ligature, toxin or concussion.
The deceased had ingested between six and seven ounces of protein and carbohydrate, with traces of mineral compounds, not more than one hour previous to death. No part of the contents of his stomach was inconsistent with normal nutritional processes.
The bone structure of the body appeared to be sound, apart from a healed fracture, many years old, of a bone in the left forearm.
No natural teeth survived in either the lower or the upper jaw.
He had observed a bruise, together with adjacent abrasion, minor in character, in the upper area of the left hip. There were several smaller bruises distributed over both legs. On the left shoulder was an abrasion, while on the right knee...
“Correct me if I am wrong, doctor,” broke in the deputy coroner, made daring by boredom, “but I take it that what you are listing now are the body’s superficial injuries—the incidental injuries?”
Heineman pretended to find the interruption incomprehensible. He turned upon Malley a look of sweetly helpful inquiry: it implied that the sergeant was Dr Thompson’s keeper and was trained to translate his utterances into rational language.
Thompson frowned. “You do not suggest, do you, doctor, that the injuries you have been describing were contributory to this man’s death? That is all I am asking.”
Heineman looked at the ceiling, then at Inspector Purbright. He gave Purbright a knowing smile, glanced back to his notes, and went on with the report as if no one else had spoken.
He was now happily exploring the complex world of Winge’s cranium.
Purbright understood singularly little of this part of the pathologist’s evidence, but as he listened and looked to see what others were making of it, two things became clear. Heineman had made some discovery by which he was genuinely intrigued. And Meadow—who up to then had affected absolute indifference—was paying careful attention to what Heineman was saying.
Mr Scorpe, too, seemed gravely interested, but since that particular expression was habitual with him—it had been called his ‘working face’—Purbright could not be certain that he really found the matter significant.
Dr Thompson offered no further interruption. Only when the pathologist had sat down, beaming his congratulations to the audience on their having enjoyed such a marvellous lecture, did he enquire, with malevolent ingenuousness, whether Dr Heineman was not in a position to suggest a cause of death.
Heineman’s eyes popped with amused surprise.
“Cows of dith? But drownink! What ilse?”
“Thank you, doctor. You might have mentioned it earlier.”
The deputy coroner wrote something on the sheet before him. He looked up.
“Would anyone like to ask Dr Heineman any questions? Inspector?”
Purbright shook his head.
“Dr Meadow?”
Meadow declined. Fastidiously.
“Mr Scorpe—you represent the family of the deceased, I understand...”
Scorpe bobbed his great solemn head. “
“Is there anything you would care to ask the witness?”
Scorpe rose menacingly and re-arranged some of his books, like sandbags before a redoubt. “A couple of points, doctor, if you wouldn’t mind...”
“Pliss!”
Scorpe looked down at the carbon copy of Heineman’s report with which the helpful Malley had provided him.
“You say that you found clear indications of a certain neurological condition known as Grosserbayer’s Syndrome.”
Heineman nodded. He looked very affable.
“This condition being, in the language of the layman, a disturbance of the brain...”
“Of the cintral neerwus system,” Heineman corrected, one finger raised.
“
Dr Heineman bowed. “Of course!” He prepared to make a count of his fingers. “One—he will hev drobbles controllink the belence...”
“Trouble controlling his balance, yes.”
“...particularly in moments of striss or enkziety. At such times. You see? Two—very probably he will hev parapsychotic re-ektions to sixual stimuli. Three—a well-ricogniced sympton of Grosserbayerism is the patient’s euphoric, I could even say halucinaaaatory, estimaaaation of his own physical potintial.”
Mr Scorpe silently digested this for some seconds before attempting a translation.
“In other words, doctor, the unfortunate man not only would lack what we sometimes call moral control, but would have an exaggerated idea of his own vitality?”
