My Memoirs Part 23

Detectives and policemen came... and journalists.... I was still so ill, however, that the doctor insisted that I should be taken to some nursing home or to the house of friends. Count and Countess d'Arlon offered me their hospitality, and so did M. and Mme. Buisson. I accepted the offer of the d'Arlons, who, unlike the Buissons, had no children.

Letters and telegrams of condolence arrived in piles, from every part of France and from people in every walk of life. This I only knew because I was told. I had not the strength to read the messages.

On June 2nd I was told that my mother's body had been removed to a Protestant, and my husband's to a Catholic, church. (They dared not tell me the bodies were at the Morgue.) It was then, and only then, that I yielded to the pressing entreaties of the d'Arlons. I was taken to their house in an ambulance. It was terrible to me to leave that house where less than forty-eight hours before I had been chatting with my husband about our summer.... In the garden I saw the rose-trees laden with white roses, which my mother had so much admired only two days ago!...

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DESK (WITH SEALS AFFIXED) IN THE BOUDOIR, FROM WHICH THE MONEY AND THE DUMMY PARCEL OF DOc.u.mENTS WERE STOLEN ON MAY 30-31ST.

1906]

In the Impa.s.se there was an immense crowd, and another near the _Ecole Militaire_, near which the d'Arlons lived. The crowd were hostile. What did it mean?... I could not understand.... Again I thought of the doc.u.ments, of the pearls.... Mme. Buisson, who was with me in the ambulance, trembled with fear.... Later I was told that we had been escorted by detectives, to protect me!...

At last I arrived at the d'Arlons. Marthe was there. She was so very tender and affectionate, and I realised that she knew nothing about my life, about Felix Faure.... There was no semblance of reproach in her pure little face, no question in her big brown eyes.... I breathed again.

On the Wednesday (June 3rd), Dr. Acheray, finding I was worse, ordered a nurse. He also told me that I should soon be interrogated by M. Hamard and M. Leydet. "Tell them everything you know," he recommended; "the public seems to suspect you...."

I spent hours of torture. I wondered what I should say. I had already been asked about the jewels that had disappeared on the night of May 30th-31st. Was I to speak of those given me by M. B., the Attorney-General, and years later by President Faure (which had been stolen), and most of which were exactly copied from those my husband had given me, but set with more valuable stones?... But if I did, my reputation would be ruined in the eyes of my daughter, who worshipped her mother and who was engaged to be married, and of many friends who believed implicitly in me.... No, no, since the jewels had been stolen I would describe them without saying whence they came, and I would alter the duplicates I had at Bellevue.

Here a clear explanation becomes necessary, inasmuch as the prosecution tried to prove that _no jewels had been stolen_ and that I was the murderer. The jewel problem (_la question des bijoux_) was perhaps the most complex of all in that mysterious affair; and, although I spoke the whole truth to M. Andre, who became my examining magistrate after M.

Leydet, I was not believed, and there were inevitably such contradictions between the statements I made on the matter at various times that my case became prejudiced. And yet this jewel problem was no problem at all, as the reader will no doubt agree after the following explanation:

Besides the money and the ten large pearls and my mother's jewels, there were stolen on the night of the double murder a diamond crescent, a few minor jewels of no great value, a gold chain and three valuable rings.

The diamond crescent which was stolen had been given me by President Faure, but I had a similar one at Bellevue, given me by my husband, from which it had been copied (only with better stones, as I stated before).

I had thus been able in the days of Felix Faure to wear his crescent (worn as a brooch or in the hair) without my husband being able to make remarks. True, the President had given me a brooch with the three colours of France, and a Lalique comb, but he had done so at the beginning of our acquaintance and in the presence of my husband. I may at once say that the comb was in a cabinet in the drawing-room, and was not stolen. The cornflower-marguerite-poppy brooch was stolen, but I did not mention it, because it would have led to questions about my friendship with Felix Faure.

The three rings I possessed in triplicate: Firstly the three given me by my husband; secondly, three exact copies of them given me--two by the Attorney-General, one by the President--and thirdly, three exact copies in paste.

