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  The Case of Lady Sannox

  The relations between Douglas Stone and the notorious Lady Sannox werevery well known both among the fashionable circles of which she was abrilliant member, and the scientific bodies which numbered him amongtheir most illustrious confreres. There was naturally, therefore, avery widespread interest when it was announced one morning that thelady had absolutely and for ever taken the veil, and that the worldwould see her no more. When, at the very tail of this rumour, therecame the assurance that the celebrated operating surgeon, the man ofsteel nerves, had been found in the morning by his valet, seated on oneside of his bed, smiling pleasantly upon the universe, with both legsjammed into one side of his breeches and his great brain about asvaluable as a cap full of porridge, the matter was strong enough togive quite a little thrill of interest to folk who had never hoped thattheir jaded nerves were capable of such a sensation.

  Douglas Stone in his prime was one of the most remarkable men inEngland. Indeed, he could hardly be said to have ever reached hisprime, for he was but nine-and-thirty at the time of this littleincident. Those who knew him best were aware that famous as he was asa surgeon, he might have succeeded with even greater rapidity in any ofa 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 builtit out of stone and iron as an engineer. He was born to be great, forhe could plan what another man dare not do, and he could do whatanother man dare not plan. In surgery none could follow him. Hisnerve, his judgement, his intuition, were things apart. Again andagain his knife cut away death, but grazed the very springs of life indoing it, until his assistants were as white as the patient. Hisenergy, his audacity, his full-blooded self-confidence--does not thememory of them still linger to the south of Marylebone Road and thenorth of Oxford Street?

  His vices were as magnificent as his virtues, and infinitely morepicturesque. Large as was his income, and it was the third largest ofall professional men in London, it was far beneath the luxury of hisliving. Deep in his complex nature lay a rich vein of sensualism, atthe sport of which he placed all the prizes of his life. The eye, theear, the touch, the palate, all were his masters. The bouquet of oldvintages, the scent of rare exotics, the curves and tints of thedaintiest potteries of Europe, it was to these that the quick-runningstream of gold was transformed. And then there came his sudden madpassion for Lady Sannox, when a single interview with two challengingglances and a whispered word set him ablaze. She was the loveliestwoman in London and the only one to him. He was one of the handsomestmen in London, but not the only one to her. She had a liking for newexperiences, and was gracious to most men who wooed her. It may havebeen cause or it may have been effect that Lord Sannox looked fifty,though he was but six-and-thirty.

  He was a quiet, silent, neutral-tinted man, this lord, with thin lipsand heavy eyelids, much given to gardening, and full of home-likehabits. He had at one time been fond of acting, had even rented atheatre 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 his early hobby had become distasteful to him. Evenin private theatricals it was no longer possible to persuade him toexercise the talent which he had often showed that he possessed. Hewas happier with a spud and a watering-can among his orchids andchrysanthemums.

  It was quite an interesting problem whether he was absolutely devoid ofsense, or miserably wanting in spirit. Did he know his lady's ways andcondone them, or was he a mere blind, doting fool? It was a point to bediscussed over the teacups in snug little drawing-rooms, or with theaid of a cigar in the bow windows of clubs. Bitter and plain were thecomments among men upon his conduct. There was but one who had a goodword to say for him, and he was the most silent member in thesmoking-room. He had seen him break in a horse at the University, andit seemed to have left an impression upon his mind.

  But when Douglas Stone became the favourite all doubts as to LordSannox's knowledge or ignorance were set for ever at rest. There was nosubterfuge about Stone. In his high-handed, impetuous fashion, he setall caution and discretion at defiance. The scandal became notorious.A learned body intimated that his name had been struck from the list ofits vice-presidents. Two friends implored him to consider hisprofessional credit. He cursed them all three, and spent forty guineason a bangle to take with him to the lady. He was at her house everyevening, and she drove in his carriage in the afternoons. There wasnot an attempt on either side to conceal their relations; but therecame at last a little incident to interrupt them.

