At that very moment, a whole band of journalists literally burst into the house.... Some of them actually entered through the windows on the ground floor. They surrounded me, and such was the babel they made that I could hear only fragments of sentences: "Have you heard.... A jeweller has said that... there is an incident... Couillard... the ring...."

Flashlight explosions startled me at every moment.... A thousand questions were hurled at me.... One journalist on the staff of the _Gaulois_ asked to photograph my hand because there was a "ring-story"

coming out....

I was ill and I was bewildered. There have been many days in my life when shock has followed shock and emotion emotion, as if some pitiless fate were trying to crush me, but that day, November 25, 1908, was undoubtedly the most painful, the most harrowing in my whole existence.

Whilst I tried to answer the questions of the journalists, since they would not leave me alone until I did, various people came to visit the apartments which were to let. (I had already let the vast studio, with its antique furniture, to a foreign artist for 320 a year. The three-years' lease was signed, but my arrest altered everything, and the lease was made null and void.)

After the journalists had gone, I tried to draw up an inventory of the silver, furniture, and linen in the apartments I wished to let, but the pen shook in my hand and I had to give up the attempt.

Lunch-time came. It was impossible for me to eat. I had lost all appet.i.te, and besides, journalists once more invaded the house. Why did I not barricade my door? For the simple reason that the workmen, who were now nearing the end of their task, came and went constantly. Some brought rolls of wall-paper; others took away boards, ladders, tools....

And whenever the gate was open to a workman, one or several reporters would rush in behind him. Besides, I have no doubt that had everything been barricaded against them, they would have jumped over the wall, as I had seen at least one do....

Inspector Pouce came and said to me: "Take your jewels with you; they will be wanted."

I fetched them, and with the inspector drove to the Palace of Justice in a taxi. On the way I noticed that Inspector Pouce looked extremely sad.

I told him so.

"Oh, Madame," he said, "if I were in your place, I should probably have lost my reason long ago. How those who, thinking they were doing the right thing, urged you to seek the a.s.sistance of the Press, and to make fresh endeavours to trace the murderers, must regret it now that they realise what martyrdom you have endured... a martyrdom which has not yet come to an end."

I listened to Inspector Pouce, but did not understand him. I was too numb and broken. How I should have loved to sleep.... I said so to my companion. My head felt so heavy.... I almost fell asleep in the taxi.

At the Palace of Justice I was received by Maitre Aubin and M.

Steinhardt, his secretary. The former looked very pleased: "Things are going on very well," he exclaimed. "Couillard has made several interesting statements already.... By the way, there is something that worries me for your sake. Are you sure you have not two pearls alike? If so, you had better say it."

I did not reply, but went alone into M. Leydet's _Cabinet_. Through an open door, I saw him, in the next room, walking up and down.

He came in and bowed to me, as usual, but I noticed he was extremely pale.

"Bring in Couillard," M. Leydet ordered, "his counsel, M. Bouin, the jewel-expert, M. Gaillard, and M. Souloy."

When they had all come and sat down, M. Leydet, in a voice that shook with emotion, explained to me that M. Souloy had made a statement....

I was dumbfounded. I did not mind the fact that M. Souloy had made a statement, evidently about the pearl. What upset me was the fact that he had done so too soon, before Couillard had made a full confession of all he knew. "So, that is what you have done, M. Souloy," I exclaimed. "And this after I had called on you and told you we should have to go to M.

Hamard, one day."...

"Madame," said the jeweller, "my conscience..."

I suddenly found myself unable to think clearly, unable to realise things.... M. Souloy had made the _talisman_ years ago.... He knew me well. Surely he could not believe me capable of a wicked action. Why had he come spontaneously to M. Leydet to "make a statement." Did he take me for a criminal? What did it all mean?...

M. Leydet and the others gave all kinds of explanations. I was unable to follow them.... Then, M. Leydet said to me: "You had _two_ 'new-art'

rings, had you not? One stolen by Couillard and the other handed to M.

Souloy?"

I could have replied just the word "Yes," and Couillard was lost, but although everything was blurred in my mind, I saw that it would be criminal to do such a thing, and that whatever Couillard might have done, I had no right to tell falsehoods, and I replied, "no, only one."

M. Leydet looked at me, with almost haggard eyes, I repeated, "Only one."

"But do you realise the gravity of what you are saying?"

Thereupon one of Souloy's employees came in, and looked at me fixedly and in a way that terrified me. And I thought of certain words spoken by M. Sauerwein, of the _Matin_.

