Henry Baker, At New York

One partner may consult another - James,         Here is a matter you must help me with,         It's coming to a head.         Well, to be plain,         And to begin at the beginning first,         I knew a woman up on Sixty-third,         Have known her since I got her a divorce,         Married, divorced, before - last night we quarreled,         I must do something, hear me and advise.         She is a woman notable for eyes         Bright for their oblong lights in them; they seem         Like crockery vases, rookwood, where the light         Shows spectrally almost in squares and circles.         Her skin is fair, nose hooked, of amorous flesh,         A feaster and a liver, thinks and plans         Of money, how to get it. And this husband         Whom she divorced last summer went away,         And left her to get on as best she could.         All legal matters settled, we went driving -         This story can be skipped.         Last night we dined,         Afterward went to her apartment. First         She told me at the dinner that her niece         Named Elenor Murray died some days ago.         I sensed what she was after - here's the point: -         She followed up the theme when we returned         To her apartment, where we quarreled. You see         I would not do her bidding, left her mad,         In silent wrath after some bitter words.         I managed her divorce as I have said,         Then I stepped in as lover, months had passed.         When Elenor Murray came here to New York,         I met her at the apartment of the aunt         Whose name is Margery Camp. Before, she said         Her niece was here, was happy and in love         But sorrowful for leaving, just the talk         That has no meaning till you see the subject         Or afterwards, perhaps; it passes in         One ear and out the other. Then at last         One afternoon I met this Elenor Murray         When I go up to call on Margery Camp.         The staging of the matter is like this:         The niece looks fagged, is sitting on the couch,         Has loosed her collar for her throat to feel         The air about it, for the day is hot.         And Margery Camp goes out, brings in a pitcher         Of absinthe cocktails, so we drink. I sit,         Begin to study what is done, and look         This Elenor Murray over, get the thought         That somehow Margery Camp has taken Elenor         In her control for something, has begun         To use her, manage her, is coiling her         With dominant will or cunning. Then I look,         See Margery Camp observing Elenor Murray,         Who drinks the absinthe, and in Margery's eyes         I see these parallelograms of light         Just like a vase of crockery, there she stands,         Her face like ivory, and laughs and shows         Her marvelous teeth, smooths with her shapely hands         The skirt upon her hips. Somehow I feel         She is a soul who watches passion work.         Then Elenor Murray rouses, gets her spirits         Out of the absinthe, rises and exclaims:         "I'm better now;" and Margery Camp speaks up,         Poor child, in intonation like a doll         That speaks from reeds of steel, no sympathy         Or meaning in the words. The interview         Seems spooky to me, cold and sinister.         We drink again and then we drink again.         And what with her fatigue and lowered spirits,         This Elenor Murray drifts in talk and mood         With so much drink. At last this Margery Camp         Says suddenly: "You'll have to help my niece,         There is a matter you must manage for her,         We've talked it over; in a day or two         Before she goes away, we'll come to you."         I took them out to dinner, after dinner         Drove Margery Camp to her apartment, then         Went down with Elenor Murray to her place.         Then in a day or two, one afternoon         Margery Camp and Elenor Murray came         Here to my office with a bundle, which         This Margery Camp was carrying, rather large.         And Margery Camp was bright and keen as winter.         But Elenor Murray seemed a little dull,         Abstracted as of drink, or thought perhaps.         After the greeting and preliminaries,         Margery said to Elenor: "Better tell         What we have come for, get it done and go."         Then Elenor Murray said: "Here are some letters,         I've tied them in this package, and I wish         To put them in a safety box, give you         One key and keep the other, leave with you         A sealed instruction, which, in case I die,         While over-seas, you may break open, read         And follow, if you will." She handed me         A writing signed by her which merely read         What I have told you - here it is - you see:         "When legal proof is furnished I am dead,         Break open the sealed letter which will give         Instruction for you." So I took the trust,         Went with these women to a vault and placed         The letters in the box, gave her a key,         Kept one myself. They left. At dinner time         I joined them, saw more evidence of the will         Of Margery Camp controlling Elenor's.         Which seemed in part an older woman's power         Against a younger woman's, and in part         Something less innocent. We ate and drank,         I took them to their places as before,         And didn't see this Elenor again.         But now last night when I see Margery         She says at once, "My niece is dead;" goes on         To say, no other than herself has care         Or interest in her, was estranged from father,         And mother too, herself the closest heart         In all the world, and therefore she must look         After the memory of the niece, and adds:         "She came to you through me, I picked you out         To do this business." So she went along         With this and that, advancing and retreating         To catch me, bind me. Well, I saw her game,         Sat non-committal, sipping wine, but keeping         The wits she hoped I'd lose, as I could see.         After the dinner we went to her place         And there she said these letters might contain         Something to smudge the memory of her niece,         She wished she had insisted on the plan         Of having one of the keys, the sealed instruction         Made out and left with her; being her aunt,         The closest heart in the world to Elenor Murray,         That would have been the right way. But she said         Her niece was willful and secretive, too,         Not over wise, but now that she was dead         It was her duty to reform the plan,         Do what was best, and take control herself.         