  It was a dismal winter's night, very cold and gusty, with the windwhooping in the chimneys and blustering against the window-panes. Athin spatter of rain tinkled on the glass with each fresh sough of thegale, drowning for the instant the dull gurgle and drip from the eaves.Douglas Stone had finished his dinner, and sat by his fire in thestudy, a glass of rich port upon the malachite table at his elbow. Ashe raised it to his lips, he held it up against the lamplight, andwatched with the eye of a connoisseur the tiny scales of beeswing whichfloated in its rich ruby depths. The fire, as it spurted up, threwfitful lights upon his bald, clear-cut face, with its widely-openedgrey eyes, its thick and yet firm lips, and the deep, square jaw, whichhad something Roman in its strength and its animalism. He smiled fromtime to time as he nestled back in his luxurious chair. Indeed, he hada right to feel well pleased, for, against the advice of sixcolleagues, he had performed an operation that day of which only twocases were on record, and the result had been brilliant beyond allexpectation. No other man in London would have had the daring to plan,or the skill to execute, such a heroic measure.

  But he had promised Lady Sannox to see her that evening and it wasalready half-past eight. His hand was outstretched to the bell toorder the carriage when he heard the dull thud of the knocker. Aninstant later there was the shuffling of feet in the hall, and thesharp closing of a door.

  "A patient to see you, sir, in the consulting room," said the butler.

  "About himself?"

  "No, sir; I think he wants you to go out."

  "It is too late," cried Douglas Stone peevishly. "I won't go."

  "This is his card, sir."

  The butler presented it upon the gold salver which had been given tohis master by the wife of a Prime Minister.

  "'Hamil Ali, Smyrna.' Hum! The fellow is a Turk, I suppose."

  "Yes, sir. He seems as if he came from abroad, sir. And he's in aterrible way."

  "Tut, tut! I have an engagement. I must go somewhere else. But I'llsee him. Show him in here, Pim."

  A few moments later the butler swung open the door and ushered in asmall and decrepit man, who walked with a bent back and with theforward push of the face and blink of the eyes which goes with extremeshort sight. His face was swarthy, and his hair and beard of thedeepest black. In one hand he held a turban of white muslin stripedwith red, in the other a small chamois-leather bag.

  "Good evening," said Douglas Stone, when the butler had closed thedoor. "You speak English, I presume?"

  "Yes, sir. I am from Asia Minor, but I speak English when I speakslow."

  "You wanted me to go out, I understand?"

  "Yes, sir. I wanted very much that you should see my wife."

  "I could come in the morning, but I have an engagement which preventsme from seeing your wife tonight."

  The Turk's answer was a singular one. He pulled the string whichclosed the mouth of the chamois-leather bag, and poured a flood of goldon to the table.

  "There are one hundred pounds there," said he, "and I promise you thatit will not take you an hour. I have a cab ready at the door."

  Douglas Stone glanced at his watch. An hour would not make it too lateto visit Lady Sannox. He had been there later. And the fee was anextraordinarily high one. He had been pressed by his creditors lately,and he could not afford to let such a chance pass. He would go.

  "What is the case?" he asked.

&n
bsp; "Oh, it is so sad a one! So sad a one! You have not, perhaps heard ofthe daggers of the Almohades?"

  "Never."

  "Ah, they are Eastern daggers of a great age and of a singular shape,with the hilt like what you call a stirrup. I am a curiosity dealer,you understand, and that is why I have come to England from Smyrna, butnext week I go back once more. Many things I brought with me, and Ihave a few things left, but among them, to my sorrow, is one of thesedaggers."

  "You will remember that I have an appointment, sir," said the surgeon,with some irritation; "pray confine yourself to the necessary details."

  "You will see that it is necessary. Today my wife fell down in a faintin the room in which I keep my wares, and she cut her lower lip uponthis cursed dagger of Almohades."

  "I see," said Douglas Stone, rising. "And you wish me to dress thewound?"

  "No, no, it is worse than that."

  "What then?"

  "These daggers are poisoned."

  "Poisoned!"

  "Yes, and there is no man, East or West, who can tell now what is thepoison or what the cure. But all that is known I know, for my fatherwas in this trade before me, and we have had much to do with thesepoisoned weapons."

  "What are the symptoms?"

  "Deep sleep, and death in thirty hours."

  "And you say there is no cure. Why then should you pay me thisconsiderable fee?"

  "No drug can cure, but the knife may."

  "And how?"

  "The poison is slow of absorption. It remains for hours in the wound."

  "Washing, then, might cleanse it?"

  "No more than in a snake bite. It is too subtle and too deadly."

  "Excision of the wound, then?"

  "That is it. If it be on the finger, take the finger off. So said myfather always. But think of where this wound is, and that it is mywife. It is dreadful!"

  But familiarity with such grim matters may take the finer edge from aman's sympathy. To Douglas Stone this was already an interesting case,and he brushed aside as irrelevant the feeble objections of the husband.

