I had been told the only way to stimulate investigations was to let the Press take the matter in hand.... But before I did that I wished to make one more attempt at interesting the law in the Impa.s.se Ronsin case.

I called on the _Procureur de la Republique_, who was then M. Monnier, at the Palace of Justice. Marthe accompanied me, and was present at the interview, which I will relate with _absolute_ accuracy. M. Monnier, a very small man, with an expressionless face, and eyes that seemed to avoid meeting the eyes of those who addressed him, asked me what I wished.

"I have come," I began, "to entreat you to give orders for the various clues not to be abandoned, but followed up with the utmost vigour...."

The _Procureur_ seemed quite surprised. Then, without hesitation, and in a lordly and lazy tone which clearly meant, "This affair does not interest me in the least," he replied: "Madame, we are following up some clues.... There's the Noretti clue--a friend of Mr. Burlingham--for instance.... That person is in Nice.... If you want us to go on with that clue it would be better for you to go to Nice yourself... and pay your expenses, of course...."

I started and said: "What! I should pay to a.s.sist the law in tracing the murderers!... Why! I have spent enough money as it is.... Even when I was asked to go to Boulogne for that examination--which you know I might have refused to go through, because of the state of my health--I had to pay about one hundred francs out of my own pocket for the motor-ambulance which took me!"...

The _Procureur_ then said: "I should not mention Boulogne, if I were you.... Do you know that I prevented your arrest that day?"...

I could hardly believe what I heard. His cold hard words and tone stung me into revolt, and I exclaimed: "I wish I had been arrested. There was and there is nothing against me. You would have had to release me almost immediately. I should have been vindicated, and all attacks would have ceased.... You know there exists nothing against me!"...

"That's just why I prevented your arrest, Madame."

What could I reply to that. I shrugged my shoulders and waited. The _Procureur_ pursued: "Really, why don't you keep quiet.... I fail to see what you expect of life!... You have your daughter, you have still a few friends.... What more do you want!... Also I read in the _New York Herald_ that you are going to let part of your house--to wealthy Americans, I presume?"...

"Do you waste your time, then, reading 'apartment' advertis.e.m.e.nts, _Monsieur le Procureur_?" I remarked.... "As a matter of fact, I am trying to let part of my house, but I have found no tenant yet.... There are other people I am more anxious to find: the murderers.... Public rumours, as you are well aware, give out that I am the guilty person, and this must cease. The law must do its duty...."

Once again M. Monnier's eyebrows went up in surprise. He sighed, and then, looking not at me but at my daughter, he replied, in the same hopelessly slow and bored tone: "We do our very best, Madame, I a.s.sure you.... I can only say you have the affection of your daughter, a few friends, a pretty house, enough to live upon.... What more do you want?... Really, really, you should never expect too much of life."

Indignant, I arose and, followed by Marthe, I walked to the door. There I turned and retorted: "No, I am not satisfied. I do expect more of life--above all, more justice. My daughter's life, my own, are being ruined because you don't care to find the murderers. I shall go on trying to trace them, even though the law, for some reason that I ignore, is not inclined to search for them. You cannot deny, sir, that certain clues have not been followed up as rapidly and as thoroughly as they should have been."

Thereupon I left the room with my daughter.

My first remark applied, as the reader has no doubt guessed, to the "stolen gowns." Who could deny that had something been done _at once_, there would have been a great chance of tracing and arresting the criminals? I do not say that it would have been an easy matter to watch every person connected with the Hebrew Theatre, or to find out all who were sufficiently conversant with the ways of the theatre to have been likely to steal the three gowns and the cloak which a few hours later were worn by the three men and the red-haired woman! But, whether an easy or a difficult task, it ought at least to have been attempted--and _at once_. The crime took place on May 30th-31st, 1908; the two cards which led to the discovery that three gowns and one cloak had been stolen from the Hebrew Theatre, were found in the Underground on the next day, May 31st. Only on the 10th of June were M. Guilbert, and Mlle.

Rallet, M. Goldstein, M. Feinberg and others connected with the Hebrew Theatre interrogated.... After that, nothing was done--except following the Burlingham and Noretti clues which were an indirect outcome of the affair of the stolen gowns--although one would think that any normal mind would have thought that those stolen gowns held the key to the whole mystery! It was only _after_ my arrest, in December 1908, and during the early months of 1909, that, obviously in the hope of destroying the importance of the "stolen gowns" affair, the various witnesses connected with it were re-examined!... But what was the use of these investigations, seven to ten months _after_ the discovery of the theft--a discovery which exhibited beyond a shadow of doubt that my account of the tragedy was accurate? The three men and the red-haired woman were, of course, by that time out of reach.

