Diana Marburg, The Oracle of Maddox Street

Today, a classic mystery story you may not have read, ‘The Dead Hand’ (1902) by L. T. Meade & Robert Eustace. And why do we feature this? Because we have oft bemoaned the lack of female occult detectives and psychic investigators in the early supernatural canon, and because this particular tale is harder to find than many. As it is currently Women in Horror Month, it seemed especially appropriate to present this, which was co-authored by a woman, Elizabeth Thomasina Meade Smith (1844–1914), and which features Diana Marburg, one of only a tiny handful of classic female occult detectives.

In saying such, we bow to our scholarly colleague Tim Prasil, who would describe Marburg as a ‘divining detective’, in that she uses unusual techniques – mostly palmistry – to solve quite practical crimes and mysteries. That she is ‘modern’ rather than Gothic is a relief – in one story she discusses the relevance of fingerprint science and even employs it, placing her firmly in the new Edwardian world.

For enthusiasts of the supernatural/strange mystery field, the team of L. T. Meade & Robert Eustace offers many gems. More details of their work can be found in our longer article http://greydogtales.com/blog/master-madame-detectives-l-t-meade/ Therein you will also find a link to Tim’s Giving Up the Ghosts anthology, which includes the other two Marburg stories, as well as thirteen other tales of strange detectives from further period authors.

The Marburg tales are rather enjoyable, and it’s a shame there weren’t more. For your interest and pleasure, we have made a transcription of the original ‘The Dead Hand’, from Pearson’s magazine, 1902, and provided a downloadable pdf version. Any mistakes are probably ours.

Note that Marburg would be an interesting candidate for our forthcoming Sherlock Holmes and the Occult Detectives III, coming from Belanger Books – details here:

http://greydogtales.com/blog/sherlock-holmes-and-the-occult-detectives-iii/

THE DEAD HAND

(Being the First of the Experiences of the Oracle of Maddox Street)

By L. T. Meade & Robert Eustace

My name is Diana Marburg. I am a palmist by profession. Occult phenomena, spiritualism, clairvoyance, and many other strange mysteries of the unseen world, have, from my earliest years, excited my keen interest.

Being blessed with abundant means, I attended in my youth many foreign schools of thought. I was a pupil of Lewis, Darling, Braid and others. I studied Reichenbach and Mesmer, and, finally, started my career as a thought reader and palmist in Maddox Street.

Now I live with a brother, five years my senior. My brother Rupert is an athletic Englishman, and also a barrister, with a rapidly growing practice. He loves and pities me—he casts over me the respectability of his presence, and wonders at what he calls my lapses from sanity. He is patient, however, and when he saw that in spite of all expostulation I meant to go my own way, he ceased to try to persuade me against my inclinations.

Gradually the success of my reading of the lines of the human hand brought me fame— my prophecies turned out correct, my intuition led me to right conclusions, and I was sought after very largely by that fashionable world which always follows anything new. I became a favorite in society, and was accounted both curious and bizarre.

On a certain evening in late July, I attended Lady Fortescue’s reception in Curzon Street. I was ushered into a small ante-room which was furnished with the view of adding to the weird effect of my own appearance and words. I wore an Oriental costume, rich in color and bespangled with sparkling gems. On my head I had twisted a Spanish scarf, my arms were bare to the elbows, and my dress open at the throat. Being tall, dark, and, I believe, graceful, my quaint dress suited me well.

Lady Fortescue saw me for a moment on my arrival, and inquired if I had everything I was likely to want. As she stood by the door she turned.

“I expect, Miss Marburg, that you will have a few strange clients to-night. My guests come from a varied and ever widening circle, and to-night all sorts and conditions of men will be present at my reception.” She left me, and soon afterwards those who wished to inquire of Fate appeared before me one by one.

Towards the close of the evening a tall, dark man was ushered into my presence. The room was shadowy, and I do not think he could see me at once, although I observed him quite distinctly. To the ordinary observer he doubtless appeared as a well set up man of the world, but to me he wore quite a different appearance. I read fear in his eyes, and irresolution, and at the same time cruelty round his lips.

He glanced at me as if he meant to defy any message I might have for him, and yet at the same time was obliged to yield to an overpowering curiosity. 1 asked him his name, which he gave me at once.

“Philip Harman,” he said; “have you ever heard of me before?”

“Never,” I answered.

“I have come here because you are the fashion, Miss Marburg, and because many of Lady Fortescue’s guests are flocking to this room to learn something of their future. Of course you cannot expect me to believe in your strange art, nevertheless, I shall be glad if you will look at my hand and tell me what you see there.”

As he spoke he held out his hand. I noticed that it trembled. Before touching it I looked full at him. “If you have no faith in me, why do you trouble to come here?” I asked.

“Curiosity brings me to you,” he answered. “Will you grant my request or not?”

“I will look at your hand first if I may.”

I took it in mine. It was a long, thin hand, with a certain hardness about it. I turned the palm upward and examined it through a powerful lens. As I did so I felt my heart beat wildly and something of the fear in Philip Harman’s eyes was communicated to me. I dropped the hand, shuddering inwardly as I did so…