“What I meant to ask you,” he began, “the case in my room had died just before I got here; have there been many deaths, since you came?”

“Several, certainly,” answered Joachim. “But they are very discreetly managed, you understand; you hear nothing of them, or only by chance afterwards; everything is kept strictly private when there is a death, out of regard for the other patients, especially the ladies, who might easily get a shock. You don’t notice it, even when somebody dies next door. The coffin is brought very early in the morning, while you are asleep, and the person in question is fetched away at a suitable time too⁠—for instance, while we are eating.”

“H’m,” said Hans Castorp, and continued to draw. “I see. That sort of thing goes on behind the scenes, then.”

“Yes⁠—for the most part. But lately⁠—let me see, wait a minute, it might be possibly eight weeks ago⁠—”

“Then you can hardly say lately,” Hans Castorp pounced on him crisply.