I told him he was mistaken: "Mlle. K. is not my cousin; she is only a close friend of my sister, Mme. Seyrig."
"Had I not been ill recently," said M. Sauerwein, "I would have called on you sooner to tell you all I know about the so-called mystery of the Impasse Ronsin."
"I have seen many journalists," I said, "but I never saw you before. So you have left the Prince of Monaco, whose orderly officer you were, I have been told. You are now on the staff of the Matin.... Will you tell me in what way the Impasse Ronsin mystery interests you?"
M. Sauerwein told me that he had been "passionately interested in the Steinheil affair" from the outset, that he had spoken to M. Bunau-Varilla about the mystery....
To my great surprise, M. de Labruyère said to me: "I prefer to leave you together. What M. Sauerwein has to tell you is no concern of mine."
I refused to let him go. "I beg you to remember, M. de Labruyère, that I have nothing to conceal. Whether M. Sauerwein has made some startling discovery or has merely an interesting fact to disclose, let him speak before you."
I had seldom seen any one look so scornful as M. Sauerwein did then. I pointed out a chair to him, and, sitting down, he began in a melodramatic tone, which, I suppose, was intended to frighten me.
"Since you wish it, let M. de Labruyère remain in the room, but you will regret it when you have heard what I have to say, Madame."
"Come to the point."
"Just as you please. What I have to say is this. I know the murderers of your husband and mother." Then, looking me straight in the eyes, he added: "And you know them too."