Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 164 Elementary Deduction

(Fourth update, bonus chapter for every 1000 votes, I promise)

Lionel Sorel slowly awoke from his dazed state.

He struggled to open his heavy eyelids, and what came into view was a clean white ceiling.

Sunlight streamed through the glass window and fell on him.

He was covered with a rough but clean white sheet, and the air smelled of carbolic acid disinfectant.

The surrounding environment was simple but very clean.

He tried to sit up to get a better look, but he almost fell off the bed when he tried.

The noise immediately alerted the nurses.

A series of hurried yet light footsteps approached, and a young nurse wearing a white apron and with a serious expression appeared beside his bed.

"Sir! Please lie down and don't move!" The nurse skillfully held his shoulders and helped him lie back down on the pillow.

Lionel asked weakly, "Where am I?"

The nurse replied gently, “The hospital, sir. St. Thomas Hospital.”

Then she touched Lionel's forehead: "The fever has gone down a bit... You've been asleep for almost a whole day."

Lionel strained to recall: "Who brought me here?"

“Mr. Harold Thompson, he paid your admission deposit.”

As the nurse spoke, she fed him a few sips of warm water.

Lionel was relieved to hear that Harold Thompson had brought him.

Shortly after I lay down, I heard a steady, rhythmic footstep outside the ward; soon the door was pushed open, and a doctor walked in surrounded by a group of young people.

The doctor was tall and thin, around forty years old, with a gaunt face, high cheekbones, and sharp, focused eyes.

He went straight to Lionel's bedside, and the nurse quickly and respectfully stepped aside.

The doctor's voice was calm and clear: "Good morning, sir. Are you feeling better?"

Lionel managed a weak smile: "I'm... feeling better, thank you, doctor."

The doctor nodded, picked up the medical record hanging at the foot of the bed, and looked at it: "Mr. Lionel Sorel, French nationality."

Acute high fever, accompanied by severe chills, muscle pain, and weakness... um.

He put down the medical record and focused his gaze on Lionel again: "I am Dr. Joseph Bell, Professor of Surgery at the University of Edinburgh Medical School."

I am currently leading these young people in an exchange program at St. Thomas' Hospital.

Your condition was critical when you were admitted to the hospital, and I happened to be involved in your diagnosis.

Dr. Bell briefly examined Lionel's tongue: "Your condition is not complicated, but it came on suddenly."

Overwork, irregular eating habits, and London's terrible air—which we call 'epidemic air'—

It invaded your already tired body through your pores, causing this acute fever.

Don't worry, young people recover quickly. As long as you take quinine and fever reducers on time, get enough rest, and eat a clean diet, you'll recover soon.

His diagnosis and treatment plan were concise and clear, as if stating a fact that had already been established.

Then he asked Lionel, "Mr. Sorel, would you mind if I had my students learn how to diagnose using you as their subject?"

Lionel did not object; he simply closed his eyes.

Soon, he heard Dr. Bell ask the young students around him: "Gentlemen, this is a typical case of acute febrile illness caused by environmental discomfort, excessive fatigue, and infection with 'epidemic qi'."

Now, suppose this gentleman was brought in without the gentleman's accompaniment, and we had no way of knowing his identity. How would you, through observation, determine his basic condition, or even help determine the cause of his illness?

The students looked at each other, appearing somewhat nervous and hesitant.

They scrutinized Lionel, finding it difficult to discern anything particularly special about him.

One student tentatively said, "Sir... he looks very weak, as if he has been on a long journey?"

Dr. Bell commented casually, "Too vague." Another student noticed a detail: "His fingers...are very white and slender, as if he's never done manual labor?"

"That's better, keep going."

But then there was silence, and the students seemed to have found no more clues.

Dr. Bell shook his head slightly, seemingly somewhat disappointed, and then said, "Then, I will demonstrate."

He circled the hospital bed once before continuing, "This gentleman, although weak at the moment, has several basic characteristics that cannot be concealed."

"First, look at his skin tone and hair texture. His skin on his face and hands is relatively smooth, but not pampered pale.

The slight difference in skin tone, particularly around his wrists, compared to the skin covered by clothing, suggests he wasn't a natural city dweller and likely came from a rural background.

Bell then changed the subject: "His hands had long, slender fingers, neatly trimmed nails, and palms that lacked calluses from hard work."

Only on the inside of the first joint of the right middle finger is there a tiny, new callus-like bud, which is usually caused by prolonged pen-holding.

The students gasped softly and observed more closely.

Bell continued, "Second, look at his posture and muscle type. Even when he was bedridden, his neck and shoulders still appeared somewhat stiff, which is a common characteristic of long hours of desk work."

"Third, pay attention to his belongings. Although he changed into a hospital gown upon admission, among the few personal items he brought—on the cabinet over there—was a stack of manuscript paper and a portable ink bottle and quill pen, rather than the more common pencils."

The corners of the manuscript paper were worn, indicating that writing was not just work for him, but more likely a passion or professional necessity, and that his economic situation was at least moderate.

Dr. Bell concluded: "In summary, Mr. Sorel is a well-educated young gentleman from the French countryside or a small town."

He could be a journalist, a writer, a clerk, or a copyist.

Excessive fatigue lowered his resistance to the London plague, thus triggering this acute fever.

After Dr. Bell finished speaking, the ward fell silent, and the students were all dumbfounded.

Lionel couldn't help but ask, "That's mostly correct—but how did you determine I was French without Mr. Harold Thompson's introduction?"

Dr. Bell smiled and said, “Your head shape, to be precise—skull, sir.”

You have a 'short head' and a rounder crown—you're from the south of France, or at least your ancestors were.

Lionel was finally convinced: "I thought you had seen my work and heard of my name..."

Dr. Bell looked puzzled: "Are you very famous, Mr. Sorel?"

Lionel: "..." I should have known better than to say that.

Dr. Bell then turned to the students: “Observation and logic are the cornerstones of medical diagnosis, gentlemen. Never look at appearances or the patient’s own account; trust the details your eyes see.”

They will tell you the truth.

After speaking to the students, he said to Lionel, "Very good, Mr. Sorel. Thank you for your cooperation. Please rest assured and get some rest."

I'll come again this afternoon.

He then led the group of students, who were still savoring the experience and marveling at it, out of the ward.

After Dr. Bell left, the ward fell silent. Lionel was still processing Dr. Bell's performance, a feeling of déjà vu washing over him…

About fifteen minutes later, the ward door was gently pushed open again.

A young head peeked in, looked around, and then nimbly slipped inside.

He looked to be about twenty years old, tall and muscular, with thick curly hair and a beard.

He hurried to Lionel's bedside, lowering his voice but unable to hide his excitement: "Mr. Sorel! Please forgive my intrusion. Are you... are you feeling better?"

Lionel looked at him with some surprise: "I'm much better, thank you. You are...?"

The young man began his self-introduction with great respect: "My name is Arthur Conan Doyle, I am a student of Dr. Bell, and I have just come from Edinburgh."

I...I am your reader, and I really couldn't resist the urge to meet you alone.

Lionel: "..."

　Will I add an extra chapter this month if I reach 1,000 monthly votes?
　　
　
(End of this chapter)