The Poe Shadow

home.'

'We would expect nothing less, dear miss,' said Duponte.

When we were alone, I turned to Duponte. 'What shall we be able to learn from Snodgrass? Shall he not object strenuously to our pretending to have an appointment? And, monsieur, have you not said a hundred times we haven't any call to speak with witnesses?'

'Do you think that is why we've come? To see Snodgrass?'

I chafed a bit and made a point of not answering.

Duponte sighed. 'We are not here to see Dr. Snodgrass; we shall be able to read what we wish to know among the doctor's papers. This is no doubt why the Baron has sent Bonjour here, and why she cleverly ensured she would become the upstairs servant, to have a free hand in his study without observation. She seemed rather amused with our presence, and quite loose with the more established servant, which suggests she is nearly finished with her purpose here. Nor does she believe we have enough time to discover anything of importance among all these papers.'

'She's correct then!' I said, noticing that Snodgrass's study was awash in papers, in piles and stacks upon and around and inside the drawers of his office desk.

'Rethink your conclusions. Mademoiselle Bonjour has spent several weeks here now, and though she is a practiced thief, she would have no desire to risk that Dr. Snodgrass would notice the removal of any papers, which would foreclose any further search she might have wished to make. Thus she would have secretly copied in her own hand any items of interest and returned the originals to their place here for us to discover.'

'But how shall we be able to discover in a matter of minutes what has taken her weeks to compile?'

'Precisely because she has discovered them first. Any document or paper that has attracted a high degree of interest will have commanded her to remove it from its place, perhaps more than once. Certainly one would not casually notice this difference, but once knowing to look for it, we should have no trouble selecting and copying these particular documents.'

We went to work immediately. I took one side of the desk. Guided by Duponte, I searched for bent and misaligned corners, smudged ink, slight tears and folds, creases, and other indicators of recent handling among the various assortments and collections of documents and newspaper articles on all subjects, some with dates as much as twenty-five years old. Together we located many mentions of Poe that apparently had been examined by Bonjour in her time in this house, including a wealth of articles on the death of Poe that, if not quite as comprehensive as my own collection, was not unimpressive. Exhilarated and appalled, I found some rather more unique documents, three letters-the handwriting on which I recognized right away-from Edgar Poe to Dr. Snodgrass, dating from several years earlier.

In the first, Poe offered Snodgrass, then editing a magazine called The Notion, the rights to publish the second of the Dupin tales. 'Of course I could not afford to make you an absolute present of it,' wrote Poe firmly, 'but if you are willing to take it, I will say $40.' Yet Snodgrass turned him down, and Poe was declined by Graham's, too, before publishing 'The Mystery of Marie Roget' elsewhere.

In the second letter from Poe, the writer asked Dr. Snodgrass to place a favorable notice of Poe's work in a magazine then being edited by Neilson Poe, hoping that the latter would oblige him as his cousin. The attempt seems to have failed, and Poe wrote back in disgust. 'I felt that N. Poe would not insert the article,' he said. 'In your private ear, I believe him to be the bitterest enemy I have in the world.'

I rushed to share this. 'Neilson Poe, monsieur! Edgar Poe calls him his bitterest enemy… Didn't I guess at his position in all this!'

Our time being too short to discuss each item, Duponte directed me to quickly copy into my memorandum book all items about Poe that seemed important to me and, for that matter, he said after thinking it over, items that seemed unimportant to me as well. I duly noted the date of Poe's letter about Neilson: October 7, 1839- exactly ten years to the day before Poe's death!

'He is the more despicable in this,' wrote Poe of Neilson, 'since he makes loud professions of friendship.' And did Neilson not profess the same fables, when I met him? We were not only cousins, but friends, Mr. Clark. Neilson Poe, with his heart beating for his own literary fame, his hand holding a wife who was sister and near copy to Edgar's-had he wanted the life of the very man he so outwardly denigrated?

This was not all I found in letters from Poe to Snodgrass about his Baltimore relatives. Poe had declared Henry Herring (the first Poe relation to arrive at Ryan's) 'a man of unprincipled character.'

Duponte paused in the midst of opening every possible drawer in the room.

'Survey the streets from the other side of the house, Monsieur Clark. Watch out for Dr. Snodgrass's carriage. When he arrives, we must leave immediately, and ensure the Irish chambermaid says nothing of our visit.'

I studied Duponte's face for any hint at how we would accomplish the second objective. I walked to a chamber at the front of the house. Looking from the window, I found that a carriage was passing nearby, but after it seemed to check its speed briefly, the horses continued down High Street. Turning back toward the study, I found myself facing Bonjour, leaning upon the hearth so that her black dress and apron radiated with the flame of the fire.

'All right, mister? Anything that I can help you with while you wait for Master Snodgrass?' she asked, in imitation of the downstairs chambermaid's voice, and loud enough that she might hear. In a quieter tone, she commented, 'You see now that your friend is only a vulture on my master's investigation.'

'I am quite well here, miss, thank you, only looking out at these dreadful rain clouds,' I said in my loud voice, and then quietly: 'Auguste Duponte imitates no man. He shall resolve this in a manner deserving of Monsieur Poe. He can help you, too, if you wish, more than that thief, mademoiselle, your so-called husband and master.'

Bonjour, forgetting the necessities of her charade, slammed the door closed. 'I think not! Duponte is a thief of true measure, Monsieur Clark-he steals people's thoughts, their faults. The Baron is a great man because he is himself in all things. The most freedom I can have is by being with him.'

'You believe that by ensuring the Baron's victory here you will have repaid the debt you owe him for releasing you from prison, and will be free from this marriage he has compelled.'

Bonjour threw her head back in amusement. 'Well! You are firing into the wrong flock. I'd suggest you not judge me by mathematical analysis. You are becoming too much like your companion.'

'Monsieur Clark!' Duponte called hoarsely from the study.

I shifted my weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

Bonjour moved closer and studied me. 'You do not have a wife, Monsieur Clark?'

My thoughts darkened. 'I will,' I replied without confidence. 'And I will treat her well and ensure our mutual happiness.'

'Monsieur, the French girl possesses no freedom. In America a girl is free and honored for her independence until she is married. In France, the tables are turned. She is only free once she marries-and then with a freedom never to be imagined. A wife can even have as many lovers as her husband.'

'Mademoiselle!'

'Sometimes, a man in Paris is far more jealous of his mistress than his wife, and a woman more true to her lover than her husband.'

'But why remain a thief for him, mademoiselle?'

'In Paris you must get what you want from others by hook or crook, or others will get what they want from you first.' She paused. 'Your master is calling, monsieur.'

I started for the door. Bonjour lingered a moment before stepping aside with a mocking curtsy. As I re- entered the study, Duponte said, 'Monsieur, here is the note that perhaps tells us more than anything else, the one you heard read in part at the harbor. Write every word and every comma in your memorandum book. And quickly: I believe I hear the wheels of another carriage coming up the path. Write then: ‘Dear Sir, There is a gentleman, rather the worse for wear, at Ryan's…''

Upon the completion of our transcriptions, Bonjour led us downstairs rapidly.

'There is a back entrance?' I whispered.

'Dr. Snodgrass is just in the carriage house.' We all turned around. It was the downstairs girl, who had appeared among us suddenly. 'The Duke shan't leave now?'

'I'm afraid my schedule has become conflicted,' said Duponte. 'I shall have to see Dr. Snodgrass another