LOVERIDGE CHASE
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ere is the secret of the death of Elenor,From what I learn of her, from what I knowIn living, knowing women, I am clearAbout this Elenor Murray. Give me powerTo get the letters, power to give a bondTo indemnify the company, for you knowLetters belong to him who writes the letters;And if the company is given bondIt will surrender them, and then you'll knowWhat man she loved, this Gregory Wenner orSome other man, and if some other man,Whether he caused her death. The coronerAnd Loveridge Chase sat in the coroner's officeAnd talked the matter over. And the coroner,Who knew this Loveridge Chase, was wonderingWhy Loveridge Chase had taken up the workOf secret service, followed it, and asked,"How did you come to give your brains to this,Who could do other things?" And Loveridge said:"A woman made me, I went round the worldAs jackie once, was brought into this worldBy a mother good and wise, but took from her,My father, someone, sense of chivalryToo noble for this world, a pity too,Abused too much by women. I came back,Was hired in a bank; had I gone onBy this time had been up in banking circles,But something happened. You can guess, I thinkIt was a woman, was my wife Leone.It matters nothing here, except I knewThis Elenor Murray through my wife. These twoWere schoolmates, even chums. I'll get these lettersIf you commission me. The fact is this:I think this Elenor Murray and LeoneWere kindred spirits, and it does me goodNow that I'm living thus without a wifeTo ferret out this matter of Elenor Murray,Perhaps this way, or somewhere on the way,Find news of my Leone; what life she lives,And where she is. I'm curious still, you see."Then Coroner Merival, who had not heardOf Elenor Murray's letters in New YorkBefore this talk of Loveridge Chase, who heardThis story and analysis of LeoneMixed in with other talk, and got a lightOn Elenor Murray, said: "I know your work,Know you as well, have confidence in you,Make ready to go, and bring the letters back." And on the day that Loveridge Chase departsTo get the letters in New York, Bernard,A veteran of Belleau, married that dayTo Amy Whidden, on a lofty duneAt Millers, Indiana, with his bride--Long quiet, tells her something of the war.These soldiers cannot speak what they have lived.But Elenor Murray helps him; for the talkOf Elenor Murray runs the rounds, so manyStations whence the talk is sent:--the menOr women who had known her, came in touchSomehow with her. These newly wedded twoGo out to see blue water, yellow sand,And watch the white caps pat the sky, and hearThe intermittent whispers of the waves.And here Bernard, the soldier, tells his brideOf Elenor Murray and their days at Nice:
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