My Memoirs Part 22

I hereafter quote the evidence given by this M. Lecoq, so that the reader may be present, as it were, at the discovery of the crime.

This day, June 23rd, 1908, before us, Leydet, examining magistrate...

has appeared, Lecoq, Maurice--twenty six years old--an engineer residing in the Impa.s.se Ronsin, No. 6--who has stated:

On Sunday, May 31st, a little before 6 A.M., I heard shouts of "Thief!

Thief!... My mistress is ill...." I hastily left my room which overlooks the yard of M. Bonnot's house. Rapidly I pa.s.sed through a gate, which is never closed (separating the Bonnot and the Steinheil grounds) and entered the garden of the Steinheil villa. I cut across the lawn, and went and stood under the window from which Couillard was crying for help. He shouted, "Come, be quick!" I tried in vain to open the doors of the verandah and the drawing-room, which opened on to the garden.

Finding I could not enter, I returned to the place under the window, and Couillard said to me: "Open the street door and pa.s.s through the kitchen." I went to the door in the Impa.s.se Ronsin, and opened it by lifting up the lower latch. Then I walked to the pantry door, which I opened by merely turning the k.n.o.b. I went through the hall, where I noticed nothing unusual, then walked up to the first floor. At the end of the staircase I saw the door of Mme. Steinheil's room, whom I had never seen, although she is a neighbour of mine. She was on her bed. At the same time Couillard left the window and went near the bed.

Mme. Steinheil then exclaimed: "We are saved, my poor Remy!" and the latter said: "Look at my poor mistress...." Mme. Steinheil was in a state of extreme agitation, and kept swinging her arms one way and another. Her wrists and her head were free.... There were cords round her neck, not tight, and over her nights.h.i.+rt. Her feet were still strongly fastened to the rails of the bed, but the cords did not press very tightly on the articulations. Remy and I undid the cords (Couillard had before undone the other cords), and then Mme. Steinheil, panting, with haggard eyes, said in broken words--and she had several times the vision of the scenes which she was describing--that she had been a.s.sailed and ill-treated by three men and a horrible woman who took her for her daughter, and who had asked for her money. She also said that the woman wanted her to be killed. She said she suffered from her head, and wailed: "My head, my head, they have struck me." I touched her hair, but found no wound. Mme. Steinheil also said: "My husband... why does he not come?" I replied to calm her, "He is in the next room." Later, she asked for her daughter. She was a prey to constant terror, and all the time she lived through the scene of the night. Several times she cried: "I am afraid, I am afraid...." And when I told her: "Don't fear anything, I am here; I will go for a.s.sistance," she kept saying, "I don't fear you, but oh! that fierce woman, and those men, and those two lanterns." I left her for a short while, to go and find out what had happened in the house. The door of M. Steinheil's room was open, and I saw the body of a man, wearing only a s.h.i.+rt, in the s.p.a.ce between two rooms (M. Steinheil's room and the bath-room). I returned to Mme.

Steinheil's room, and taking the valet aside, I said to him: "There is a dead man, who is he?" Overwhelmed, Couillard replied: "It is perhaps my master." Since then, Couillard has told me that when he went through the rooms he had pa.s.sed over the body of his master without noticing it was a corpse. I then returned to that body, and Couillard followed me at a distance. I bent forward, and placing my hand on his thigh, I found it was icy cold. I at once undid the cord round the neck, however, whilst realising that M. Steinheil had ceased to live. I then returned to Mme.

Steinheil who had remained alone during those brief moments. A little later I took Couillard aside. He was all the time walking up and down the room, as if he were mad, and did nothing, although his mistress was asking, with great insistence, for Dr. Acheray.

I asked Remy: "How many are you in the house?" He replied: "Three, without counting me." I then said: "Where is the third person?" He pointed to the door opposite that of M. Steinheil's room, and said: "There!" I found that the door was locked and that I could not open it.

