Corpses were not uncommon in nineteenth-century European cities.
The most eye-catching thing is the execution ground set up at the intersection of busy streets. People who have committed serious crimes will be hanged here in public to serve as a warning and to demonstrate authority.
But these are all official unilateral ideas, and public execution sites often turn into gathering places for people to revel. They drank wine and cheered as the man fell freely under the noose.
For surgeons who are good at recycling, hanged corpses do not have many wounds and their structures are complete enough, making them high-quality materials for anatomy.
High quality is high quality, but there are still some shortcomings.
First, most of the victims were adult men, lacking diversity. Second, the price was too high. One corpse was often worth several months' salary of a worker. Even for large institutions like hospitals, it is difficult to achieve long-term uninterrupted supply.
Since Austria followed the footsteps of Britain, France and Germany and promulgated the relevant "Anatomy Act", the corpses on the execution ground have been blocked from the doctors' dissecting rooms. No one will hang a guy who stole bread just to sell it for money anymore.
The executioner stepped down from the stage of history, and the gravedigger became the surgeon's "good partner".
Far away from the main city, in the dark alleys, people suffering from hunger, cold and disease would die silently. As long as you have the patience to discover, you can always find one or two in the slums.
Gravediggers often use unscrupulous means to resell apparently "unclaimed" bodies to hospitals to earn the price difference.
There are men, women and children here, with a wide variety and very low cost, but it is difficult to guarantee the quality. Poor people live in poor living conditions and often suffer from severe pneumonia, vicious diarrhea, parasitic diseases and large areas of sores. These factors will accelerate the decomposition of the body after death.
Even the fresh corpses that were obtained immediately had minor problems of one kind or another. For example, severe muscle atrophy and osteoporosis caused by long-term malnutrition, sometimes there are not even a few teeth left in the mouth.
Bad quality is better than no quality, and the market for corpses in Vienna remains active.
Ignatz was so passionate about medicine that he would give up everything to improve his craft. It's just that his status as a baron makes him intimidated by gravediggers, and it's difficult for poor people's corpses to meet his high requirements, so he actually doesn't understand the autopsy table.
What was before him now was a fill-in-the-blank question. Where else could the body be retrieved besides death row criminals and gravediggers?
The answer is the police department.
The forensic doctor in the police station was his old friend. In the past, when there were not enough corpses in the execution ground, Ignatz could get something from him. It was not illegal at the time, but things in the gray area were not very honorable after all, so as his skills became more and more sophisticated, Ignatz had not been there for several years.
Now times have changed, and surgical technology is in urgent need of innovation. He must try his luck there again.
For a famous surgeon like Ignatz, even if he does not have the title of baron, his face and outfit alone are enough to identify him. There are many fans of his throughout the police station, and they often go to the theater to support him. Getting in and out of here is as convenient as going home.
Of course, Ignatz, who is as dazzling as a star, rarely walks around with fans. There is only one and only one who can truly be called an old friend, Musil.
Musil was an old classmate who graduated from the Vienna University Medical School at the same time as him. Because he could not bear the patients dying one by one in front of him, he finally chose the profession of speaking for the dead. Being away from patients further honed his anatomy skills and even developed a different kind of emotion towards corpses.
"You came at the right time, come on, come on, take a look at this beauty..."
As soon as Ignatz entered the door, he was pulled to the dissecting table before he could explain his purpose.
Lying on the cold stone bed in front of her was Rosa, who had just been discovered on Basinger Street. She had blond hair, a well-proportioned figure, and smooth skin, but her face that was swollen due to broken bones was not really that beautiful. (1)
Fortunately, to anatomists, faces don't matter.
Musil looked at the corpse with only one broken arm, and his voice was so excited that his voice trembled: "It was just delivered three hours ago. I heard that he committed suicide by jumping off the building and landed on his face. Fortunately, it was on the third floor. If it were higher, But it’s not that complete.”
"He died on the third floor?" Ignatz felt a little strange. "Last time, the grocery store owner only broke one leg when he accidentally came down from the fifth floor."
Musil sighed, recalling the old man, his face full of pity: "Yes, his body is indeed very strong. Unfortunately, his mind was too fragile and could not bear the pain caused by the amputation. He died the next day. died."
The operation was performed by Ignatz, so the direction of this sentence is very obvious.
Perhaps it was because the two old friends hadn't seen each other for a long time, so they started talking with all their strength and brought out all the old things.
"I need to remind you that it's not my fault that there was no ether anesthesia at the time."
"But that doesn't make it a disaster."
"It was not a disaster. I successfully removed his leg and it only took 1 minute and 21 seconds."
"Ha, if Mr. Scott hadn't been buried for twelve years, he might be leaning on a cane and agreeing with you with a smile."
After hearing this, Ignatz could not help but twitch his face twice, and turned his face to look at his old friend: "If you tease me that my courage can be put to good use in medicine, maybe you will be as famous as me now. A surgeon, but it’s a pity that you don’t have one.”
