“What is that for?” asked Theodoor.
“My dear fellow,” replied the doctor, “I must have you in pyjamas; for I shall have narrowly to watch the action of the chest.”
Grenits retired to his bedroom, and in a few minutes returned clad in his ordinary night clothing. The doctor then made him lie down on the divan, he felt his pulse, examined his tongue, sounded him with the stethoscope, and carefully took his temperature. During these preliminaries the countenance of Murowski wore a look of stern solemnity which, no doubt, ought to have impressed the spectators with the feelings of respect and awe due to a high priest of science; but which, unfortunately, only served to excite their merriment. Even Grenits himself could hardly repress a smile.
“What in the world is the good of all that hocus-pocus?” whispered August van Beneden to Grashuis.
“Why are you lawyers,” rejoined the other, “always fencing with scraps of Latin? It is the correct thing, I suppose. It is a trick of the trade.”
At length Grenits said: “Well, doctor, is my carcase in pretty good order?”
“Perfect,” replied Murowski, “perfectly normal; I must have a look at the barometer, and then our experiment may begin at once.”
The barometer recorded 745 m.m., and the doctor made a note of the reading.
“There, now,” he said to Grenits, “I am quite ready—no, no, wait a bit—there is something else. When did you last partake of food?”
“At half-past twelve,” replied Grenits, “the usual dinner.”