ah.thefinaldiagnosis-第7部分

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ways　the　old　tycoon　possessed　the　power　to　make　or　mar　their　immediate　plans。
　With　so　many　things　pending　O'Donnell　had　hoped　the　problem　of　Pathology　could　be　left　for　a　while。　Nevertheless　he　had　to　take　some　action；　and　soon；　about　Bill　Rufus'　plaint。
　He　turned　away　from　the　plans。　〃Harry；〃　he　said　to　the　administrator；　〃I　think　we　may　have　to　go　to　war　with　Joe　Pearson。〃
　
　Three
　
　In　contrast　with　the　heat　and　activity　of　the　floors　above；　in　the　white…tiled　corridor　of　the　hospital's　basement　it　was　quiet　and　cool。　Nor　was　the　quietness　disturbed　by　a　small　procession…Nurse　Penfield；　and　alongside　her　a　stretcher　gliding　silently　on　ball…bearing　casters　and　propelled　by　a　male　orderly　wearing　rubber…soled　shoes　below　his　hospital　whites。
　How　many　times　had　she　made　this　journey；　Nurse　Penfield　speculated；　glancing　down　at　the　shrouded　figure　on　the　stretcher。　Probably　fifty　times　in　the　past　eleven　years。　Perhaps　more；　because　it　was　not　something　you　kept　score　of…this　final　journey　between　the　ward　and　the　hospital's　morgue；　between　the　territory　of　the　living　and　the　dead。
　A　tradition；　this　last　walk　with　a　patient　who　had　died；　discreetly　timed　and　routed　through　back　corridors　of　the　hospital；　then　downward　in　the　freight　elevator；　so　that　the　living　should　take　no　darkness　or　depression　from　death　so　close　at　hand。　It　was　the　last　service　from　nurse　to　her　charge；　an　acknowledgment　that；　though　medicine　had　failed；　it　would　not　dismiss　the　patient　summarily；　the　motions　of　care；　service；　healing；　would　continue　for　at　least　a　token　time　beyond　the　end。
　The　white　corridor　forked　two　ways　here。　From　a　passage　to　the　right　came　the　hum　of　machinery。　Down　there　were　the　hospital's　mechanical　departments…heating　plant；　hot…water　systems；　electrical　shops；　emergency　generators。　Pointing　the　other　way；　a　single　sign　read：　〃Pathology　Department。　Morgue。〃
　As　Weidman；　the　male　orderly；　swung　the　stretcher　left；　a　janitor…either　on　work　break　or　stolen　time…lowered　the　Coke　he　had　been　drinking　and　moved　aside。　He　wiped　his　lips　on　the　back　of　his　hand；　then　gestured　to　the　shroud。　〃Didn't　make　it；　eh？〃　The　remark　was　to　Weidman；　it　was　an　amiable　gambit；　a　game　played　many　times。
　Weidman；　too；　had　done　this　before。　〃I　guess　they　pulled　his　number；　Jack。〃
　The　janitor　nodded；　then　raised　his　Coke　bottle　again　and　drank　deeply。
　How　short　a　time；　Nurse　Penfield　thought；　between　life　and　the　autopsy　room。　Less　than　an　hour　ago　the　body　under　the　shroud　had　been　George　Andrew　Dunton；　living；　age　fifty…three；　civil　engineer。　She　remembered　the　details　from　the　case　history　on　the　clip　board　under　her　arm。
　The　family　had　behaved　as　well　after　the　death　as　they　had　before…solid；　emotional；　but　no　hysterics。　It　had　made　it　easier　for　Dr。　MacMahon　to　ask　for　permission　to　autopsy。　〃Mrs。　Dunton；〃　he　had　said　quietly；　〃I　know　it's　hard　for　you　to　talk　and　think　about　this　now；　but　there　is　something　I　have　to　ask。　It's　about　permission　for　an　autopsy　on　your　husband。〃
　He　had　gone　on；　using　the　routine　words；　how　the　hospital　sought　to　safeguard　its　medical　standards　for　the　good　of　everyone；　how　a　physician's　diagnosis　could　be　checked　and　medical　learning　advanced；　how　this　was　a　precaution　for　the　family　and　others　who　would　use　the　hospital　in　time　to　e。　But　none　of　this　could　be　done　without　permission　。　。　。
　The　son　had　stopped　him　and　said　gently；　〃We　understand。　If　you　make　out　whatever　is　necessary；　my　mother　will　sign　it。〃
　So　Nurse　Penfield　had　made　out　the　autopsy　form；　and　here　now　was　George　Andrew　Dunton；　dead；　age　fifty…three；　and　ready　for　the　pathologist's　knife。
　The　autopsy…room　doors　swung　open。
　George　Rinne；　the　pathology　department's　Negro　diener…keeper　of　the　morgue…looked　up　as　the　stretcher　rolled　in。　He　had　been　swabbing　the　autopsy　table。　Now　it　shone　spotlessly　white。
　Weidman　greeted　him　with　the　timeworn　jest。　〃Got　a　patient　for　you。〃
　Politely；　as　if　he　hadn't　heard　the　line　a　hundred　times　before；　Rinne　bared　his　teeth　in　a　perfunctory　smile。　He　indicated　the　white　enameled　table。　〃Over　here。〃
