After a time, however, when the meadows seemed less green, the sky less blue and the air less exhilarating than during the first days after our arrival at Louvieres, the nightmare once more beset me.... Once more I thought of the night of terror, of the murderers... who were at large. I wanted to avenge the dead, and I wanted to put an end once and for all to all the dreadful suspicions against me which had sprung up everywhere because... the murderers had spared me. My unpardonable sin was to be alive! If I was not a murderess, why did I not prove it?... That is what I had heard, and read, alas!...

And I wondered, wondered, wondered what the police were doing! I received letters in which I was told that the _Affaire of the Impa.s.se Ronsin_ was being "_cla.s.see_," that is put aside, abandoned, given up.... And at the same time I heard public opinion was still against me.

One letter written in vulgar slang and forwarded from Paris, said "You are the a.s.sa.s.sin; only, as you are highly connected (_comme vous connaissez des gens de la haute_) the police are not doing what they would do in the case of any poor wretch.... You coward, you have gone and hidden yourself in the country!..." Even the two or three "former"

friends who occasionally wrote to me, gave me to understand that the pleasant relations, the friendship of the old days, would be impossible "until the murderers had been arrested." As if I knew where they were!

As if I had only to call them or point to them and have them arrested!

As if I were not more anxious than any one on earth to know who were the murderers of my husband and my mother!...

There are mental pains which are almost unbearable, and none greater perhaps than to see the being one loves best in all the world suffer near you.... Marthe, brave little girl that she was, tried to smile so as to give me courage to live. We spent long hours, under a tree or in the fields... in silence. I watched her, so worn, so pale, her pallor heightened by her mourning dress, her head bent down, her eyes filled with tears which she dared not shed. She knew my thoughts, and I knew hers. Her mind was in Paris.... She thought of her father, of her grandmother... and of Pierre, her _fiance_, her lover, who no longer wrote... who would never write to her again, until the murderers were arrested. Not that he believed I was guilty, but probably because, like his parents, he dreaded Public Opinion....

And as I turned and turned these thoughts over in my distracted mind, I grew more and more resolute.... Public Opinion, indeed! Well, I would face it! I would go to the bitter end--and the end was bitter, my G.o.d!--I would look for those a.s.sa.s.sins, who after making two victims were now claiming two more, my child and myself, I would hunt them down, and if the Law were reluctant or disheartened, if the Law refused to go on with the search, I would force the Law to do its duty....

A letter came, at that moment, a letter from M. Marcel Hutin, a journalist on the staff of the _Echo de Paris_ and the friend of a friend of mine. He told me that most people were still against me, and that he had placed himself entirely at my disposal.

I wrote a long letter to Maitre Antony Aubin, entreating him to reproach the authorities for their apathy....

A little pacified, I tried to forget my trial, and, knowing that the best antidote to haunting thoughts and fixed ideas is work, I started with Marthe's a.s.sistance to decorate the whole house of our host and hostess.... We painted ornaments, huge decorative flowers, altered the appearance of the rooms, and even improved the gardens....

Sometimes we went to the seaside, or made an excursion to some beauty spot in Normandy. Once again I began to "forget." This country life was beautiful and simple. I thought of Beaucourt, and, as I watched Marthe, I said to myself: "How my father would have loved her!" The sorrow written in such pathetic lines on her sweet face--so young and fresh that it should not as yet have shown care or pain--made me ashamed to think of my own overwhelming grief. Seeing that the simple healthy life we led did us much good, our friends suggested that we should take half their house, and settle down permanently in Normandy....

But Marthe shook her little head. She longed to return to Paris, to see Pierre at all costs, to hear his voice.... And I was more than anxious to go on with the Impa.s.se Ronsin affair--to press inquiries, to trace the murderers, to solve that mystery which was ruining my child's happiness, and which made me the most miserable and most unjustly abused creature in the world....

With all my heart I thanked our friends. Our stay with them if it had not cured our minds, had strengthened our bodies, and Marthe and I had both known many an hour of comforting peace.

At the end of August we left Louvieres and returned to Bellevue. We would not go to the Impa.s.se Ronsin yet, for the house was in the hands of the builders, who were dividing it, so that I could let a part of it, as well as the vast studio.

M. and Mme. Buisson came to Vert-Logis, but not often, and Marthe saw her Pierre....

The visits of Inspectors began again. It was chiefly Inspector Pouce who came to see me. I had been keenly interested in the "Burlingham" clue, and I asked what had been discovered during the month I had been away.

