Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical LifeDoyle, Arthur Conan
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Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical Life
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Medical fiction; Physicians -- Fiction
"Oh I how brave you are!"
"Of course, it will in any case be a very quiet affair. Arthur must
get the license. I do not approve of hole-and-corner marriages, but
where the gentleman has to take up an official position some allowance
must be made. We can have Lady Hilda Edgecombe, and the Trevors, and
the Grevilles, and I am sure that the Prime Minister would run down if
he could."
"And papa?"
"Oh, yes; he will come too, if he is well enough. We must wait until
Sir William goes, and, meanwhile, I shall write to Lord Arthur."
Half an hour had passed, and quite a number of notes had been dashed
off in the fine, bold, park-paling handwriting of the Lady Clara, when
the door clashed, and the wheels of the doctor's carriage were heard
grating outside against the kerb. The Lady Clara laid down her pen,
kissed her daughter, and started off for the sick-room. The Foreign
Minister was lying back in his chair, with a red silk handkerchief over
his forehead, and his bulbous, cotton-wadded foot still protruding upon
its rest.
"I think it is almost liniment time," said Lady Clara, shaking a blue
crinkled bottle. "Shall I put on a little?"
"Oh! this pestilent toe!" groaned the sufferer. "Sir William won't
hear of my moving yet. I do think he is the most completely obstinate
and pig-headed man that I have ever met. I tell him that he has
mistaken his profession, and that I could find him a post at
Constantinople. We need a mule out there."
"Poor Sir William!" laughed Lady Clara. "But how has he roused your
wrath?"
"He is so persistent-so dogmatic."
"Upon what point?"
"Well, he has been laying down the law about Ida. He has decreed, it
seems, that she is to go to Tangier."
"He said something to that effect before he went up to you."
"Oh, he did, did he?"
The slow-moving, inscrutable eye came sliding round to her.
Lady Clara's face had assumed an expression of transparent obvious
innocence, an intrusive candour which is never seen in nature save when
a woman is bent upon deception.
"He examined her lungs, Charles. He did not say much, but his
expression was very grave."
"Not to say owlish," interrupted the Minister.
"No, no, Charles; it is no laughing matter. He said that she must have
a change. I am sure that he thought more than he said. He spoke of
dulness and crepitation, and the effects of the African air. Then the
talk turned upon dry, bracing health resorts, and he agreed that
Tangier was the place. He said that even a few months there would work
a change."
"And that was all?"
"Yes, that was all."
Lord Charles shrugged his shoulders with the air of a man who is but
half convinced.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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