The Strand Magazine: Volume VII, Issue 37. January, 1894.

The Strand Magazine: Volume VII, Issue 37.?by Edited by George Newnes

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January, 1894., by Edited by George Newnes This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Strand Magazine: Volume VII, Issue 37. January, 1894. An Illustrated Monthly
Author: Edited by George Newnes
Release Date: November 8, 2003 [EBook #10020]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE STRAND MAGAZINE
An Illustrated Monthly
EDITED BY GEORGE NEWNES
Vol. VII., Issue 37. January, 1894.
* * * * *

Contents.
Stories from the Diary of a Doctor. By the Authors of "The Medicine Lady." VII.--The Horror of Studley Grange.
The Queen of Holland. By Mary Spencer-Warren.
Zig-Zags at the Zoo. By A. G. Morrison. XIX.--Zig-Zag Batrachian.
The Helmet. From the French of Ferdinand Beissier.
The Music of Nature. By T. Camden Pratt.
Part II.
Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of Their Lives. Sir Henry Loch. Madame Belle Cole. The Lord Bishop of Peterborough. Lord Wantage. Sir Richard Temple, M.P.
A Terrible New Year's Eve. By Kathleen Huddleston.
Personal Reminiscences of Sir Andrew Clark. By E. H. Pitcairn.
Beauties: XIII.--Children.
The Signatures of Charles Dickens (with Portraits). By J. Holt Schooling.
The Mirror. From the French of George Japy.
Handcuffs. By Inspector Moser.
The Family Name. From the French of Henri Malin.
The Queer Side of Things-- Among the Freaks.--Major Microbe. Lamps of all Kinds and Times. The Two Styles.
* * * * *

Stories from the Diary of a Doctor.
By the Authors of "THE MEDICINE LADY."
VII.--THE HORROR OF STUDLEY GRANGE.
[Illustration: "THE HORROR OF STUDLEY GRANGE."]
I was in my consulting-room one morning, and had just said good-bye to the last of my patients, when my servant came in and told me that a lady had called who pressed very earnestly for an interview with me.
"I told her that you were just going out, sir," said the man, "and she saw the carriage at the door; but she begged to see you, if only for two minutes. This is her card."
I read the words, "Lady Studley."
"Show her in," I said, hastily, and the next moment a tall, slightly-made, fair-haired girl entered the room.
She looked very young, scarcely more than twenty, and I could hardly believe that she was, what her card indicated, a married woman.
The colour rushed into her cheeks as she held out her hand to me. I motioned her to a chair, and then asked her what I could do for her.
"Oh, you can help me," she said, clasping her hands and speaking in a slightly theatrical manner. "My husband, Sir Henry Studley, is very unwell, and I want you to come to see him--can you?--will you?"
"With pleasure," I replied. "Where do you live?"
"At Studley Grange, in Wiltshire. Don't you know our place?"
"I daresay I ought to know it," I replied, "although at the present moment I can't recall the name. You want me to come to see your husband. I presume you wish me to have a consultation with his medical attendant?"
"No, no, not at all. The fact is, Sir Henry has not got a medical attendant. He dislikes doctors, and won't see one. I want you to come and stay with us for a week or so. I have heard of you through mutual friends--the Onslows. I know you can effect remarkable cures, and you have a great deal of tact. But you can't possibly do anything for my husband unless you are willing to stay in the house and to notice his symptoms."
[Illustration: "LADY STUDLEY SPOKE WITH GREAT EMPHASIS."]
Lady Studley spoke with great emphasis and earnestness. Her long, slender hands were clasped tightly together. She had drawn off her gloves and was bending forward in her chair. Her big, childish, and somewhat restless blue eyes were fixed imploringly on my face.
"I love my husband," she said, tears suddenly filling them--"and it is dreadful, dreadful, to see him suffer as he does. He will die unless someone comes to his aid. Oh, I know I am asking an immense thing, when I beg of you to leave all your patients and come to the country. But we can pay. Money is no object whatever to us. We can, we will, gladly pay you for your services."
"I must think the matter over," I said. "You flatter me by wishing for me, and by believing that I can render you assistance, but I cannot take a step of this kind in a hurry. I will write to you by to-night's post if you will give me your address. In the meantime, kindly tell me some of the symptoms of Sir Henry's malady."
"I fear it