The Inspector replied that all was well, that matters were very hopeful... and it was then that the all-important facts of the two cards in the Underground, and of the stolen gowns, were revealed to me.

The "Burlingham" clue had been arrived at in this way:

On May 27th, when M. Goldstein, M. Feinberg and Mlle. Jankel had called at Guilbert's to order a number of costumes for the Hebrew Theatre, there had been present in the shop some fifteen to twenty persons, among whom was Mr. Burlingham with some of his friends. It was M. Goldstein and Mlle. Jankel who said this. I may add that M. Goldstein also said that he believed that later he had seen Burlingham leaving the Underground, at the _Gare du Nord_, and that he had followed the red-bearded man early in June, but had lost sight of him. "The man carried a football bag," M. Goldstein added.

The Inspector procured a photograph which represented Mr. Burlingham, a friend of his, and a woman. He showed it to me at Bellevue on June 19th, and I remarked that the bearded man in that photograph looked very much like the red-bearded man I had seen on the night of the crime.

The Inspector gave me many curious details about Mr. Burlingham and his friends: they mixed with all kinds of strange people, they walked about wearing sandals, and used long sticks very much like the alpenstock found near my husband's body!

The apparently very interesting Burlingham clue had no value whatever.

I hasten to add that it was afterwards established beyond a shadow of doubt that at the time of the crime Mr. Burlingham, who had left Paris on May 22nd on a tramp to Switzerland with a friend, was at Montbard, in Burgundy, a small city which he left for Dijon the next morning.

But this entirely convincing alibi had not been established when Inspector Pouce--who, I really admit, did his utmost in this case and spared no effort to trace the murderers--explained to me the importance of the Burlingham clue.

I did not start these investigations about Mr. Burlingham. I was shown a photograph in which he appeared, and I merely said: "This bearded man looks very much like the red-bearded man I saw on the fatal night!" I was told that the clue was a conclusive one, and I was, naturally enough, inclined to believe it.

At the _Surete_ when the photograph of Mr. Burlingham was shown to me once more, and I was asked: "Is that the man?" I replied (I quote the very words I used): "If my a.s.sertion alone was to bring about the arrest of the man whose photograph you are showing me, and whom otherwise I don't know, I would certainly never dare make such an a.s.sertion.... But I am very much struck by the likeness."

_I was asked_ to disguise myself, and to accompany the detectives, who would show me Mr. Burlingham without my being recognised by him. Once I wrapped myself in an ample cloak; another time I had to put on a short skirt that considerably changed my appearance. We followed Mr.

Burlingham on foot and in a carriage....

We went several times to Paris for the purpose of my identifying him. I remember seeing him leaving his house near the Gare Montparna.s.se, I believe, and I found that he was very like the red-bearded man I had seen on the night of the double murder "near the door, frightened and dumb." On another occasion we saw him, from our carriage, in front of the School of Fine Arts. At that time I still had my full reason and was incapable of accusing any one without absolute proofs of their guilt....

But my mind was at work.

Mr. Burlingham was "shown" to me again.... Later, the _Matin_ arranged that I should see him at their offices in the Boulevard Poissonniere....

Through a door left slightly open for the purpose I saw the "red-bearded" man. I "recognised" him, but not absolutely.

Then, once more, I was called to the _Surete_, and there, after so many meetings with the red-bearded man, I said that I unhesitatingly recognised him as one of the men I had seen on the fatal night.... Is it really very much to be wondered at that I did...?

The most wonderful thing about this, as my able counsel Maitre Antony Aubin exclaimed at my trial, "is not that Mme. Steinheil _then_ 'recognised' Mr. Burlingham, but that she did not 'recognise' him before."

I returned to Bellevue. The inspectors and detectives all told me: "Be brave! We are nearing the goal!" And I believed them. We are always so ready to believe what we long for.

Whilst firmly believing in the Burlingham clue, I was utterly bewildered by the contents of the anonymous letters I received. Most of them mentioned Couillard, Mariette, and Wolff. A few denounced M. de Balincourt, and, I need hardly add, several denounced... me. A large proportion of these letters were actually brought by hand to Bellevue and dropped, probably by the writers themselves, into my letter-box. The average number was twelve to fifteen a day.... In Paris, a few weeks later, the number rose to thirty or forty.