"Yes, I'm scared." Musil's tone was calm, and he had long lost the enthusiasm he had in the past. "An operation with a mortality rate of more than 50% is meaningless."
"That was your operation. The mortality rate of my operation at that time was only 47%, and through my unremitting efforts, it has now been successfully reduced to less than 45%." After Ignatz listed these numbers, he did not forget to add a final sentence. , “I am now the surgeon who performs the most types of surgeries and has the highest success rate in Austria.”
Seeing him so excited, Musil changed his expression, smiled and comforted: "Yes, yes, you are better than me, okay? If you have time to argue with me, you might as well spend more time looking at her, she is He should be our protagonist today!”
Ignatz calmed down and finally focused on the corpse.
My old friend's mouth was a little damaged, but he still had a unique eye for looking at corpses. After checking up and down, he indeed found no other injuries besides the fractured head and arms: "She really jumped from the third floor?"
"Why did I lie to you? No. 73, Basinger Street."
"Based on my experience, the body cannot stay upright after falling, and the face should not be so shattered. Did it hit something halfway?"
"No, I came down directly."
"A little strange..."
Ignatz felt strange, but his mind was not at all on the cause of Rosa's death. He has only one purpose here, which is to retrieve the corpse. So after dealing with Musil for a few words, he quickly changed the topic to other places: "Is she a local?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I guess she lives alone."
"Oh? You can see this?"
Ignatz nodded seriously, and then continued: "I think she looks like a Russian from the east."
"Hey, my face is completely gone. Can you still tell your nationality?"
"No, no, my old friend, the evidence I mentioned is actually the name."
Ignatz walked to his feet and picked up the card on his toe: "Rosa Ivanova, Rosa Petrova, it sounds very natural. Of course, it may also be French, Rosa... Bonnard, Rosa Vigeri, doesn’t sound bad either. Austrian? Rosa Joseph? Rosa Derling? Ha, that’s so weird!”
Musil understood immediately and smiled: "She does live alone, and there is no contact information for her family members. We should help bury her as required."
"I want 50 crowns."
"You are too straightforward."
"Fifty kronor is already a high price." Ignatz didn't bother to pretend anymore and asked directly, "Just tell me whether to sell it or not."
Musil returned to the body, shook his head and said: "Our detective has not closed the case yet, the body may still be kept."
"Huh? Didn't you say suicide?"
"It's what the people on the street said. They just saw her fall down. I just said she lives alone, who knows what went wrong in the room. Besides, you know, Inspector Witte is always serious, it's impossible Let go of this doubt."
Musil picked up the scalpel on the side and said: "Otherwise, you can close this case. As long as the detective closes the case, I will submit the application so that I can get off work early. What do you think of the proposal?"
"How can I have this ability..."
Ignatz has no way to decide the direction of the case, but he still has the qualification to be ranked first on the buyer's list: "No matter what, the body will be mine as long as no one claims it. We have agreed, 50 Krone, you can’t sell it to anyone else!”
"Okay, no problem."
...
Ignatz turned and left the anatomy room. To be honest, this trip did not yield much. Musil did not have a corpse that he could use.
With the detective's cautious style, it would take at least three days for the case to be concluded. By that time, the operation was long over, and the body left in the autopsy room, even if soaked in whiskey, could not stop the decay.
What's more, it's impossible for the police department to preserve the body with whiskey that everyone wants to try. Looking around the world, only anatomists can resist the temptation of alcohol.
Just as he dejectedly stepped out of the police station gate and prepared to return to the hospital, a black carriage drove from a distance. The driver was dressed in black, with a high black hat on his head, and the police station logo was printed on the vehicle. The horses seemed to be more energetic than ordinary carriages.
"Hey, isn't this Baron Ignatz~"
The person who got out of the car and took off his hat and bowed to him was none other than Werther, the detective of the Vienna police station: "Why are you here free? Are you encountering some difficult problem?"
Ignatz didn't know how to answer.
He had little friendship with Werther, so it was obviously not in line with his status to lower his stature to beg the other person. So after hesitating for a moment, he could only smile and make an excuse: "I'm here to see Musil. We haven't gotten together for a long time. I didn't expect that today is an unlucky day. The police station has a case to handle."
"Yeah, it's just unlucky."
"Oh, we can only talk about it later."
After that, Ignatz was about to say goodbye and leave.
"Hey, Baron Ignatz, please wait a moment." Werther suddenly blocked his way, "I'm sorry, I need to waste some of your time."
"What's wrong?"
"It's not a big deal." Werther looked back at the young man who had just got off the carriage and said, "There is an important witness in this case, and he claims to be your student. There is nothing wrong with your students all over the country. It's just that from Judging by what you're wearing...forget it, I think it's better for you to confirm it in person."