  "It appears to be that or nothing," said he brusquely. "It is betterto lose a lip than a life."

  "Ah, yes, I know that you are right. Well, well, it is kismet, and itmust be faced. I have the cab, and you will come with me and do thisthing."

  Douglas Stone took his case of bistouries from a drawer, and placed itwith a roll of bandage and a compress of lint in his pocket. He mustwaste no more time if he were to see Lady Sannox.

  "I am ready," said he, pulling on his overcoat. "Will you take a glassof wine before you go out into this cold air?"

  His visitor shrank away, with a protesting hand upraised.

  "You forget that I am a Mussulman, and a true follower of the Prophet,"said he. "But tell me what is the bottle of green glass which you haveplaced in your pocket?"

  "It is chloroform."

  "Ah, that also is forbidden to us. It is a spirit, and we make no useof such things."

  "What! You would allow your wife to go through an operation without ananaesthetic?"

  "Ah! she will feel nothing, poor soul. The deep sleep has alreadycome on, which is the first working of the poison. And then I havegiven her of our Smyrna opium. Come, sir, for already an hour haspassed."

  As they stepped out into the darkness, a sheet of rain was driven inupon their faces, and the hall lamp, which dangled from the arm of amarble Caryatid, went out with a fluff. Pim, the butler, pushed theheavy door to, straining hard with his shoulder against the wind, whilethe two men groped their way towards the yellow glare which showedwhere the cab was waiting. An instant later they were rattling upontheir journey.

  "Is it far?" asked Douglas Stone.

  "Oh, no. We have a very little quiet place off the Euston Road."

  The surgeon pressed the spring of his repeater and listened to thelittle tings which told him the hour. It was a quarter past nine. Hecalculated the distances, and the short time which it would take him toperform so trivial an operation. He ought to reach Lady Sannox by teno'clock. Through the fogged windows he saw the blurred gas lampsdancing past, with occasionally the broader glare of a shop front. Therain was pelting and rattling upon the leathern top of the carriage,and the wheels swashed as they rolled through puddle and mud. Oppositeto him the white headgear of his companion gleamed faintly through theobscurity. The surgeon felt in his pockets and arranged his needles,his ligatures and his safety-pins, that no time might be wasted whenthey arrived. He chafed with impatience and drummed his foot upon thefloor.

  But the cab slowed down at last and pulled up. In an instant DouglasStone was out, and the Smyrna merchant's toe was at his very heel.

  "You can wait," said he to the driver.

  It was a mean-looking house in a narrow and sordid street. Thesurgeon, who knew his London well, cast a swift glance into theshadows, but there was nothing distinctive--no shop, no movement,nothing but a double line of dull, flat-faced houses, a double stretchof wet flagstones which gleamed in the lamplight, and a double rush ofwater in the gutters which swirled and gurgled towards the sewergratings. The door which faced them was blotched and discoloured, anda faint light in the fan pane above, it served to show the dust and thegrime which covered it. Above in one of the bedroom windows, there wasa dull yellow glimmer. The merchant knocked loudly, and, as he turnedhis dark face towards the light, Douglas Stone could see that it wascontracted with anxiety. A bolt was drawn, and an elderly woman with ataper stood in the doorway, shielding the thin flame with her gnarledhand.

  "Is all well?" gasped the merchant.

  "She is as you left her, sir."

  "She has not spoken?"

  "No, she is in a deep sleep."

  The merchant closed the door, and Douglas Stone walked down the narrowpassage, glancing about him in some surprise as he did so. There was nooil-cloth, no mat, no hat-rack. Deep grey dust and heavy festoons ofcobwebs met his eyes everywhere. Following the old woman up thewinding stair, his firm footfall echoed harshly through the silenthouse. There was no carpet.

  The bedroom was on the second landing. Douglas Stone followed the oldnurse into it, with the merchant at his heels. Here, at least, therewas furniture and to spare. The floor was littered and the cornerspiled with Turkish cabinets, inlaid tables, coats of chain mail,strange pipes, and grotesque weapons. A single small lamp stood upon abracket on the wall. Douglas Stone took it down, and picking his wayamong the lumber, walked over to a couch in the corner, on which lay awoman dressed in the Turkish fashion, with yashmak and veil. The lowerpart of the face was exposed, and the surgeon saw a jagged cut whichzigzagged along the border of the under lip.

  "You will forgive the yashmak," said the Turk. "You know our viewsabout women in the East."