I read every one of these letters. In any one of them I might find a clue, a useful suggestion, perhaps the whole truth, and I could not afford to neglect this correspondence, disheartening though it was....

Day after day the detectives came and told me of what was going on.

Journalists called... and each had his theory, which he propounded with the confidence and eloquence of those who deal in theories only. Had I listened to everybody I should have denounced at least one hundred persons as being the murderers! The majority mentioned Couillard and Wolff, and as the days went by these two names became more and more deeply engraven on my mind. Alas! all these suggestions were, a few weeks later, to hypnotise me to such an extent that, without more proofs than mere circ.u.mstantial evidence, and the denunciations anonymous writers afforded, I accused first Couillard and then Wolff of being the criminal.

Mme. Buisson rarely came to Bellevue now. Pierre came to see Marthe, secretly, from time to time, and held a pistol to my head when he told me in his usual weak, timid and despondent manner, that the murderers would have to be found, or else it would be impossible for him to marry Marthe! An extraordinary dilemma!... This absurd condition revolted my daughter so much that her love for Pierre received a decisive blow, and, burying her head against my breast she cried: "Is that real love?" and burst into sobs.

Meanwhile, the inspectors were at war with each other, as most inspectors are, or so I have since been told. Each had _his_ clue, and derided the clues of his colleagues. But what was worse than that, some were for, and some against me!

One morning, an able investigator who knew exactly what was going on at the _Surete_, and in whom I had the greatest confidence, entered the room at Vert-Logis, where I was sitting with Marthe by my side. He was as white as a sheet.... "Madame," he stammered, "I don't know what underlies this affair, but it seems quite hopeless, things are at an absolute standstill.... The Burlingham clue is given up. It has been established that Mr. Burlingham was far away from Paris at the time of the murder. The 'stolen gowns' remains, of course, as undeniable proof of your innocence, and I still believe that some day the murderers may be arrested, but the case is all over so far as the _Surete_ is concerned.... Ah! If only the 'stolen gowns' clue had been fully investigated _at once_!... It is so obvious that it provided the only way to the solution of the mystery.... The Impa.s.se Ronsin murder case is _cla.s.se_!"

I had more than once complained of the apparent lack of activity and zeal on the part of the authorities, but I could not believe that it had been decided to abandon the whole affair.... I was amazed and pained....

Naturally, I asked the reason for this sudden breaking off of the investigations. No doubt my imagination erred, but in these pages I describe all my thoughts, and it seemed to me that in some way it had been discovered that the main object of the criminals was to get possession of the doc.u.ments. Perhaps only one of the three men in the black gowns knew about them, and he had let the others steal the money and the jewels.... That one of the men had known of the doc.u.ments could not be doubted, for he had demanded them, and I believe that the authorities having at last somehow discovered that there was what one may call a political side to the Impa.s.se Ronsin mystery, were not anxious to go on with the investigations, which, if the whole affair was unravelled, might eventually prove a source of much unpleasantness and embarra.s.sment to certain officials.... Or perhaps--for I went as far as that in my eagerness to solve the problem--the authorities knew all the time the secret of the strange affair, and had made some inquiries, reluctantly, and only for the sake of appearances.... But now, they had had enough and they wished to drop the matter altogether.... A rather wild surmise.... Perhaps they seriously thought that I was guilty, but being unable to establish a strong enough case against me, wanted to give up the whole affair, rather than waste time on investigations which would necessarily be fruitless, since, in their minds I had committed the murder! (That is, had strangled my mother and my husband, concealed the jewels and the money, ransacked the drawers, put everything into confusion, splashed ink on the floor, and then gagged and bound myself, hands, feet and body!)...

The truth is I did not know what to think.... But one thing I knew, and it was this: Three men in black gowns and a red-haired woman had been in my house on the night of May 30th-31st, 1908; they had stolen my money and jewels, and they had murdered my husband and my mother.

Those four persons were somewhere in the world, and, for my daughter's sake and my own, as well as in vindication of the law, I would find them.

CHAPTER XVII

THE THRONE-ROOM

At the end of October--on the 25th, I believe--we left Bellevue, Marthe and I, and returned to Paris, to the house in the Impa.s.se Ronsin. The chief alterations were completed, but there was still a great deal to do in the way of decoration, plumbing, and so on, and the workmen came every day.