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Page 16
"The date of this entry is July 16, 1676."
"It is interesting," said I, "but not convincing. How do you
prove the two women to be the same?"
"I am coming to that. The narrative goes on to tell of the
woman's behaviour when questioned. `When the executioner
approached her she recognized him by the cords which he held in his
hands, and she at once held out her own hands to him, looking at
him from head to foot without uttering a word.' How's that?"
"Yes, it was so."
"`She gazed without wincing upon the wooden horse and rings
which had twisted so many limbs and caused so many shrieks of
agony. When her eyes fell upon the three pails of water, which
were all ready for her, she said with a smile, "All that water
must have been brought here for the purpose of drowning me,
Monsieur. You have no idea, I trust, of making a person of my
small stature swallow it all."' Shall I read the details of the
torture?"
"No, for Heaven's sake, don't."
"Here is a sentence which must surely show you that what is
here recorded is the very scene which you have gazed upon tonight:
`The good Abbe Pirot, unable to contemplate the agonies which were
suffered by his penitent, had hurried from the room.' Does that
convince you?"
"It does entirely. There can be no question that it is indeed
the same event. But who, then, is this lady whose appearance was
so attractive and whose end was so horrible?"
For answer Dacre came across to me, and placed the small lamp
upon the table which stood by my bed. Lifting up the ill-omened
filler, he turned the brass rim so that the light fell full upon
it. Seen in this way the engraving seemed clearer than on the
night before.
"We have already agreed that this is the badge of a marquis or
of a marquise," said he. "We have also settled that the last
letter is B."
"It is undoubtedly so."
"I now suggest to you that the other letters from left to right
are, M, M, a small d, A, a small d, and then the final B."
"Yes, I am sure that you are right. I can make out the two
small d's quite plainly."
"What I have read to you tonight," said Dacre, "is the official
record of the trial of Marie Madeleine d'Aubray, Marquise de
Brinvilliers, one of the most famous poisoners and murderers of all
time."
I sat in silence, overwhelmed at the extraordinary nature of
the incident, and at the completeness of the proof with which Dacre
had exposed its real meaning. In a vague way I remembered some
details of the woman's career, her unbridled debauchery, the cold-
blooded and protracted torture of her sick father, the murder of
her brothers for motives of petty gain. I recollected also that
the bravery of her end had done something to atone for the horror
of her life, and that all Paris had sympathized with her last
moments, and blessed her as a martyr within a few days of the
time when they had cursed her as a murderess. One objection, and
one only, occurred to my mind.
"How came her initials and her badge of rank upon the filler?
Surely they did not carry their mediaeval homage to the nobility to
the point of decorating instruments of torture with their titles?"
"I was puzzled with the same point," said Dacre, "but it admits
of a simple explanation. The case excited extraordinary interest
at the time, and nothing could be more natural than that La Reynie,
the head of the police, should retain this filler as a grim
souvenir. It was not often that a marchioness of France underwent
the extraordinary question. That he should engrave her initials
upon it for the information of others was surely a very ordinary
proceeding upon his part."
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