CHAPTER XII

MAY 1908

In April I made the acquaintance of M. Bdl.... through a common friend, the Director of the Paris Mont de Piété. Mr. Bdl. was a widower with several children, and although his residence was in the Ardennes, he frequently came to Paris. We met at a time when I was greatly depressed, and also vaguely alarmed. I felt myself surrounded by invisible dangers, and life had become almost unbearable. M. Bdl. was a strong, straightforward, very intelligent and very refined man. He had a great regard for me, and we became intimate friends. Afterwards, however, he showed himself to be so violent and domineering that our acquaintance came very soon to an end, although we parted in the best of terms, and occasionally wrote to each other. I should not even have mentioned this episode of my life, if it were not that M. Bdl. played a relatively important part in that long and complex drama called the "Steinheil Affair," on account of certain declarations which I am supposed to have made on the so-called "night of the confession" (November 26th, 1908), a "confession" which was greatly responsible for my arrest.

On May 18th, I went to Bellevue, to settle down there, as I did every spring. My mother, who was at Beaucourt, wrote saying that she would come to Paris. I no longer have that letter, but the letter which I sent to my mother in reply was found, and is here reproduced. Its importance will not escape the reader, after I state that I was accused of having enticed my mother to my house in Paris in order to murder her together with my husband! As for the reason which it was supposed had led me to murder my mother it was as follows: If I killed my husband only, I might be suspected of the crime, for I was not on very good terms with him, and probably I wished to be free to marry some wealthy and more congenial man. But, if I also killed my mother, then (according to the logic with which the prosecution kindly credited me), I should not be suspected, for people would say: she might have murdered her husband, but she would never have murdered her mother. Therefore, since both were murdered, she cannot be guilty.

My letter to my mother, dated May 21st, 1908, runs as follows:

"DARLING,--I will _then_ await you at the station, on Tuesday. Let me know the hour of your arrival, for I shall come straight from the country (Bellevue) to the station (in Paris). I have invited 'Ju' (my elder sister, Mme. Herr) and Madon (one of her daughters) to dinner on Tuesday night, and we shall all work hard to make things pleasant for you during your stay in Paris (meaning, of course, Paris and Bellevue), so that we may all enjoy one another's company as much as possible! Don't tire yourself too much in this terrible heat! How many things we shall have to tell each other! I have written to Dennery, to urge him to do something for Jules (my brother). I clasp you to my heart.

Your little,

MEG."

My mother changed her mind--because she did not feel well--and wired she would come on the Friday evening (May 29th) instead of on the Tuesday (May 26th).

* * * * *

The incidents which took place from the moment of my mother's arrival in Paris, till the fatal night--that is, from Friday evening, May 29th, till the night of May 30th-31st (1908)--must here be described at length. If they do not throw much light on the crime itself, they will, at any rate, allow the reader to judge whether any sane mind could have found in them reasons for suspecting me of being the criminal!

I quote from the _dossier_ of my case, questions asked by M. André, the examining magistrate (in December 1908, and January to March 1909), and the replies I made.

... "My mother informed me that she would come on the Friday, May 29th, she suffered greatly from articular rheumatism in her legs. At any rate, it was agreed between us that she should put up at my house, that she should sleep there, from the very first night after her arrival."

_Question._ "Oh! these points are in absolute contradiction to the declaration made by Mme. Herr [my elder sister, who for many years now had been residing in Paris] on June 22nd, 1908. From that, it appears that Mme. Herr, at the end of May, received two letters from your mother; one in which your mother told her of her arrival and added that she would spend the night at her (Mme. Herr's) house, the other wherein she said that you 'claimed' your mother, and that, for that reason, she would put up at your house, on her arrival."

_Answer._ "I am not at all surprised. My mother may very well have written that.... She may have wanted my sister to believe that I 'claimed' her, so that my sister might not reproach her for putting up with me, thus giving me the preference.... I did not claim, and had no need to 'claim' my mother, that time, since it had already been agreed upon at the beginning of May that she would stay with _me_.... My mother was to stay until the Sunday, 31st, or the Monday, June 1st. She was coming over to help me in making applications on my brother's behalf.... 'She spent the night of Friday (29th) and Saturday (30th) at the Impasse Ronsin, for our intention was to start together the next morning on a round of calls with the object of assisting my brother. That night my mother slept, as she always did, in my room. In the house, there also slept my husband and Rémy Couillard."