  But the surgeon was not thinking about the yashmak. This was no longera woman to him. It was a case. He stooped and examined the woundcarefully.

  "There are no signs of irritation," said he. "We might delay theoperation until local symptoms develop."

  The husband wrung his hands in uncontrollable agitation.

  "Oh! sir, sir," he cried. "Do not trifle. You do not know. It isdeadly. I know, and I give you my assurance that an operation isabsolutely necessary. Only the knife can save her."

  "And yet I am inclined to wait," said Douglas Stone.

  "That is enough," the Turk cried, angrily. "Every minute is ofimportance, and I cannot stand here and see my wife allowed to sink.It only remains for me to give you my thanks for having come, and tocall in some other surgeon before it is too late."

  Douglas Stone hesitated. To refund that hundred pounds was no pleasantmatter. But of course if he left the case he must return the money.And if the Turk were right and the woman died, his position before acoroner might be an embarrassing one.

  "You have had personal experience of this poison?" he asked.

  "I have."

  "And you assure me that an operation is needf
ul."

  "I swear it by all that I hold sacred."

  "The disfigurement will be frightful."

  "I can understand that the mouth will not be a pretty one to kiss."

  Douglas Stone turned fiercely upon the man. The speech was a brutalone. But the Turk has his own fashion of talk and of thought, andthere was no time for wrangling. Douglas Stone drew a bistoury fromhis case, opened it and felt the keen straight edge with hisforefinger. Then he held the lamp closer to the bed. Two dark eyeswere gazing up at him through the slit in the yashmak. They were alliris, and the pupil was hardly to be seen.

  "You have given her a very heavy dose of opium."

  "Yes, she has had a good dose."

  He glanced again at the dark eyes which looked straight at his own.They were dull and lustreless, but, even as he gazed, a little shiftingsparkle came into them, and the lips quivered.

  "She is not absolutely unconscious," said he.

  "Would it not be well to use the knife while it will be painless?"

  The same thought had crossed the surgeon's mind. He grasped thewounded lip with his forceps, and with two swift cuts he took out abroad V-shaped piece. The woman sprang up on the couch with a dreadfulgurgling scream. Her covering was torn from her face. It was a facethat he knew. In spite of that protruding upper lip and that slobberof blood, it was a face that he knew, She kept on putting her hand upto the gap and screaming. Douglas Stone sat down at the foot of thecouch with his knife and his forceps. The room was whirling round, andhe had felt something go like a ripping seam behind his ear. Abystander would have said that his face was the more ghastly of thetwo. As in a dream, or as if he had been looking at something at theplay, he was conscious that the Turk's hair and beard lay upon thetable, and that Lord Sannox was leaning against the wall with his handto his side, laughing silently. The screams had died away now, and thedreadful head had dropped back again upon the pillow, but Douglas Stonestill sat motionless, and Lord Sannox still chuckled quietly to himself.

  "It was really very necessary for Marion, this operation," said he,"not physically, but morally, you know, morally."

  Douglas Stone stooped for yards and began to play with the fringe ofthe coverlet. His knife tinkled down upon the ground, but he stillheld the forceps and something more.

  "I had long intended to make a little example," said Lord Sannox,suavely. "Your note of Wednesday miscarried, and I have it here in mypocket-book. I took some pains in carrying out my idea. The wound, bythe way, was from nothing more dangerous than my signet ring."

  He glanced keenly at his silent companion, and cocked the smallrevolver which he held in his coat pocket. But Douglas Stone was stillpicking at the coverlet.

  "You see you have kept your appointment after all," said Lord Sannox.

  And at that Douglas Stone began to laugh. He laughed long and loudly.But Lord Sannox did not laugh now. Something like fear sharpened andhardened his features. He walked from the room, and he walked ontiptoe. The old woman was waiting outside.

  "Attend to your mistress when she awakes," said Lord Sannox.

  Then he went down to the street. The cab was at the door, and thedriver raised his hand to his hat.

  "John," said Lord Sannox, "you will take the doctor home first. He willwant leading downstairs, I think. Tell his butler that he has beentaken ill at a case."

  "Very good, sir."

  "Then you can take Lady Sannox home."

  "And how about yourself, sir?"

  "Oh, my address for the next few months will be Hotel di Roma, Venice.Just see that the letters are sent on. And tell Stevens to exhibit allthe purple chrysanthemums next Monday, and to wire me the result."