When I had asked for the way into the room, Couillard pointed, with a vague gesture to the end of the corridor; he was quite distracted, and a sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. I took him by the arms, and looking him straight in the eyes, said: "You must come with me."

Couillard, who did not realise my suspicions, showed that he was quite ready to follow me, and my suspicions vanished entirely. At that moment there arrived, at the top of the staircase, the first policeman, and M.

Geoffroy (son-in-law of Mariette Wolff, my cook--and a neighbour). I rapidly told the policeman all I knew, and together we walked to the end of the corridor. The policeman opened the door indicated by Couillard, and from the threshold we saw the body of Mme. j.a.py lying across her bed in the position where you (M. Leydet) found it.

Then other persons arrived. I remained some time near Mme. Steinheil, who was still in a state of great agitation, but whose terror was gradually diminis.h.i.+ng. Doctor Puech arrived on the scene, but Mme.

Steinheil asked for her own doctor, M. Acheray, whom Couillard had now gone to fetch.

_Question._ "What impression did Mme. Steinheil, whom you had never seen before, make on you as regards her age?"

_Answer._ "I had two strong impressions. _When I entered the room where Mme. Steinheil was lying I thought I stood before a young lady of about twenty: but when she talked about her husband and her daughter and when I observed her more closely she appeared to me as a woman of twenty-six._ I don't know the Steinheils, and did not even know their names."

Signed LECOQ LEYDET.

(_Dossier_, Cote 71.)

In spite of this statement--and although it must seem evident to any one that if, after such a night of terror and agony, M. Lecoq took me for a girl of twenty, the murderers, who saw me in a dimmer light and when I was quietly resting, may easily have taken me for my daughter--the Prosecution declared (I quote from the Indictment itself) that: "She thought she was spared because the a.s.sa.s.sins, taking her for Marthe, took pity on her youth. Such a confusion is most unlikely, for Mme.

Steinheil could not be taken for a young lady barely seventeen."

While the reader has still fresh in his--or her--mind the details of the crime, I will give all explanations on the matter of the "binding," as I have given those about the "gag."

The Indictment said: "The inquiries of medical experts have revealed quite early the contradictions and lies of Mme. Steinheil. She claimed that a cord had been fastened round her neck--but there were no traces of it." Elsewhere the same extraordinary Indictment declares: "Mme.

Steinheil did her best to make the law believe that she had really been bound; but the traces left by the cords disappeared too rapidly to allow any one to believe in her statement."

How was I bound?

M. Lecoq declared that the cords round my feet were "securely fastened"

to the bed. Couillard stated that "the cord went round the feet seven or eight times," and also that "the wrists were fastened over one another to the rails of the top of the bed, the arms being raised above and behind the head." (_Dossier_, Cote 3257.) Couillard further stated "the head was held by a cord fastened to the railings of the bed." True, on another occasion Couillard declared he "had unfastened the cords by pulling on one end, as one undoes the knot of bootlaces." But on the morning of May 31st he made some statements to one of the policemen, M.

Debacq, who declared afterwards: "The valet told me and my colleagues that he had found his mistress _entirely secured_ with cords, and that he had _cut_ the cords with which she was bound." The expert, Doctor Balthazard, made a special report in which he a.s.serted that one of the cords had a knot of a kind called "galley-knot" (_nud de galere_) which it is most difficult to make and which is only used in certain professions (sailors, horse-dealers, &c.). Dr. Courtois-Suffit mentioned "grooves on the feet and hands, corresponding to the diameter of the cords." Dr. Lefevre, who had made the remark, so dangerous to my cause: "It is all a sham" (_c'est de la frime_), explained at my trial what he had exactly meant. His idea was that the way I had been bound could not be a source of great pain to me. Dr. Acheray found on my wrists and ankles "very clear and marked traces." In his report, dated June 23rd, 1908, Dr. Lefevre stated: "I found on the wrists and the ankles parallel lineal ecchymoses."