_In reply to a Question._ "There were three keys to the gate of the door separating the small garden from the Impasse Ronsin. One was in the hands of my husband; Mariette (the cook) had the second, and Rémy Couillard (the valet) had the third. Three months before the murder, Couillard lost his key. Two months before the murder I asked my husband to have the lock of the gate changed, for I feared that some one might enter at night. After the murder I had doubts concerning Couillard, on account of that lost key.... I several times begged my husband to have the lock changed, and Mariette did the same, but he would not consent. He said it meant nothing at all, that thieves that wanted to enter would do so in spite of a locked gate.... I even remember that at Bellevue on May 21st, and in the presence of Count and Countess d'Arlon, M. Maillard, and M. Boeswilwald, I again asked my husband about that lock, pointed out his carelessness, and reminded him of my anxieties."

_Question._ "How is it that, being so nervous on the matter, and being aware of M. Steinheil's lack of initiative, you did not have the lock changed yourself?"

_Answer._ "I didn't--I yielded to my husband's remark that thieves were not hindered by a locked gate...."

_In reply to a Question._ "On the eighteenth of May I went to Bellevue intending to stay there for at least a month. In 1906 and 1907 I had similar stays there. In May 1908, I settled down at Bellevue with the two youngest of the six children of the Buissons, and with Marthe. The only servant there was Mariette. M. Buisson and his son Pierre (the _fiancé_ of Marthe) were in Paris, but came frequently, of course. My husband spent part of his time in Paris, and part of his time at Bellevue. He slept sometimes in Paris, but when he came to sleep at 'Vert-Logis' (the name of our Bellevue villa), he usually let me know by telephone.... Before settling down at Vert-Logis, we concealed in a secret place in the dining-room (a hole in the wall hidden by furniture) the silver plate and also certain jewels...."

_In reply to a Question._ "To enter the house from the garden there are two doors, one opening on to the butler's pantry, the other on to the verandah. Both these doors were always locked at night, but in order to allow any of us who might come home late to enter, the key of the one door was not left in the lock. The key of the pantry door was then left on a small stand, and that of the main door on a table in the verandah. The one who entered last when he--or she--knew that every one was at home, would leave the key in the door."

_In reply to a Question._ "After May 18th, my husband slept at Bellevue, or in Paris according to his work. He spent two or three nights a week at the Impasse Ronsin. On such occasions Rémy Couillard slept in his usual room, near the entrance to the attic, above the studio (third floor). But when my husband slept at Vert-Logis, the valet slept in the verandah, on a couch. He had a revolver, which on such occasions my husband handed to him. When my husband returned to the Impasse, Couillard returned the revolver to him--I could not assert that it was regularly returned, for I was at Bellevue at the time, but I have every reason to believe it was, for I have always seen a revolver on my husband's table, whenever he slept in Paris."

_In reply to a Question._ "I did not go once to Paris between May 18th and Friday, May 29th. I was kept at Bellevue looking after the little Buissons, who were unwell and whom I nursed. I went to Paris on Friday, May 29th, only on account of my mother's arrival. On the previous day, my husband had lunched with us at Bellevue, and had spent the rest of the day and the night there. He told us that day, that Couillard, who was extremely nervous, had replaced 'Dick,' our watch-dog which, as in other years, had come with us to Bellevue, by a dog called 'Turk,' which belonged to M. and Mme. Geoffroy (daughter and son-in-law of Mariette, my cook). My husband said he was furious about it, because the dog had ruined, with its paws, the sketch for a stained-glass window he had just completed. And he added: 'To-morrow morning I shall send that dog back!' On the Friday, May 29th, early in the morning, my husband returned to Paris together with Marthe, who had to attend a lecture that morning, and who was to lunch with her father and, I believe, with Pierre Buisson, at the Impasse Ronsin. It was agreed that I should await Marthe's return before leaving Bellevue to go and meet my mother at the station in Paris. During my absence, Marthe would watch over the little Buissons whom I did not wish to be left alone. During the afternoon, after I had given the children their tea, Marthe returned to Vert-Logis. As had been arranged, Pierre Buisson had come with her, and was to spend the night there, so that the children should be less lonely in the night. My husband was to spend the night in Paris, as he did not wish to let my mother and me be left alone in town. On that Friday, I reached Paris (Montparnasse Station) towards 5 P.M., and went straight, by the Underground, to the Gare de l'Est, where my mother was due at six." When I left Bellevue (the journey to Paris takes twenty minutes by rail) I wore three rings.... (Later on, I will fully explain what has been called "the mystery of the jewels," of which so much was made against me.)

