no possibility of delay.”

“Will Prokuror Liputin be joining us?”

“I think not,” said Porfiry. His smile became tense. “I have the feeling that he wishes to maintain a certain distance from the proceedings until the outcome is clear.”

“Would that we all had that luxury.” After this comment Dr. Pervoyedov worked in silence. He was helped by one of the orderlies, who took upon himself the role of diener. Dr. Pervoyedov had not trained in Germany, but he had learned his pathology from professors who had and from the German textbooks they had brought back with them. The doctor communicated with his assistant-or “servant,” to translate the German term more accurately-through a system of finely nuanced facial expressions and nods. First Pervoyedov examined the already exposed areas of the corpse, including the eyes and fingernails. Then he nodded to the diener, and they began between them to remove the clothes. There was something numbing about the dead man’s open-eyed passivity as he was hefted to facilitate his last undressing.

Now the body lay naked on its back. The contaminating grayness of death had been released. The abdomen spread out to the sides in soft, uneven mounds. The penis was plump and stunted, shrunken into itself. It had the shamefaced air of a whipped dog. It was hard to think of anything more insignificant. Porfiry thought back to the time in the pawnbroker’s when Govorov had accosted him. He felt himself blush and averted his gaze distastefully.

He heard them roll the body over.

“No external signs of traumata,” Dr. Pervoyedov murmured.

After several silent minutes the body was rolled again onto its back.

“We are particularly interested to know if there is any evidence of poisoning. For example, by prussic acid.” Porfiry addressed the remark to the ceiling.

“Everything in due course, Porfiry Petrovich. Everything in due course.”

Porfiry saw out of the corner of his eye that Pervoyedov had begun the deep, Y-shaped incision that would enable the skin to be pulled back.

Dr. Pervoyedov teased a long-bladed scalpel beneath the flesh with one hand, as he lifted a single thick sheet of skin and tissue away with the other. Porfiry was aware of the movement and the faint meaty smell that came when the body was opened up. The diener was already standing ready with the small curved shears that were used for severing ribs. Dr. Pervoyedov gave one of his communicative nods and then exchanged his scalpel for the rib-cutters.

He clipped methodically through the ribs on either side, with the ugly concentration of a man cutting his toenails. Each time the sharp metallic snip of the blades as they pinched together through the costal cartilages increased the startled determination angling the doctor’s eyebrows.

At last the cutting was complete, and he once again exchanged the shears for a scalpel. The diener, prompted by a particularly emphatic nod from Dr. Pervoyedov, placed the rib-cutters on the other table. He then bowed over the open chest of the body and suddenly plunged the fingers of both hands between the exposed and severed ribs, closing his grip beneath the sternum. He gave a sharp tug. Dr. Pervoyedov’s scalpel licked into the dark opening created to release the last tethers of tissue. The chest plate came away and was placed on the other table.

“If I remember correctly, Dr. Pervoyedov, you mentioned that in the case of the yardkeeper, Borya, the covering of the lungs was inflamed. It was that, I believe, that first alerted you to the possibility of poisoning. I wonder if that is the case in this cadaver?”

“We shall have a look, Porfiry Petrovich. Fortunately for you, I follow the Virchow method.” Dr. Pervoyedov drew his scalpel across the top of the abdomen. The skin fell away under pressure from the bloated internal organs. The doctor stepped back, giving way to his diener, who was now intent on some dark business involving string and scissors inside the body. Dr. Pervoyedov watched him with an expression of focused approval. “The Virchow method, you know, by which the organs are removed and examined separately.” To the diener he added: “Give me the lungs first, will you?”

The diener plunged both hands into the cavity and removed them a moment later, cradling an elongated raw pinky mass.

“The left?” asked Dr. Pervoyedov.

The diener nodded.

“It looks very pink. Not healthy. Not healthy at all. Yes, I would describe that as inflamed, wouldn’t you, Porfiry Petrovich?”

“You are the expert.”

“Ha! I am the expert! That’s nice. That’s very nice.” Dr. Pervoyedov shook his head. Then nodded for the diener, who placed the lung on the scales.