Finally, as regards the cord round my neck which the prosecution said left no traces and was quite loose, I will merely say that I myself stated that "the cord did not hurt when I did not move my head," and further that it was wound round my neck _over_ the cloth which covered my head. When that cloth, which formed a kind of pad at the neck, was removed, the cord of course slipped down and became loose.

As I have stated, my first thoughts on that dreadful morning of May 31st, 1908, was for my mother and my husband.

My next thought was: What has been stolen during the night?--for, I repeat it, I could not guess that a murder had been committed.

Here I must hasten to state a most important point in the events of that fatal night....

_One of the men of black gaberdines, the dark, tall man who stood near my bed when I was started out of my sleep, the only man who spoke--he had, or pretended to have, a foreign accent--the man who had asked for the money when he came near me a second time_ (for I had been left alone at one time with the horrible red-haired woman who pointed a revolver at my head), _that man, after the woman had said: "Now then, girl, tell us where the jewels are," asked me in a peremptory tone_. "AND WHERE ARE THE PEARLS AND THE PAPERS?" And I thought the man _knew_ who I was, although from his first question ("Where is your parents' money?") it was clear he took me for my daughter. I was more terrified than ever. I thought of the mysterious German, of my husband's reticence, and also of his indiscretions.... The man _knew_ I had those pearls, and knew about the doc.u.ments!

When asked where the money was, I had pointed to the boudoir, close to the room where my mother slept. Afterwards the red-haired woman asked me where the jewels were. As I have stated before, quoting from the evidence I gave seven months after the murder to M. Andre, examining magistrate, "I dreaded to say that the jewels were in my mother's room (that is, in _my_ bedroom, where my mother slept), and that they were in the drawer of the wardrobe...." But, fearing to be killed, I said it, adding: "Don't kill me, and promise to kill no one." When the tall, dark man, with the foreign accent, asked me about "the pearls and the papers:" I said the pearls were with the other jewels, and the papers in the secret drawer of the desk....

I was told, later on, that the drawers, on May 31st, were found in a state of great disorder, and that all the jewel-cases were empty. Three rings had been stolen, and a diamond crescent, and a few other jewels.

The pearls had also disappeared from the case in which I kept them. I found this out when all the cases were shown to me.

(As for the talisman, the gold locket which the President had worn, it was in the drawer of a cupboard in the studio, and was not stolen.)

As I have already stated, after the conversation with M. de Balincourt about my husband's indiscretion, I had removed the "papers" from the drawer of the writing-table in the boudoir, where I had so long kept them, and had put them in a place of safety.

The money, the jewels, and the pearls disappeared that night, and also the doc.u.ments. Not the genuine bundle, of course, but the dummy, on which I had written: "Private papers. To be burned after my death."

Early in the morning, the police-commissary of the district, M.

Bouchotte, asked me all kinds of questions. I replied to them all, but I did not speak the whole truth: I said that I had been asked for the money and the jewels, but I did not add that I had further been asked for the pearls and the papers.

Why I did not must have already occurred to the reader.

I knew that my real friends had always refused to believe in anything that had been said against me as regards my past life and my private affairs. And I did not want them to alter their views about me, and know that I had not been faithful to my husband. And above all, there was Marthe, my only child, my beloved daughter! She was engaged to Pierre Buisson. If I mentioned the pearls and the doc.u.ments, the truth about my "friends.h.i.+p" with the late President Felix Faure was sure to be discovered and disclosed, not only to my friends who had always taken my part, but even to my own child, and to her betrothed. There would be a terrible scandal, my daughter's marriage would be broken off....

Although I was at the time almost out of my mind, after the pain I had endured, and the terror of the night, I fully realised the danger of mentioning the pearls and the doc.u.ments, and so I held my tongue.

Not only the police-commissary, but M. Leydet, the examining magistrate, and other officials came that morning and asked a number of questions.

