A young man with long dark hair, and a sallow complexion, and wearing a shabby grey suit, was brought in and guided to the witnesses' bar. In a dazed, hesitating manner, he declared that his name was Lefèvre, that he was twenty-one.... I eagerly looked at him, but he did not remind me of any one I had seen on the night of the crime.
In answer to questions put to him by the President, he replied:
"I wrote that letter because I was an accomplice of the assassin. I was dressed as a woman, and wore this red wig. We burnt the gowns in the forest of Montmorency.... My friend is dead.... I dressed as a woman in a dark street. My friend had a key.... I was like a madman, and followed my friend, who said there was money.... We went upstairs with electric pocket-lamps. I remained near the door of Mme. Steinheil's room. My friend asked her where the money and the jewels were.... He disappeared and came back.... Then we rushed down-stairs. Outside he told me that he had found 8000 francs (£310). My friend went away without giving me anything...."
It was clear that the young man was either a lunatic or a strange impostor.
My examination was continued. There was a long argument about the ink-stains found on the carpet and on my knee, and about the way in which I was bound....
Tortured by the necessity of having to reply—satisfactorily—to searching questions which to me, innocent as I was, seemed useless and incomprehensible, rendered quite ill by the long and gruesome discussion about the fatal night, I once more sank back, exhausted, on my bench, and burst into a violent fit of weeping.... And that was only the end of the second hearing of my trial which my counsel told me was to last at least ten days!
Directly he had taken his seat the next day (Friday, November 5th), the President turned to the jury, and said: "I owe you an explanation, gentlemen, about the stupid incident which made us waste so much valuable time yesterday. The young man whom you saw is not called Lefèvre; his real name is René Collard. He made up his mind to see Mme. Steinheil. I thought I had taken all possible precautions to guard the doors, but I had forgotten this extraordinary means of invasion. It has been found that Collard wrote to M. Hamard, to M. André.... This young man longed to see Mme. Steinheil. The incident is now closed."
After this, my ordeal began again.
The President questioned me about the "grandfather"-clock, in the hall, which stopped at 12.12 on the night of the crime. After mentioning that I said I had heard my mother cry: "Meg, Meg..." just after the last stroke of the hour, he expressed his surprise that the murderers could have killed two persons, gagged and bound a third, and ransacked drawers—in twelve minutes.
I could have replied that possibly my husband had been murdered before I heard my mother cry, that the murderers, as they left the house, might have put the clock back, that they acted, no doubt, as quickly as possible, especially if, as I have always been convinced, they came to steal, not to kill.... But I had only one thought: I, Marguerite Steinheil-Japy, am accused of murder!