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?"