"Very right too."

"Yes, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to
beating the subjects in the dissecting-rooms with a stick,
it is certainly taking rather a bizarre shape."

"Beating the subjects!"

"Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death.
I saw him at it with my own eyes."

"And yet you say he is not a medical student?"

"No. Heaven knows what the objects of his studies are.
But here we are, and you must form your own impressions about
him." As he spoke, we turned down a narrow lane and passed
through a small side-door, which opened into a wing of the
great hospital. It was familiar ground to me, and I needed
no guiding as we ascended the bleak stone staircase and made
our way down the long corridor with its vista of whitewashed
wall and dun-coloured doors. Near the further end a low
arched passage branched away from it and led to the chemical
laboratory.

This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with countless
bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered about, which
bristled with retorts, test-tubes, and little Bunsen lamps,
with their blue flickering flames. There was only one
student in the room, who was bending over a distant table
absorbed in his work. At the sound of our steps he glanced