Here let me quote some remarks made by Maitre Antony Aubin at the trial, on the subject of the law's unpardonable lack of enterprise in the matter of the stolen gowns: "What I regret is that, during the first days which followed the crime, the police did not make full investigations--by order of the judge in charge of the murder case--among those chorists of all nationalities in this cosmopolitan group. What I regret is that this group, the most international one conceivable--and therefore the most elusive was not carefully 'sifted,'

what I regret is that these nomads were allowed, during the first days of June, to scatter themselves abroad without interference. What I regret above all is that after so slight a search--nay, no search at all, at a time when the mystery could have been cleared up, the unfortunate woman was mercilessly tortured.... How she is to be pitied, this poor woman, borne down under the weight of so many suspicions when _thorough_ and _immediate_ investigations might have led to the discovery of those who murdered her husband and her mother. Had it then been forgotten that, not only did she give an exact description of the stolen costumes, but that she had even mentioned the foreign accent of one of the a.s.sa.s.sins and the Italian accent of the woman! Now, go and try, throughout the world, to trace the wretches!"

And Maitre Aubin, with relentless logic, added: "It would be rash to a.s.sert that the criminals should not have been looked for outside the staff of the Hebrew Theatre. Could they not have been amongst the group of fifteen to twenty persons--artists' models, Montmartre types--who, according to Mlle. Rallet, were at Guilbert's on the day when the costumes were hired, on May 27th? Could not the order given that day have been overheard, the messenger followed on the Sat.u.r.day to the theatre, where you (gentlemen of the jury) know how robbery, undeniably the preface to the crime, was easy for any one. And could not this 'any one' be found amongst the mixed crowd, chiefly composed of foreigners, attending the performances at the Hebrew Theatre?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: A VIEW OF THE HOUSE IN THE IMPa.s.sE RONSIN

The ten-foot windows of the studio only visible]

After the interview with M. Monnier, the Attorney-General, I returned home, to the Impa.s.se Ronsin, with Marthe. For many hours I turned the problem over and over in my mind, and all the time I heard the words of the _Procureur_: "You have your daughter, a few friends, a nice house...

what more do you want!"... Oh, that att.i.tude of bored superiority and indifference! Oh, the condescending _blase_, supercilious manner in which I had been told: "We do our very best, I a.s.sure you!"...

Meanwhile, life was made quite unbearable to both Marthe and me.

Insulting letters reached me day after day. Certain journals had begun to tear away the almost transparent veil which so far had covered their attacks of me, and the murderers were at large, undisturbed!... I should hardly have been worthy to be called human if I had not been in a state of rebellion against this intolerable position.

I had gone from Bellevue to see M. Hamard, but nothing had come from the visit, and after my interview with M. Monnier, I went once more to the head of the Criminal Investigation Department. Marthe was with me. The darling insisted on following me everywhere, for two reasons which may seem contradictory, but which nevertheless often go together: first, because she dreaded to be alone, and was frightened to the verge of collapse whenever I was away from her; and secondly, because she wanted to give me courage.

M. Hamard seemed very much annoyed at seeing me, although he did not make me wait. M. Chabrier, a cousin of my husband, had joined my daughter and me, but they both had to remain in another room, for M.

Hamard received me alone. I explained to him the object of my visit, urged him to give up half-hearted methods, and to see that no efforts were spared in the search of the murderers. And I insisted on the importance of the "Underground cards" clue.

M. Hamard spoke the same words as the _Procureur_: "Madame, I a.s.sure you that we do our best...." He added a few, vague, common-place remarks, but concluded in a different tone, and with genuine sincerity. "I will look for the murderers until I find them!"

In spite of this last remark, I got a clear impression that the _Affaire de l'Impa.s.se Ronsin_, as I had been told, was _cla.s.see_.

On the way home I remained silent, but as we entered the garden, I took my daughter in my arms, and said: "Marthe, I will fight to the end, come what may. I owe it to you, to your father and your grandmother, and to myself." She gave me a long kiss, and big tears rolled down her cheeks as she whispered: "You are right, maman, the murderers will be found, and... Pierre, perhaps, will come back to me!" She had not yet quite forgotten him....