The programme for that evening and the following day was this: My mother was to spend the night at the Impasse Ronsin. My sister, Mme. Herr, would dine with us--but she did not come to the station, and afterwards I heard she was unable to come. At the station, therefore, I was alone to receive my mother. It had been arranged that even in the case of my sister and her family dining on the Saturday evening with us, my mother, my husband, and I would go afterwards to Bellevue to join Marthe and her friends; unless, of course, my mother's state of health would not allow it. On the Friday evening--or the Saturday morning--I received a note from my sister saying she could not come to lunch or to dinner, that she was going to a concert on the Saturday evening, but that she relied on my mother calling on her in the afternoon.

"On the Friday, May 29th, as soon as my mother and I reached home, I told Couillard to return the Geoffreys their dog, and scolded him for having borrowed it without permission, and also because the dog, by ruining one of M. Steinheil's drawings, had made the latter lose a whole week's work."

_Question._ "Why such haste in returning that dog?"

(The judge's idea was quite obvious. Convinced that I was guilty, even before he ever examined me, he thought the fact that I had got rid of the dog a proof of my guilt. I had, "of course," done it in order that the dog might not bark at my accomplices or bark while the murders were being committed!)

_Answer._ "My husband had told me the day before that the dog would have to go the moment he reached home, and Couillard had not yet returned the dog to its owners."

_Question._ "What witnesses have you to prove that your husband wished to get rid of the dog _at once_?"

_Answer._ "I believe Marthe and Mariette the cook heard my husband make the remark."

_Question._ "Why deprive your house so soon of a watch-dog when it was deprived of its usual guardian--the dog, Dick?"

_Answer._ "What importance did it have?... As a matter of fact, Turk hardly barked and was useless; besides, not belonging to the house, the dog was up to all kinds of mischief."

_Question._ "How can one admit that Couillard, in order to be protected, should borrow a dog that did not bark?"

_Answer._ "I don't know.... All I can say is that Couillard, just as he was about to take the dog back to the Geoffroys, told me that his idea in having the dog with him was that he would feel less lonely and more safe with 'something living' near him."

_Question._ "How did you know that the dog did not bark?"

_Answer._ "Madame Geoffroy, the daughter of my cook, frequently came to the house, accompanied by her dog, and I noticed that it never barked."

_Question._ "A number of your statements on this point contradict those you made on June 20th (less than a month after the murder). From the latter, it appears that Couillard borrowed the dog with M. Steinheil's permission, and that it was after M. Steinheil himself had ordered him to return the dog to its owners that the valet did so on the Friday evening."

_Answer._ "The statement you have just read to me I made when I was still seriously ill, so ill indeed that I had not the strength to listen to the reading of my statements after I had made them. Besides, what contradiction is there between the declarations I have just made and those I made then?"

_Question._ "From the statements of Rémy Couillard on May 31st (a few hours after the murder) to the commissary of police, it appears that the dog was returned to the Geoffroys, not on the day you say (Friday) but only on the following day, Saturday, May 30th."

_Answer._ "I can only say that it was on Friday evening that I told Couillard to return the dog."

_In reply to a Question._ "It was later on, after investigations had been made, that I learned that my husband had on Saturday, May 30th, withdrawn £40 from the Crédit Lyonnais. I did not hear of the fact at the time, but I am certain that my husband must have gone in the afternoon [Banks in France do not close at 1 P.M., as in England, on Saturdays], for when I left the Impasse Ronsin at about 11.30 to go to lunch with Marthe and the Buissons at Bellevue, my husband had not left the house. I also heard, after the police investigations had been made, that my husband had paid a few bills, including the bill of the carpenter."

_Question._ "Besides what may have remained of the £40, what amount of money do you think there was in the house?"

_Answer._ "On that day, there must have been in the writing-table of the boudoir, about £300." (Here I explained how that money was there, and where it had come from.)

_Question._ "But, on November 26th, 1908, you said there was about £120 in that desk?"

_Answer._ "On the 26th November, 1908" (I beg the reader carefully to remember that date, for it is one of the most dramatic in my eventful life), "I was out of my mind, and was not responsible for what I did or said, and forgot for a moment the £200 in a separate envelope."

