My Memoirs

by Marguerite Steinheil

Question. "Oh! these points are in absolute contradiction to the declaration made by Mme. Herr [my elder sister, who for many years now had been residing in Paris] on June 22nd, 1908. From that, it appears that Mme. Herr, at the end of May, received two letters from your mother; one in which your mother told her of her arrival and added that she would spend the night at her (Mme. Herr's) house, the other wherein she said that you 'claimed' your mother, and that, for that reason, she would put up at your house, on her arrival."

Answer. "I am not at all surprised. My mother may very well have written that.... She may have wanted my sister to believe that I 'claimed' her, so that my sister might not reproach her for putting up with me, thus giving me the preference.... I did not claim, and had no need to 'claim' my mother, that time, since it had already been agreed upon at the beginning of May that she would stay with me.... My mother was to stay until the Sunday, 31st, or the Monday, June 1st. She was coming over to help me in making applications on my brother's behalf.... 'She spent the night of Friday (29th) and Saturday (30th) at the Impasse Ronsin, for our intention was to start together the next morning on a round of calls with the object of assisting my brother. That night my mother slept, as she always did, in my room. In the house, there also slept my husband and Rémy Couillard."

In reply to a Question. "There were three keys to the gate of the door separating the small garden from the Impasse Ronsin. One was in the hands of my husband; Mariette (the cook) had the second, and Rémy Couillard (the valet) had the third. Three months before the murder, Couillard lost his key. Two months before the murder I asked my husband to have the lock of the gate changed, for I feared that some one might enter at night. After the murder I had doubts concerning Couillard, on account of that lost key.... I several times begged my husband to have the lock changed, and Mariette did the same, but he would not consent. He said it meant nothing at all, that thieves that wanted to enter would do so in spite of a locked gate.... I even remember that at Bellevue on May 21st, and in the presence of Count and Countess d'Arlon, M. Maillard, and M. Boeswilwald, I again asked my husband about that lock, pointed out his carelessness, and reminded him of my anxieties."

Question. "How is it that, being so nervous on the matter, and being aware of M. Steinheil's lack of initiative, you did not have the lock changed yourself?"

Answer. "I didn't—I yielded to my husband's remark that thieves were not hindered by a locked gate...."

In reply to a Question. "On the eighteenth of May I went to Bellevue intending to stay there for at least a month. In 1906 and 1907 I had similar stays there. In May 1908, I settled down at Bellevue with the two youngest of the six children of the Buissons, and with Marthe. The only servant there was Mariette. M. Buisson and his son Pierre (the fiancé of Marthe) were in Paris, but came frequently, of course. My husband spent part of his time in Paris, and part of his time at Bellevue. He slept sometimes in Paris, but when he came to sleep at 'Vert-Logis' (the name of our Bellevue villa), he usually let me know by telephone.... Before settling down at Vert-Logis, we concealed in a secret place in the dining-room (a hole in the wall hidden by furniture) the silver plate and also certain jewels...."

In reply to a Question. "To enter the house from the garden there are two doors, one opening on to the butler's pantry, the other on to the verandah. Both these doors were always locked at night, but in order to allow any of us who might come home late to enter, the key of the one door was not left in the lock. The key of the pantry door was then left on a small stand, and that of the main door on a table in the verandah. The one who entered last when he—or she—knew that every one was at home, would leave the key in the door."

In reply to a Question. "After May 18th, my husband slept at Bellevue, or in Paris according to his work. He spent two or three nights a week at the Impasse Ronsin. On such occasions Rémy Couillard slept in his usual room, near the entrance to the attic, above the studio (third floor). But when my husband slept at Vert-Logis, the valet slept in the verandah, on a couch. He had a revolver, which on such occasions my husband handed to him. When my husband returned to the Impasse, Couillard returned the revolver to him—I could not assert that it was regularly returned, for I was at Bellevue at the time, but I have every reason to believe it was, for I have always seen a revolver on my husband's table, whenever he slept in Paris."

In reply to a Question. "I did not go once to Paris between May 18th and Friday, May 29th. I was kept at Bellevue looking after the little Buissons, who were unwell and whom I nursed. I went to Paris on Friday, May 29th, only on account of my mother's arrival. On the previous day, my husband had lunched with us at Bellevue, and had spent the rest of the day and the night there. He told us that day, that Couillard, who was extremely nervous, had replaced 'Dick,' our watch-dog which, as in other years, had come with us to Bellevue, by a dog called 'Turk,' which belonged to M. and Mme. Geoffroy (daughter and son-in-law of Mariette, my cook). My husband said he was furious about it, because the dog had ruined, with its paws, the sketch for a stained-glass window he had just completed. And he added: 'To-morrow morning I shall send that dog back!' On the Friday, May 29th, early in the morning, my husband returned to Paris together with Marthe, who had to attend a lecture that morning, and who was to lunch with her father and, I believe, with Pierre Buisson, at the Impasse Ronsin. It was agreed that I should await Marthe's return before leaving Bellevue to go and meet my mother at the station in Paris. During my absence, Marthe would watch over the little Buissons whom I did not wish to be left alone. During the afternoon, after I had given the children their tea, Marthe returned to Vert-Logis. As had been arranged, Pierre Buisson had come with her, and was to spend the night there, so that the children should be less lonely in the night. My husband was to spend the night in Paris, as he did not wish to let my mother and me be left alone in town. On that Friday, I reached Paris (Montparnasse Station) towards 5 P.M., and went straight, by the Underground, to the Gare de l'Est, where my mother was due at six." When I left Bellevue (the journey to Paris takes twenty minutes by rail) I wore three rings.... (Later on, I will fully explain what has been called "the mystery of the jewels," of which so much was made against me.)

The programme for that evening and the following day was this: My mother was to spend the night at the Impasse Ronsin. My sister, Mme. Herr, would dine with us—but she did not come to the station, and afterwards I heard she was unable to come. At the station, therefore, I was alone to receive my mother. It had been arranged that even in the case of my sister and her family dining on the Saturday evening with us, my mother, my husband, and I would go afterwards to Bellevue to join Marthe and her friends; unless, of course, my mother's state of health would not allow it. On the Friday evening—or the Saturday morning—I received a note from my sister saying she could not come to lunch or to dinner, that she was going to a concert on the Saturday evening, but that she relied on my mother calling on her in the afternoon.