"Is there a problem?" Seeing the examination stall, Professor Fernand stepped closer to ask.
Kraft didn't answer right away. Instead, he extended the percussion farther down and compared it with his memory. Yet apart from the spot directly beneath the inferior angle of the scapula, the sounds at every other site were essentially the same as before.
It made no sense. He could have accepted a slight difference in position due to breathing, but if percussion at the same spot produced completely opposite results twice, then either his memory or his common sense had to be insulted.
"I can't understand it. The sound here is different from before."
"What does that mean?" As the steward, Wilbert seemed far more anxious than the Duke himself. Whether from confidence in his own body or simple indifference, the patient merely murmured, "Oh?"
Kraft realized he ought to explain the purpose and principles of the examination to his colleague and the patient, lest the lack of information give them the impression that "it's no big deal."
"It's like judging whether there's a hidden door or secret room behind a wall by tapping and listening to the echo. Different substances produce completely different sounds when struck with the right technique."
"Normally, the lungs, being loose and lightweight organs, should produce a resonant sound when percussed—but not one so hollow that it sounds as if there's nothing there. To be precise, it should sound like this." He tapped over the Duke's healthy lung, demonstrating the pleasantly resonant note.
"But Consumption is a terrible disease. It gradually eats away at the lungs, forming large lesions. Once the damaged tissue decays, dissolves, and is expelled, it leaves cavities—in other words, 'secret rooms behind the wall.' When tapped, they sound like hollow objects, like drums or urns."
Kraft tapped