Why this last set? Because at one time of financial difficulties, my husband had asked me to let him pledge the three rings he had given me, and I consented, after he had had those rings cheaply copied in paste, so that our friends might not notice that my rings were gone. For how could I at that time wear the other three real rings without my husband noticing it at once? Afterwards, the pledged rings were redeemed, and so it happened that I possessed, before the night of May 30th-31st, three sets of similar rings.

I may add here that there are hundreds of ladies in Paris--even among the very wealthy--who have paste copies of their jewels, if only for safety's sake.

At Bellevue, I always had the real rings given me by my husband, and the _paste_ ones. I wore the real ones at home and the paste ones when I went out for walks in the woods or on business.

Where were all these rings at the time of the crime? The three _real_ rings (given me by M. B. and Felix Faure) were in the drawer of the wardrobe at my house in the Impa.s.se Ronsin. The three _real_ rings (given me by my husband) were at Vert-Logis. When I left Bellevue to come to Paris and fetch my mother at the station, I had put on the three _false_ rings, leaving the three rings (given me by my husband) at Vert-Logis. When I ma.s.saged my mother I took those rings off, and took them upstairs when we retired. Those three false rings were therefore stolen by the murderers, together with the three _real_ rings (given me by friends), the diamond crescent (the President's), a gold chain, and the tricolour brooch.

Fearing the consequences--to my daughter's future and to my reputation--which would follow the discovery that I had received jewels from "friends," I did not mention these, and when I gave the list of what had been stolen, I merely described the rings, without adding that I had possessed three sets of them.

The three rings given me by my husband, I intended to have altered, having some of the stones made up with new by M. Souloy, for Marthe, with whom, I may add, I had several times talked over the matter and discussed designs. For obvious reasons of elementary delicacy, I did not want to use for these presents to my daughter stones taken from the rings given me by "friends."

I also mentioned as having been stolen a "new art" ring (gold and pearl). That was on the morning of May 31st, when, surely after what I had gone through my thoughts would not be quite clear or my statements strictly accurate. I believed that I had worn that ring on the previous day, and that it had been stolen. I said so to M. Bouchotte, who made a note of it. Later, it suddenly occurred to me that I had left the "new art" ring at Bellevue, and that, consequently, if could not have been stolen. But I thought it was a matter of trifling importance, and I did not mention it. Then, at the d'Arlons, Doctor Acheray told me that the public seemed to suspect me! Here was a new dilemma. What was I to do?

If I mentioned my mistake about the "new art" ring, people would say: "She alters her statements, she lies...." Fearing that such a simple declaration might lead to more investigations that would reveal certain chapters of my life which I was anxious should not be disclosed, and remembering also that this "new art" ring had been given me by an admirer, whose name would of course become known if I drew attention to that ring, I dared not mention it now. It was a sad mistake, and I paid a heavy penalty for it, just as it was a sad mistake not to state that I possessed duplicates of the three valuable rings.

When, however, I did say, not that I possessed another set of _real_ rings, but that I had had the three rings in paste, and that these had been stolen--(which was absolutely true) the prosecution denied it.

According to them, I had never had duplicates in paste of the three valuable rings given me by my husband. I gave the address of the firms where I had bought them and even the dates, but my statements in this matter were not even verified. And yet, it simply meant sending a detective to a jeweller in the Boulevard des Italiens, to another in the Boulevard des Capucines, and to a shop in the Rue de la Paix... that is, in the very heart of Paris. But the prosecution did not fail to send some one to Briancon, in the Alps (where my husband and I had been, as I have told, in 1897) in search of a merchant of alpenstocks, because an alpenstock with the name "Briancon" engraved on it had been found near the body of my husband on May 31st, 1908!

One more fact before leaving, for the present, this important "jewel problem." I had declared that a solid gold chain had been stolen, a "dull gold chain with large links." Now, M. Hamard had found, among other things in the secret recess behind the dresser, in the wall of the dining-room--a recess where I had myself told the police to look--"a chain, yellow metal." The Prosecution hoped to show that this chain was the one which I had said had been stolen. That would have been a material and unexceptional proof that I lied, a proof of my guilt!

On March 11th, 1909, I spent an hour explaining to the examining magistrate that I had possessed two chains, one that had been stolen and one that had been found in the recess. I lost patience.... The expert appointed to a.s.sist the law was present, and held the chain. I said to him:

"Since you believe that the chain of yellow metal found in the recess is the same as the 'dull gold chain with large links' mentioned in the list of stolen jewels which I gave, kindly reply to these two questions: Firstly, has the chain which you are holding in your hands 'large links'?"...