_Question._ "Are you sure that envelope with the £200 ever existed?"

_Answer._ "It did exist. My husband was chairman of the 'Boulogne Ceramics Co.' Early in 1908 he told me that it would shortly ask for an increase of capital--an appeal which I knew he, and also M. Buisson and his brother would answer. I don't know when my husband intended to pay the money in, but he had told me he would contribute £200. At any rate, I had not yet given my consent, for I had my doubts about the prospects of the company." (Here I may add that the examining magistrate himself informed me that M. Buisson and his brother had made their payments to the company in June.)

_In reply to a Question._ "On the Saturday morning, early, (Saturday, May 30th, 1908), finding my mother very tired and being somewhat anxious about her health, I sent for Dr. Acheray, who prescribed for her, ordered her to stay in bed, and strictly forbade her to go out. After the doctor's departure, my mother absolutely insisted on calling, in the afternoon, on Mme. Herr and on making another call, about which she gave me no explanations. It was agreed between us that I should lunch at Bellevue and that when I returned at 5 or 6 P.M., we should see whether her state of health would allow her to travel to Bellevue, or she would have to remain at the Impasse Ronsin. I left the house at about 11.30 A.M. to take the train to Bellevue."

_Question._ "Then you did not make the call or calls you had planned to make, in your brother's interests?"

_Answer._ "No. My mother's indifferent health did not allow her to come with me and we had postponed these visits till the following Monday."

_Question._ "What were those steps you were to take?"

_Answer._ "M. Dennery, Secretary to the Under-Secretary of State for 'Postes et Telegraphes' protected my brother, and it was on him that my mother and I intended to call."

_In reply to a Question._ "My mother having said she would spend most of the afternoon with Mme. Herr, I only returned to the Impasse Ronsin towards 5.30 P.M. My mother was at home and so was my husband. My mother was lying down on the sofa in the verandah; she suffered a great deal in her legs. She told me she had been to my sister's and that going up and coming down the stairs had been most trying.... My mother still hoped, however, to be able to travel with us to Bellevue. 'We will put off our decision till after dinner,' she said, 'I will see how I feel then, and find whether I can go to Bellevue or not.' Had my mother felt better later on, we would have caught the 8.30 P.M. train. My mother told me some details about her visit to my sister. She said they had talked together about a marriage planned for my brother Julien."

_In reply to a Question._ "I had reached Bellevue that day towards noon. I lunched at Vert-Logis with the children, and then went for a drive through the woods with them. After the children's tea, I went with Marthe to the Bellevue station. I reached the Gare Montparnasse at about 5.30 P.M. and on foot I went straight home (a ten minutes' walk). On the way I called at the druggist's for my mother's medicine and also at Potin's (the grocer's stores)."

_Question._ "At what time that day did you telephone to M. Bdl.?"

_Answer._ "At ten in the morning. I 'phoned to him from my room, where my mother was lying in bed, and she heard what I said. M. Bdl. and I had parted in the middle of May, but I occasionally wrote or telephoned to him. I began by telling M. Bdl. that I was quite well, but that my mother (whom he knew) was ill. I remember that I could not hear a word of what M. Bdl. said, and finally I broke out laughing and put the receiver back in its place."

_In reply to a Question._ "It was only after dinner, at about 8 P.M. that I asked my mother if she felt well enough to go to Bellevue... I had to ask her, in order to know whether I should ask M. Buisson to go and sleep there or not."

_Question._ "Thus, you had warned M. Buisson that he might have to go to Bellevue and spend the night there?"

_Answer._ "Yes. This is what happened. Whilst I was at Vert-Logis, M. Buisson telephoned to me after lunch at about 1.30 or 2 P.M., just as I was about to go for a drive with the children. He wanted to ask me how his children were. Afterwards I told him that my mother--of whose arrival he had heard on the previous day--was not well, and did not know whether she would be able to come to Bellevue to sleep; and I asked him if, in case she would not come, he would mind running down to Bellevue and spending the night with his little children. He replied he would come to Bellevue at about 10.30 P.M. in any case, whether we could or could not be there ourselves. I had told my daughter during the afternoon that if we came to Bellevue in the evening I would warn her on the telephone. As a matter of fact, I considered it as unlikely, owing to my mother's health."

(Quoted from _Dossier_, Cote 3213-3218.)