Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical Life Story 9 - The Case of Lady Sannox

Subrata Urval (0:00)

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Round the Red Lamp by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Section 10 The Case of Lady Sannix.

The relations between Douglas Stone and the notorious Lady Sannix were very well known, both among the fashionable circles of which she was a brilliant member, and the scientific bodies, which numbered him among their most illustrious confreres. There was naturally, therefore, a very widespread interest, when it was announced one morning that the Lady had absolutely and forever taken the veil, and that the world would see her no more. When, at the very tale of this rumor, there came the assurance that the celebrated operating surgeon, the man of steel nerves, had been found in the morning by his valet, seated on one side of his bed, smiling pleasantly upon the universe, with both legs jammed into one side of his breeches, and his great brain about as valuable as a capful of porridge, the matter was strong enough to give quite a little thrill of interest to folk who had never hoped that their jaded nerves were capable of such a sensation.

Douglas Stone in his prime was one of the most remarkable men in England. Indeed, he could hardly be said to have ever reached his prime, for he was but nine and thirty at the time of this little incident. Those who knew him best were aware that, famous as he was as a surgeon, he might have succeeded with even greater rapidity in any of a dozen lines of life. He could have cut his way to fame as a soldier, struggled to it as an explorer, bullied for it in the courts, or built it out of stone and iron as an engineer. He was born to be great, for he could plan what another man dare not do, and he could do what another man dare not plan. In surgery, none could follow him. His nerve, his judgment, his intuition were things apart. Again and again, his knife cut away death, but grazed the very springs of life in doing it, until his assistants were as white as the patient. His energy, his audacity, his full-blooded self-confidence, does not the memory of them still linger to the south of Marilbone Road and the north of Oxford Street? His vices were as magnificent as his virtues, and infinitely more picturesque. Large as was his income, and it was the third-largest of all professional men in London, it was far beneath the luxury of his living. Deep in his complex nature lay a rich vein of sensualism, at the sport of which he placed all the prizes of his life. The eye, the ear, the touch, the palate, all were his masters. The bouquet of old vintages, the scent of rare exotics, the curves and tints of the daintiest potteries of Europe. It was to these that the quick-running stream of gold was transformed.

And then there came his sudden mad passion for Lady Sannix, when a single interview with two challenging glances and a whispered word set him ablaze. She was the loveliest woman in London and the only one to him. He was one of the handsomest men in London, but not the only one to her. She had a liking for new experiences and was gracious to most men who wooed her. It may have been cause or it may have been effect that Lord Sannix looked fifty, though he was but six and thirty.

He was a quiet, silent, neutral-tinted man, this lord, with thin lips and heavy eyelids, much given to gardening and full of homelike habits. He had at one time been fond of acting, had even rented a theatre in London, and on its boards had first seen Miss Marion Dawson, to whom he had offered his hand, his title, and the third of a county.

Since his marriage, this early hobby had become distasteful to him. Even in private theatricals, it was no longer possible to persuade him to exercise the talent which he had often shown that he possessed. He was happier with a spud and a watering can among his orchids and chrysanthemums.

It was quite an interesting problem, whether he was absolutely devoid of sense or miserably wanting in spirit. Did he know his ladies' ways and condone them, or was he a mere blind doting fool? It was a point to be discussed over the teacups and snug little drawing rooms, or with the aid of a cigar in the bow windows of clubs.

Bitter and plain were the comments among men upon his conduct. There was but one who had a good verge to say for him, and he was the most silent member in the smoking room. He had seen him break in a horse at the university, and it seemed to have left an impression upon his mind. But when Douglas Stone became the favourite, all doubts as to Lord Sannox's knowledge or ignorance were set forever at rest. There was no subterfuge about Stone. In his high-handed, impetuous fashion, he set all caution and discretion at defiance. The scandal became notorious. A learned body intimated that his name had been struck from the list of its vice presidents. Two friends implored him to consider his professional credit. He cursed them all three, and spent forty guineas on a bangle to take with him to the lady. He was at her house every evening, and she drove in his carriage in the afternoons. There was not an attempt on either side to conceal their relations. But there came at last a little incident to interrupt them.