“Yes,” answered Philip.

“Where’s the lecture room, d’you know?  It’s getting on for eleven.”

“We’d better try to find it.”

They walked out of the museum into a long, dark corridor, with the walls painted in two shades of red, and other youths walking along suggested the way to them.  They came to a door marked Anatomy Theatre.  Philip found that there were a good many people already there.  The seats were arranged in tiers, and just as Philip entered an attendant came in, put a glass of water on the table in the well of the lecture-room and then brought in a pelvis and two thigh-bones, right and left.  More men entered and took their seats and by eleven the theatre was fairly full.  There were about sixty students.  For the most part they were a good deal younger than Philip, smooth-faced boys of eighteen, but there were a few who were older than he:  he noticed one tall man, with a fierce red moustache, who might have been thirty; another little fellow with black hair, only a year or two younger; and there was one man with spectacles and a beard which was quite gray.

The lecturer came in, Mr. Cameron, a handsome man with white hair and clean-cut features.  He called out the long list of names.  Then he made a little speech.  He spoke in a pleasant voice, with well-chosen words, and he seemed to take a discreet pleasure in their careful arrangement.  He suggested one or two books which they might buy and advised the purchase of a skeleton.  He spoke of anatomy with enthusiasm:  it was essential to the study of surgery; a knowledge of it added to the appreciation of art.  Philip pricked up his ears.  He heard later that Mr. Cameron lectured also to the students at the Royal Academy.  He had lived many years in Japan, with a post at the University of Tokyo, and he flattered himself on his appreciation of the beautiful.

“You will have to learn many tedious things,” he finished, with an indulgent smile, “which you will forget the moment you have passed your final examination, but in anatomy it is better to have learned and lost than never to have learned at all.”

He took up the pelvis which was lying on the table and began to describe it.  He spoke well and clearly.

At the end of the lecture the boy who had spoken to Philip in the pathological museum and sat next to him in the theatre suggested that they should go to the dissecting-room.  Philip and he walked along the corridor again, and an attendant told them where it was.  As soon as they entered Philip understood what the acrid smell was which he had noticed in the passage.  He lit a pipe.  The attendant gave a short laugh.

“You’ll soon get used to the smell.  I don’t notice it myself.”

He asked Philip’s name and looked at a list on the board.

“You’ve got a leg—­number four.”

Philip saw that another name was bracketed with his own.

“What’s the meaning of that?” he asked.