So working to the point by devious ways         She said at last: "You must give me the key,         The sealed instruction: I'll go to the box,         And get the letters, do with them as Elenor         Directed in the letter; for I think,         Cannot believe it different, that my niece         Has left these letters with me, so directs         In that sealed letter." "Then if that be true,         Why give the key to me, the letter? - no         This is a trust, a lawyer would betray,         A sacred trust to do what you request."         I saw her growing angry. Then I added:         "I have no proof your niece is dead:" "My word         Is good enough," she answered, "we are friends,         You are my lover, as I thought; my word         Should be sufficient." And she kept at me         Until I said: "I can't give you the key,         And if I did they would not let you in,         You are not registered as a deputy         To use the key." She did not understand,         Did not believe me, but she tacked about,         And said: "You can do this, take me along         When you go to the vault and open the box,         And break the letter open which she gave."         I only answered: "If I find your niece         Has given these letters to you, you shall have         The letters, but I think the letters go         Back to the writer, and if that's the case,         I'll send them to the writer."             Here at last         She lost control, took off her mask and stormed:         "We'll see about it. You will scarcely care         To have the matter aired in court. I'll see         A lawyer, bring a suit and try it out,         And see if I, the aunt, am not entitled         To have my niece's letters and effects,         Whatever's in the package. I am tired         And cannot see you longer. Take five days         To think the matter over. If you come         And do what I request, no suit, but if         You still refuse, the courts can settle it."         And so I left her.             In a day or two         I read of Elenor Murray's death. It seems         The coroner investigates her death.         She died mysteriously. Well, then I break         The sealed instruction, look! I am to send         The package to Jane Fisher, in Chicago.         We know, of course, Jane Fisher did not write         The letters, that the letters are a man's.         What is the inference? Why, that Elenor Murray         Pretended to comply, obey her aunt,         Yet slipped between her fingers, did not wish         The aunt or me to know who wrote the letters.         Feigned full submission, frankness with the aunt,         Yet hid her secret, hid it from the aunt         Beyond her finding out, if I observe         The trust imposed, keep hands of Margery Camp         From getting at the letters.         Now two things:         Suppose the writer of the letters killed         This Elenor Murray, is somehow involved         In Elenor Murray's death? If that's the case,         Should not these letters reach the coroner?         To help enforce the law is higher trust         Than doing what a client has commanded.         And secondly, if Margery Camp should sue,         My wife will learn the secret, bring divorce.         Three days remain before the woman's threat         Is ripe to execute. Think over this.         We'll talk again - I really need advice....         *        *        *        *        *         So Hunter told the coroner. Then resumed         The matter was a simple thing: I said         To telegraph the coroner. You are right:         Those letters give a clue perhaps, your trust         Is first to see the law enforced. And yet         I saw he was confused and drinking too,         For fear his wife would learn of Margery Camp.         I added, for that matter open the box,         Take out the letters, find who wrote them, send         A telegram to the coroner giving the name         Of the writer of the letters. Well, he nodded,         Seemed to consent to anything I said.         And Hunter left me, leaving me in doubt         What he would do. And what is next? Next day         He's in the hospital and has pneumonia.         I take a cab to see him, but I find         He is too sick to see, is out of mind.         In three days he is dead. His wife comes in         And tells me worry killed him - knows the truth         About this Margery Camp, oh, so she said.         Had sent a lawyer to her husband asking         For certain letters of an Elenor Murray.         And that her husband stood between the fire         Of some exposure by this Margery Camp,         Or suffering these letters to be used         By Margery Camp against the writer for         A bit of money. This was Mrs. Hunter's         Interpretation. Well, the fact is clear         That Hunter feared this Margery Camp - was scared         About his wife who in some way had learned         just at this time of Margery Camp - I think         Was called up, written to. Between it all         Poor Hunter's worry, far too fast a life,         He broke and died. And now you know it all.         I've learned no client enters at your door         And nothing casual happens in the day         That may not change your life, or bring you death.         And Hunter in a liaison with Margery         Is brought within the scope of Elenor's         Life and takes his mortal hurt and dies.         *        *        *        *        *         So much for riffles in New York. We turn         Back to LeRoy and see the riffles there,         See all of them together. Loveridge Chase         Receives a letter from a New York friend,         A secret service man who trails and spies         On Henry Baker, knows about the letters,         And writes to Loveridge Chase and says to him:         "That Elenor Murray dying near LeRoy         Left letters in New York. I trailed the aunt         Of Elenor Murray, Margery Camp. Also         A lawyer, Henry Baker, who controls         A box with letters left by Elenor Murray -         So for the story. Why not join with me         And get these letters? There is money in it,         Perhaps, who knows? I work for Mrs. Hunter -         She wants the letters placed where they belong,         And wants the man who killed this Elenor Murray         Punished as he should be. Go see the coroner         And get the work of bringing back the letters."         And Chase came to the coroner and spoke: