Journalists arrived at the house as early as half-past seven in the morning. Some called three or four times a day, and before returning home late at night they would call once more to hear if anything had happened that they would still have time to telephone before the papers went to press.... I was most grateful to them all, for they were working for me, and probably many of them were not responsible for the attacks against me in the journals to which they belonged. "I supply facts, Madame," one confessed to me, "but they are turned into anything that suits the editor or his employers."
I went round to all the Parisian newspaper offices and spoke my mind, and I thought that after this things would improve, and that fair and truthful statements would be the rule in the future.
In the evening, when I returned home exhausted, I was dumbfounded when M. Chabrier (a cousin of my husband and a post-office sorter, to whom I had let an apartment in my house) told me: "Don't be too angry with the Matin. Two of the journalists on the staff, M. de Labruyère and M. Barby, are waiting to see you. They have been here the whole afternoon. Be calm.... I believe they are well-disposed, they will help you.... Don't turn them out...."
I entered the house with Marthe. The table was laid for us in the dining-room. I found these two men seated and waiting. I told them that since I had said I would not be back till the evening, they should not have presumed to spend the afternoon in my house, especially as the journal to which they belonged was my bitterest foe. M. de Labruyère, extolled the Matin, explained that it was only a matter of misunderstanding, that M. Bunau-Varilla (the proprietor of the Matin) was extremely sorry.... He showed me a letter of M. Marcel Hutin of the Echo de Paris, in which the latter begged me to receive his friend and advised me not to decline the assistance of the Matin.
I was rather surprised, for it is unusual for Parisian journalists on the staff of rival newspapers to help one another in what they call a "big story." True, M. de Labruyère and M. Hutin were great friends, but I had seen so many instances of fierce rivalry amongst journalists during the past few days, that I could hardly believe what I read.
At the time, however, I had full confidence in M. Hutin, who was on excellent terms with a sculptor friend of mine, and, turning to the two journalists, I said: "I am quite ready to believe in the goodwill of the Matin. I shall continue reading the articles on my case which appear in its columns, and shall judge from them whether that goodwill is genuine."
M. de Labruyère then said: "Madame, M. Bunau-Varilla places at your disposal as much money as you may want to follow all the clues that you may suggest, and if you disbelieve me, please ask for an audience from M. Bunau-Varilla."
Although I was tired out and in no mood to laugh, I could not help smiling at the pompous, yet hushed tone of M. de Labruyère, when he mentioned "an audience" with his almighty chief.
"I will think of it later on," I replied. "I wish first of all to see how the Matin will deal with the Impasse Ronsin affair and with me."
M. de Labruyère was about to leave when I was suddenly startled by the flare and click of a flash-light. M. Barby had taken a flash-light photograph of my daughter and myself. I was angry, but the wary M. de Labruyère explained: "Believe me, Madame, nothing could be more useful to your cause than the publication in our journal of a photograph of you and Mdlle. Steinheil quietly dining together in this house where the crime took place. People will think: if Mme. Steinheil can eat in the place where her husband and her mother were murdered, then she must be innocent." I shrugged my shoulders, and bade the two journalists good-bye.