DR. TRACE TO THE CORONER
I cannot tell you, Coroner, the cause Of death of Elenor Murray, not until My chemical analysis is finished. Here is the woman's heart sealed in this jar, I weighed it, weight nine ounces, if she had A hemolysis, cannot tell you now What caused the hemolysis. Since you say She took no castor oil, that you can learn From Irma Leese, or any witness, still A chemical analysis may show The presence of ricin,--and that she took A dose of oil not pure. Her throat betrayed Slight inflammation; but in brief, I wait My chemical analysis.
Let's exclude The things we know and narrow down the facts. She lay there by the river, death had come Some twenty hours before. No stick or stone, No weapon near her, bottle, poison box, No bruise upon her, in her mouth no dust, No foreign bodies in her nostrils, neck Without a mark, no punctures, cuts or scars Upon her anywhere, no water in lungs, No mud, sand, straws or weeds in hands, the nails Clean, as if freshly manicured.
Again No evidence of rape. I first examined The genitals _in situ_, found them sound. The girl had lived, was not a virgin, still Had temperately indulged, and not at all In recent months, no evidence at all Of conjugation willingly or not, The day of death. But still I lifted out The ovaries, fallopian tubes and uterus, The vagina and vulvae. Opened up The mammals, found no milk. No pregnancy Existed, sealed these organs up to test For poison later, as we doctors know Sometimes a poison's introduced _per vaginam_.
I sealed the brain up too, shall make a test Of blood and serum for urea; death Comes suddenly from that, you find no lesion, Must take a piece of brain and cut it up, Pour boiling water on it, break the brain To finer pieces, pour the water off, Digest the piece of brain in other water, Repeat four times, the solutions mix together, Dry in an oven, treat with ether, at last The residue put on a slide of glass With nitric acid, let it stand awhile, Then take your microscope--if there's urea You'll see the crystals--very beautiful! A cobra's beautiful, but scarce can kill As quick as these.
Likewise I have sealed up The stomach, liver, kidneys, spleen, intestines, So many poisons have no microscopic Appearance that convinces, opium, Hyoscyamus, belladonna fool us; But as the stomach had no inflammation, It was not chloral, ether took her off, Which we can smell, to boot. But I can find Strychnia, if it killed her; though you know That case in England sixty years ago, Where the analysis did not disclose Strychnia, though they hung a man for giving That poison to a fellow.
To recur I'm down to this: Perhaps a hemolysis-- But what produced it? If I find no ricin I turn to streptococcus, deadly snake, Or shall I call him tiger? For I think The microscopic world of living things Is just a little jungle, filled with tigers, Snakes, lions, what you will, with teeth and claws, The perfect miniatures of these monstrous foes. Sweet words come from the lips and tender hands Like Elenor Murray's, minister, nor know The jungle has been roused in throat or lungs; And shapes venene begin to crawl and eat The ruddy apples of the blood, eject Their triple venomous excreta in The channels of the body.
There's the heart, Which may be weakened by a streptococcus. But if she had a syncope and fell She must have bruised her body or her head. And if she had a syncope, was held up, Who held her up? That might have cost her life: To be held up in syncope. You know You lay a person down in syncope, And oftentimes the heart resumes its beat. Perhaps she was held up until she died, Then laid there by the river, so no bruise. So many theories come to me. But again, I say to you, look for a man. Run down All clues of Gregory Wenner. He is dead-- Loss of a building drives to suicide-- The papers say, but still it may be true He was with Elenor Murray when she died, Pushed her, we'll say, or struck her in a way To leave no mark, a tap upon the heart That shocked the muscles more or less obscure That bind the auricles and ventricles, And killed her. Then he flies away in fear, Aghast at what he does, and kills himself. Look for a man, I say. It must be true, She went so secretly to walk that morning To meet a man--why would she walk alone?
So while you hunt the man, I'll look for ricin, And with my chemicals end up the search. I never saw a heart more beautiful, Just look at it. We doctors all agreed This Elenor Murray might have lived to ninety Except for jungles, poison, sudden shock. I take my bottle with the heart of Elenor And go about my way. It beat in France, It beat for France and for America, But what is truer, somewhere was a man For whom it beat!
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When Irma Leese, the Aunt of Elenor Murray, Appeared before the coroner she told Of Elenor Murray's visit, of the morning She left to walk, was never seen again. And brought the coroner some letters sent By Elenor from France. What follows now Is what the coroner, or the jury heard From Irma Leese, from letters drawn--beside The riffle that the death of Elenor Murray Sent round the life of Irma Leese, which spread To Tokio and touched a man, the son Of Irma Leese's sister, dead Corinne, The mother of this man in Tokio.