The Knick

Oh, come on.

Not your day there, Cleary.

All right, all right, all right.

Here's the deal... I get a bull's-eye

and Quinn buys a round.

The day you get a bull's-eye, Cleary,

is the day I suck off a horse.

All right, fuck the pint.

You're on.

Yeah!

Somebody find us a horny stallion!

Open up, Quinn. Come on, open up.

Come here. Hey, you forgot your hat.

- He thought I was serious. - Weren't you?

I'd have let him go before the horse drizzled him good.

Here you go.

_

- Doors. - Got it.

Mrs. Zygmunt.

I am Mr. Barrow,

director of the Knickerbocker Hospital.

My deepest condolences.

He fought the good fight.

He was cremated?

But he purchased a cemetery plot

only a few month ago.

It was his final wishes,

which he stated to me

just moments before his passing.

And out of respect

for your grief,

I've cut the cremation fee in half.

So we'll only be needing $5

before we release him to you.

You can waste your time scrubbing in if it suits you,

but I told you your role is to talk Gallinger

through the procedure, nothing more.

There will be no risk of ischemia,

as you will not need to clamp the descending aorta.

Nurse Pell, pulse, please.

- It's weak at 110. - Mm-hmm, that's the blockage.

Dr. Gallinger, locate a site

above the weakened arterial wall of the aneurism

that will be able to endure a small puncture

and subsequent manipulation.

Should be good there.

Once you make your incision,

blood will begin escaping the aorta.

Death by exsanguination is a risk,

but once inserted correctly, the clotting properties

of the galvanic wire will likely halt the danger.

All right, ready?

It's your mount.

What's next?

Edwards, what's next?

Edwards, the man is bleeding out.

Suction, Bertie.

Do you really have the courage to see this through?

And only taking the scalpel will do?

The pedal is more faint.

Carotid is eccentric now.

He'll break. He won't want a death on his head.

Perhaps you'll break first, Everett.

We don't have time for your nigger games.

More suction, Bertie.

I've lost the pedal pulse.

Water rises, air becomes scarce.

Which man can survive the longest?

- Care to wager, Bertie? - No, thank you.

Very well. Take the knife.

Now we have a show.

We won't be needing this.

We tried copper in Paris and it failed.

An alloy with silver is preferable

for proper conductivity and corrosion.

You were gonna let us use the wrong wire?

I never would have let you get that far without me.

You roughen it to increase the conductivity?

Seems to double the effectiveness.

I'll now feed the wire through

so that it coils in the aorta,

making good contact with the aneurism.

Pulse is weak.

If he dies because of your horseshit,

I am going to stab you in the throat

with my father's Union Army sword.

Union? I would have thought Confederate.

Need the electrical terminals.

Oh, allow me.

The way things have been working so well around here electricity-wise,

be my guest.

10 milliamperes, please.

- Now. - Careful you don't cook the man.

The pedal pulse is back.

Carotid is regular.

The aneurism is beginning to clot

and harden.

Looks like it's Mr. Gatchell's lucky day.

How long does he remain this way?

For an hour to ensure the clotting is complete

and the weak tissue has fully firmed up.

Then clip the wire, stitch the incision,

and close.

So I suppose we won't be needing your expertise any longer.

I suppose not.

Gallinger!

Idiot.

A surgeon needs his hands.

Help him up.

Everett, scrub out.

Next time, kick the man instead.

- Right on time, Mr. Speight. - Always.

Even got myself a new tie for the occasion.

It's very nice. Shall we call on her?

This place is no big deal.

I've seen nicer. After you, miss.

Miss Cornelia Robertson

and Mr. Jacob Speight of the New York City Health Department.

You're a mister, mister.

I'm Inspector Speight.

Cornelia, dear.

I'm so sorry about Daniel.

He was a good man.

The finest.

But I hear Cora is doing a bit better.

Yes, I was there this morning.

The doctors are feeling optimistic after the surgery.

Well, that is good news.

Yes. Inspector.

If you don't mind, I'll not shake your hand

owing to the disease and not knowing your hygiene habits.

You owe Mrs. Hemming an apology.

Miss Robertson, every human being has bowels

and every one of them evacuates those bowels.

It's how God made all of us no matter who.

What He didn't guarantee is that everyone would wash their hands after doing so.

It's how the fever found its way into this house

just like any other.

No offense meant.

- Would you care to sit down? - Oh, thank you.

You need something?

I was speaking with Mrs. Alford.

She was concerned that you hadn't been by to check on her.

I have sent Dr. Chickering.

He's kept me informed.

She believes you're avoiding her.

I'm doing no such thing. It's simple protocol.

She said that? That I'm avoiding her?

In so many words.

You seem to be enjoying the coffee.

- It's mighty good. - It's prepared Turkish style.

- The best. - It certainly is.

No fear of disease there?

The boiling keeps it safe.

Well, shall we get on with it?

I'm happy to help in whatever way I can.

Your husband and daughter took ill at the same time or staggered-like?

First Daniel in the evening,

then by the next morning, Cora as well.

Had your husband been away recently? Perhaps travelling?

Not recently.

What about at his place of work?

He doesn't work.

Didn't, I should say.

What about lady friends?

I have many.

I meant your husband.

Were you aware of anything he had going on on the side?

- Inspector! - You want the truffles,

you need the pig to get his nose a little dirty.

Perhaps the pig can at least try to be less of a swine.

I'll do my best.

So, Mrs. Hemming,

would you say your husband was...

an upstanding gentleman?

He was.

Hmm, I'm sure. And how many on staff?

Approximately 15.

A few come and go. We add on extras part-time.

Cooks, maids, as we need them.

Some come to our summer house with us,

others stay behind and keep this house ready for our return.

Peach melba?

You make your own ice cream?

I've never seen it outside a confectionary store.

Would you care for some, Inspector?

It was Daniel and Cora's favorite.

But it's not cooked.

Are you sure you're willing to risk it?

You're right, Miss Robertson.

I really did forget myself that time.

Back to the issue.

So, Mrs. Hemming,

I'll need to ask you about your toilet rituals.

"By the shores of Gitche Gumee,

by the shining Big-Sea-Water..."

"...stood the wigwam of Nokomis,

Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis."

I love the hand gestures.

This is how I was taught it in third grade elocution class.