During the last days of October, I saw M. Marcel Hutin, who had often told me that the Press was almighty, and that he placed himself at my disposal. If the newspapers took up my case, the a.s.sa.s.sins would soon fall into the hands of the police. I believed him. I would at that time have believed any one who promised to help me to get at the truth.

Marthe, my few remaining friends, every member of my family, inspectors--all advised me to go on with the case.... My mind was irrevocably made up.

With M. Hutin's a.s.sistance, I wrote a letter to his newspaper, the _Echo de Paris_. In that letter, which was published on October 31st, 1908, I mentioned the lukewarmness and lethargy of those in charge of the case, and solemnly a.s.serted my intention of continuing investigations, and avenging the dead. The letter created a deep sensation, and was everywhere reproduced. My house was a.s.sailed by journalists; I was in the hands of the Press.

On the day when the letter appeared, we went, Marthe and I, to the cemetery at L'Hay, a little village in the neighbourhood of Paris, where M. Steinheil was buried. Together we arranged the tomb, and decorated it with flowers, and--prayed....

When we reached the Impa.s.se in the afternoon, we found it invaded by a score of journalists, who rushed to us and overwhelmed me with questions... but I firmly declared that I had nothing to add, for the present, to what I had said in my letter to the _Echo de Paris_.

Shortly afterwards, Marthe and I went by train to Breteuil, where my brother Julien lived. We arrived there in the evening and had a long conversation about the mystery. Like so many others, Julien thought a campaign in the newspapers the only means of getting at the truth. "Tell them what you know, what you think. Let them a.s.sist you in the search for the murderers.... In less than a month our mother and your husband will be avenged, and you will be triumphantly vindicated of all these vile insinuations...."

Poor Julien--and poor me. In less than a month, I was... in prison!

The next morning--All Saints' Day--we ran through the newspapers--my brother, Marthe, and I... and were astounded. In every one of them whole columns were devoted to the murder mystery, to my letter published in the _Echo de Paris_. Some approved; others criticised. Some praised my courage; others made it clear that they considered this daring, reckless move of mine a sign of my guilt! One journal--one which always knows everything--probably irritated because my letter, re-opening the case, as it were, had appeared elsewhere, described my visit to the cemetery at L'Hay, and did not hesitate to say that I had driven there in a closed carriage with drawn blinds, like a guilty person.... As a matter of fact, as the weather was splendid, and I thought that the country air would do both Marthe and me much good, we had driven to the cemetery in an open carriage.

Is it difficult to realise the harm such an untruthful comment in a newspaper, read by hundreds of thousands of persons, did to my case?

Marthe sobbed; my brother was furious, and I, profoundly hurt, wondered what to do.

"Go and see Maitre Aubin," Julien suggested, "and the sooner the better...."

Marthe and I returned to Paris. I called on Maitre Aubin, who I found was reading the newspapers.

"I am bewildered," he began. "Why did you not tell me you were writing to M. Hutin?"...

"I was told that the Press would help me.... My conscience is clear. I fear nothing, and no one. We will succeed...."

"I have no doubt about it," said Maitre Aubin.

"Until now, I have refused to talk to journalists, but in future I will reply to all their questions, if only they will help me. And if certain papers attack me, or publish false statements, you will have to put a stop to it. The die is cast; I will go to the end of this mystery, and reach the truth."

Maitre Aubin was somewhat bewildered. At the same time I could see that he was glad to find me so determined.

Shortly afterwards I went to the Palace of Justice to see M. Leydet and M. Grandjean the _Procureur's Subst.i.tut_. Maitre Aubin had written to them that, dissatisfied with the apparent sluggishness and indifference with which the Impa.s.se Ronsin case had been conducted, I had decided to take him, Aubin, as _avocat-conseil_.

I entreated M. Grandjean to see things as they were: "Try to understand my position," I said. "You are a friend of M. Buisson. You know exactly what my circ.u.mstances are, and you, M. Leydet, have known me for years.... Are you not both aware that the marriage of my daughter to M.

Buisson's son will be broken off unless we get at the truth? M. Buisson, like every one else, is convinced that the affair has been abandoned....

_You_ can deny this... if it is wrong; you can declare that the detectives are at work... if they are! You know that I am innocent.

Well, say so; do something.... It is your duty."

M. Grandjean, instead of replying to my question, stammered: "But, Madame, it is appalling.... You have raised the newspapers; things are in such a state that we cannot leave the Palace without being pestered and mobbed by an army of reporters. Life for us has become an inferno...."