　Weidman　maneuvered　the　stretcher　alongside；　and　Rinne　removed　the　sheet　covering　the　naked　corpse　of　George　Andrew　Dunton。　He　folded　it　neatly　and　handed　it　back　to　Weidman。　Death　notwithstanding；　the　sheet　would　have　to　be　accounted　for　back　in　the　ward。　Now；　with　a　second　drawsheet　under　the　torso；　the　two　men　slid　the　body　onto　the　table。
　George　Rinne　grunted　as　he　took　the　weight。　This　had　been　a　heavy　man；　a　six…footer　who　had　run　to　fat　near　the　end　of　his　life。　As　he　wheeled　the　stretcher　clear　Weidman　grinned。　〃You're　getting　old；　George。　Be　your　turn　soon。〃
　Rinne　shook　his　head。　〃I'll　still　be　here　to　lift　you　on　the　table。〃
　The　scene　ran　smoothly。　It　had　had　many　performances。　Perhaps　in　the　distant　past　the　two　had　made　their　grim　little　jokes　with　an　instinct　to　create　some　barrier　between　themselves　and　the　death　they　lived　with　daily。　But　if　so　this　was　long　forgotten。　Now　it　was　a　patter　to　be　run　through；　a　formality　expected；　nothing　more。　They　had　grown　too　used　to　death　to　feel　uneasiness　or　fear。
　On　the　far　side　of　the　autopsy　room　was　the　pathology　resident；　Dr。　McNeil。　He　had　been　shrugging　into　a　white　coat　when　Nurse　Penfield　and　her　charge　came　in。　Now；　glancing　through　the　case　history　and　the　other　papers　she　had　handed　him；　he　was　acutely　conscious　of　Nurse　Penfield's　nearness　and　warmth。　He　sensed　the　crisp　starched　uniform；　a　faint　breath　of　perfume；　a　slight　disarrangement　of　hair　beneath　her　cap；　it　would　be　soft　to　run　his　fingers　through。　He　snatched　his　thoughts　back　to　the　papers　in　hand。
　〃Well；　everything　seems　to　be　here。〃
　Should　he　try　for　Nurse　Penfield　or　not？　It　had　been　six　weeks　now；　and　at　the　age　of　twenty…seven　six　weeks　was　a　long　time　to　be　celibate。　Penfield　was　more　than　averagely　attractive；　probably　thirty…two；　young　enough　to　be　interesting；　old　enough　to　have　long　since　shed　innocency。　She　was　intelligent；　friendly；　good　figure　too。　He　could　see　a　slip　beneath　the　white　uniform；　in　the　heat　she　probably　was　not　wearing　much　else。　Roger　McNeil　calculated。　He　would　probably　have　to　take　her　out　a　couple　of　times　before　she　came　through。　Then　that　settled　it；　it　couldn't　be　this　month…money　was　too　short。　Save　it　for　me；　la　Penfield。　You'll　be　back；　other　patients　will　die　and　bring　you　here。
　〃Thank　you；　Doctor。〃　She　smiled　and　turned　away。　It　could　be　arranged；　he　was　positive　of　that。
　He　called　after　her。　〃Keep　'em　ing！　We　need　the　practice。〃　Again　the　timeworn　jest；　the　defensive　levity　in　face　of　death。
　Elaine　Penfield　followed　the　attendant　out。　Her　journey　was　done；　tradition　honored；　the　extra；　unasked　service　given。　She　had　gone　the　second　mile；　now　her　duty　lay　with　the　sick；　the　living。　She　had　a　feeling；　though；　that　Dr。　McNeil　had　e　close　to　suggesting　something。　But　there　would　be　another　time。
　While　George　Rinne　slipped　a　wooden　headrest　under　the　neck　of　the　body；　arranging　the　arms　at　the　side；　McNeil　began　to　lay　out　the　instruments　they　would　need　for　the　autopsy。　Knives；　rib　cutters；　forceps；　power　saw　for　the　skull　。　。　。　all　of　them　clean…Rinne　was　a　conscientious　worker…but　not　sterile；　as　they　would　have　to　be　in　the　operating　room　four　floors　above。　No　need　here　to　worry　about　infection　of　a　patient　on　the　table；　only　the　pathologists　need　take　precautions　for　themselves。
　George　Rinne　looked　at　McNeil　inquiringly；　and　the　resident　nodded。　〃Better　phone　the　nursing　office；　George；　Tell　them　the　student　nurses　can　e　down　now。　And　let　Dr。　Pearson　know　we're　setting　up。〃
　〃Yes；　Doctor。〃　Rinne　went　out　obediently。　McNeil；　as　pathology　resident；　had　authority　even　though　his　hospital　pay　was　little　more　than　the　janitor's　own。　It　would　not　be　long；　though；　before　the　gap　between　them　would　widen。　With　three　and　a　half　years　of　residency　behind　him　only　another　six　months　separated　McNeil　from　freedom　to　take　a　post　as　staff　pathologist。　Then　he　could　start　considering　some　of　the　twenty…thousand…dollar…a…year　jobs；　because　fortunately　the　demand　for　pathologists　continued　to　be　greater　than　the　supply。　He　would　not　have　to　worry　then　about　whether　he　could　afford　a