I was pleased--if one can be pleased in such tragic circ.u.mstances!--to see that M. Leydet was the judge in charge of the case. I had known him for several years; he was a great friend of both my husband and myself and came frequently to the house. I made up my mind that I would tell him the whole truth, if the three men and the red-haired woman could not be traced.

But for the moment I was haunted by thoughts of my mother and my husband, and ill though I was, I would go to them and attend to them. I had repeatedly asked how they were, and I had been told they were "better."

It was during the afternoon that the horrible news that they had both been murdered was gradually broken to me. My whole being reeled under this overwhelming blow. I wanted to rush to my dear dead, to look upon them, guard them, close their eyes--but they would not let me.... They said I was too weak, too ill.... They said it was impossible....

(Several weeks later, I heard that the two bodies had been taken to the Morgue for the autopsy during the morning of May 31st).... And all the time, I had to reply to endless questions.... They wanted to know what had been taken, and so I asked that the drawers and all the jewel-cases should be brought to me. Detectives brought them in and put them on my bed. I then saw that all the jewels which President Faure had given me had been stolen, and the pearls too.... M. Leydet seeing how upset I was, did his best to calm me.... I said to him: "There is a secret recess in the drawing-room wall, behind the dresser.... If you will bring to me what you find in there, I shall be better able to tell you what has been stolen during the night...."

I besought M. Leydet to send for my daughter, who was at Bellevue. I thought: "As this has no importance, what does it matter whether the jewels are found or not? I need my daughter and she needs me to give her courage after the awful shock of losing her father and her grandmother.

She wors.h.i.+pped them both...." Alas! how ill the poor darling looked when she arrived in the evening with the Buissons. (Mariette had come from Bellevue in the morning, having been summoned by Dr. Acheray. She had left Marthe with the Buissons, and it was they who broke the dreadful news to the child during the afternoon.)

It was Dr. Acheray who told me that Marthe had come, and at the same time he said there was a motor-ambulance downstairs to take me away....

He did not want me to stay in the house where the ghastly murders had been committed. "You must go," he said, "and stay with the Buissons" (in Paris).

"If you will not let me see my mother and my husband," I replied, "allow me at least the consolation of remaining near them".... I insisted so much that the ambulance was sent back, and my poor little Marthe, after spending some time with me, went away--with M. Buisson, I believe.

I pa.s.sed a terrible night.... I longed to sleep, to forget the harrowing drama, if only for an hour, but I could not. And minute after minute hundreds of thoughts flashed through my mind.... I lived through the fatal night again and again; I thought of the dead, of my daughter, of the future.... And then I wondered who were the three men in black gaberdines and soft felt hats? Who was the red-haired woman? Why had they killed my mother and my husband? Why had I been spared?... I thought of the mysterious "German," of his threatening look... he knew his way about the house.... And a key had been lost.... I thought of many officials who hated me because I knew their secrets. I thought of the doc.u.ments which one of the men had demanded.... Perhaps they had killed my husband before awaking me?... Not my mother, for she had cried "Meg, Meg!"... I had heard her.... Sometimes, it seemed to me that the fatal night had only been a nightmare? Nothing had happened. I was mad, I imagined things.... Of course, my husband was now quietly sleeping in his room, and if I called my mother she would hear and come to me at once.... And then, the acute pain from the blow I had received on the head, and feeling that there had been ropes round my neck, my feet, my hands, and wadding in my mouth, that I had been bound and gagged.... And once more I lived through the night of terror, and it was worse than before, for I knew now that my husband and my mother had been killed....

Later, I was told that Dr. Acheray, M. Buisson and his wife, and the elder M. Boeswilwald had attended me during that night of agony. I heard that the doctor had to give me morphia injections two or three times, and that I was very near to death....

On the Monday, thanks to my doctor's care and devotion, I came back to life, as it were.... And I can frankly say that I have regretted it since, more than once.

Many people visited the house. A magistrate came to "affix the seals."