"No," said the expert.

"Is it made of gold?"

"I could not tell."

I was almost beside myself with anger when I heard this reply. The expert had written a long report, but had not even troubled to ascertain whether the chain found by M. Hamard in the recess was made of "solid gold" or not.

M. Souloy, who was present, was sent to test the "yellow metal" on a touchstone. I need hardly say that the surprise of all--save myself--was extreme. If the chain were made of gold, then I was lost, and that, of course, was what the judge wanted.... An hour elapsed. Then, M. Souloy returned.

"Well?" asked M. Andre, the judge.

"The chain is not made of gold. It is merely a gold-plated one."

The judge and the expert looked at one another in dismay, and my examination was proceeded with....

M. Leydet came to the d'Arlons a few days after I had been taken there.

He was extremely pale. He seized my hand and said: "Hamard is coming....

It is not the judge in charge of the Impa.s.se Ronsin case who stands before you, but your old friend.... It is dreadful. The whole population is against you.... You must collect yourself, you must be calm... and help us to find the murderers."

I was ill in bed and his words startled me. "Then," I said, "I must tell you everything--everything about the jewels, the papers.... I must tell you about Felix Faure...."

"No, no..." said M. Leydet, "don't speak about that.... We will find the murderers... but not a word about that...."

The door opened, and M. Hamard, head of the Criminal Investigation Department, came in. He had come to the Impa.s.se Ronsin after the murder, but I did not know who he was at the time, so many people had been in my room then. I said to him as I had said to M. Leydet: "I must tell you about my past life, about the President...."

He, too, stopped me there, and said: "Don't speak about that.... We know.... We know.... We promise to find the murderers.... Have courage, we will find them...."

I felt immensely relieved. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off my breast. I felt full confidence in these two men. I thought: They will find the murderers and they will not speak about the doc.u.ments and the pearls, about my past life; and Marthe will not look down upon her mother.... I felt that they knew everything. M. Leydet was a friend of M. B., the Attorney-General, and it seemed evident to me that M. Hamard, because of his office, knew all about the life of the late President....

M. Leydet said: "Let us lose no time. I must still tell you this: Engage a counsel--it is always wiser.... Take my friend Aubin; he knows all about the case; he will be useful to you...." (I knew Maitre Antony Aubin, and he had attended a few of my receptions.)

Thereupon a detective was ushered into the room. He wore a black gaberdine and a large hat with a turned-down brim. The man walked to and fro before me, and I was asked whether his attire was similar to that worn by the murderers. Then he put on a false beard, and again I was asked what remarks this performance suggested to me.

I said there was a great similarity between the detective's attire and that of the murderers, and gave various details about the gowns and hats of those murderers.

After M. Leydet and M. Hamard had gone, my daughter told me that my friend Mme. Darracq (wife of the motor-car manufacturer) wished to see me. I received her, of course, and she said she had come to beg me take Maitre Aubin as counsel. As M. Leydet had just told me the same thing, I said I would.

At the same time I was at a loss to understand why I needed a counsel!

"Oh," said Mme. Darracq, "it is the usual thing. It is for the 'civil'

proceedings against the criminals. You need a.s.sistance, legal advice."

All this was quite new to me.... Soon afterwards, Maitre Aubin arrived, keen, full of life and fire and endowed with an amiable simplicity of character--as I was to find him all through my time of trouble. We had only a brief talk, for I felt very weak, and M. Aubin concluded: "Leydet is a very able magistrate; all will be well." And he added those words which I was to hear, week after week, for months and months: "We will find the murderers. Be patient.... We will find them!"

I remained about a fortnight with Count and Countess d'Arlon.

Journalists came to me.... Doctor Acheray, hearing that the _Matin_ "demanded" an interview, and knowing the almost unlimited power of certain newspapers for good--or evil--hastily handed the _Matin_ a letter which I had written to him on the day before the murder, in which I asked him to examine my mother before her departure for Bellevue....

The letter duly appeared in the _Matin_, who, having thus received some exclusive information, had the generosity to publish a "favourable"