CHAPTER ONE
Before the Trial
My Arrest
Slowly consciousness returned. I opened my eyes. The room was in darkness. All was still. Suddenly the silence was broken by the bang of a closing door which startled me out of my stupor. Where was I? Why was I alone? What awful thing had happened? A flash of memory! My husband was dead! I drifted once more away from the things of sense. Then a voice, as if a long way off, spoke. A feeling of pain and distress shot through my body. I opened my eyes in terror. Edwin Maybrick was bending over me as I lay upon my bed. He had my arms tightly gripped, and was shaking me violently. “I want your keys—do you hear? Where are your keys?” he exclaimed harshly. I tried to form a reply, but the words choked me, and once more I passed into unconsciousness.
It is the dawn of a Sabbath day.[1] I am still lying in my clothes, neglected and uncared for; without food since the morning of the day before. Consciousness came and went. During one of these interludes Michael Maybrick entered.
“Nurse,” he said, “I am going up to London. Mrs. Maybrick is no longer mistress of this house. As one of the executors I forbid you to allow her to leave this room. I hold you responsible in my absence.”
He then left the room. What did he mean? How dare he humble me thus in the presence of a stranger?
Toward the night of the same day I said to the nurse, “I wish to see my children.” She took no notice. My voice was weak, and I thought perhaps she had not heard. “Nurse,” I repeated, “I want to see my children.” She walked up to my bed, and in a cold, deliberate voice replied: “You can not see Master James and Miss Gladys. Mr. Michael Maybrick gave orders that they were to leave the house without seeing you.” I fell back upon my pillow, dazed and stricken, weak, helpless, and impotent. Why was I treated thus? My brain reeled in seeking a reply to this query. At last I could bear it no longer, and my soul cried out to God to let me die. A third dreary night, and the day broke once again. I was still prostrate. The dull pain at my heart, the yearning for my little children, was becoming unbearable, but I was dumb.
Suddenly the door opened and Dr. Humphreys entered. He walked silently to my bedside, felt my pulse, and without a word left the room. A few minutes later I heard the tramp of many feet coming up-stairs. They stopped at the door. The nurse advanced, and a crowd of men entered. One of them stepped to the foot of the bed and addressed me as follows:
“Mrs. Maybrick, I am superintendent of the police, and I am about to say something to you. After I have said what I intend to say, if you reply be careful how you reply, because whatever you say may be used as evidence against you. Mrs. Maybrick, you are in custody on suspicion of causing the death of your late husband, James Maybrick, on the eleventh instant.” I made no reply, and the crowd passed out.