After Couillard's arrest, M. Sauerwein, no doubt in order to make me forget his insults and his fantastic accusations in connection with the Rossignol "clue," had come to tell me, "I know the jeweller who bought the jewels stolen on the night of the murder. He is a receiver of stolen goods.... I must not tell you his name.... He has a wife and children.

He is afraid of being lynched, if he were discovered.... But he is in my power...." And I was mad enough to believe M. Sauerwein.

When I saw M. Souloy's clerk, I felt sure he was the man M. Sauerwein had spoken of. I thought that he could be employed and at the same time be a "receiver." For several hours I was questioned, but I replied in a vague manner....

Later, I felt so faint that Maitre Aubin was called in.... M. Leydet watched me in a strange manner, and said many things which I did not understand.... And then, with Maitre Aubin, I left the room. He asked me to meet him the next morning; he wanted to have a serious talk with me, and afterwards we could call together on M. Leydet.

"Why not talk things over to-night?" I suggested.

"No, no; I am not free now."

Had Maitre Aubin been "free" that night, I should probably not have been a prisoner the next day. Then he added, "Above all, don't receive a single journalist."

But when I went home with Marthe, who had come to fetch me, it was in the company of a journalist, and in the house I found two more, one belonging to the _Gaulois_, and the other to the _Pet.i.t Journal_, who had been waiting for me!

Both, however, were extremely polite, and when I told them that I was dead beat, and that I would perhaps see them the next morning, they bowed and walked away.

A representative of the _Temps_ also came, and asked: "What is all this trouble about your jewels, your rings?... Can we do anything for you?"... He spoke softly, courteously, and I was thankful to him, but I had nothing to say.

I sank into an arm-chair. Marthe, near me, sobbed. She said she had been told at the Palace of Justice that I would be arrested.... It was heartrending to see her tears.

At about nine o'clock, just as I was about to return to my room, for, even on the day after the crime, I had not felt so utterly broken down, Mariette came to say that M. Barby had arrived. The _Matin_ again! Then M. Hutin, of the _Echo de Paris_, entered the room.

Before I could utter a single word M. Hutin exclaimed angrily, almost coa.r.s.ely, just as if he had every right to invade my home and speak to me as he pleased: "Ah! that's the way you go on! And I was stupid enough to take up your case! So you have been making a fool of me! What have you been up to, eh?... The black gowns: that's a fable! Your jewels: none have been stolen! The money: there was none! You will have to tell me the truth...."

"Leave this house," I said; "I haven't the strength to argue with you."...

He gave a wicked little laugh, and went on, "Everybody is against you now. It is not Couillard they should have arrested. It is your lover..."

My lover! I thought of M. Bdl., whom I had not seen for months, and I said to myself, "What! they are going to arrest him! What is the matter?... What do they want?"...

The door was flung open. M. de Labruyere rushed in. He gesticulated frantically, and looked even more angry and threatening than M.

Hutin....

"You are a wretch, nothing but a wretch," he began. "It's dreadful.

Couillard is innocent; he never stole the pearl."...

I interrupted him. "Have pity on me. I have not slept for four days.

Leave me in peace. I have nothing to tell to either of you. I am ill, can't you see I am ill?"

They shrugged their shoulders. M. de Labruyere went on: "I have just left the Minister of Justice. There is only the _Matin_ and the _Echo de Paris_ who can save you. You will do as you are told. If you don't, then you, your daughter, your brother, your lover, the Chabriers, you will all be arrested.... Your cousin Meissonier has already been arrested. A whole squadron of cuira.s.siers has surrounded his house at Poissy to save him from the fury of mob.... The Impa.s.se is blocked with people. Your house is surrounded. There is an immense crowd outside, and they want to set the house on fire, want to lynch you."...

I listened to all this, but I did not understand. I listened so intently that every word spoken that night left an indelible mark in my mind. Had I understood, I would have realised that they were recklessly lying in order to wrench from me a confession, which I could not make since I was innocent, and that, however ill and distracted I was, I ought somehow to have summoned up enough authority to have made them leave the house.

Then, the tune changed. Intimidation had achieved its aim. I was before the two men, trembling, incapable of defending myself. They could now try another method: the sympathetic. After strong drama, pathos.

"Poor woman, tell us the truth. We are your best, your only friends....

Confess, if not for your sake, then for the sake of your daughter, the unfortunate little Marthe, who is there sobbing, in that room. Speak to us, and you are saved. We are the only people who can save you both! Be quick, be quick. Listen to the mob outside. Can you hear it?"...