The Press., 1898-06-09
THE POISONER.

THE POISONER.
 I have said little about poisoning, re- marks M. de Goron, ex-chief of detect ives of Paris, ill his recently published Memoirs" not because the crime is less common than formerly, but because science has made it so difficult of detec- tion and chance so seldom puts proof into the hands of the police.
 It was chance, however, that permit ted me on one occasion to detect poi soner. ....
 A commercial traveller, M. X. had his letters addressed post restante at the Theatre Francais bureau. One morning, unexpectedly called back to town, he was astonished to see at the postoffice on little blue envelope handwrit- ing unfamiliar to him. Opening it, he read:
 My WELL BELovED-T have seen your hus- band and have observed with satisfaction that the disease has made serious progress His lips are quite white, his eyes hollow, his coun- tenance ashen. think we can hope to be rid of him in month.
 < row.
 The poor drummer at first thought it hoax, but refecting that chance might have put into his hands the proof of an adulterous crime which would have had sinister end, he hurried to the office of the surete bearing the title blue accuser, which he handed to me.
 l turned it over in my hands, surpris- ed that criminals who could plan such an infamous crime should forget the elementary precautions.
 wondered if it were not practical joke, merely to make work for the po- lice. Then l reflected that most big crimes are discovered by the criminals imprudence, and I resolved to investi- gate.
 My duty was to solve the mystery. I had the postoffioe watched.
 Early next morning a pretty young woman called to get the letter.
 She was frightened when an officer very politely took her by the arm and led her to carriage.
 No one saw the arrest. The carriage was already on it's way when the wom- an demanded:
 "Where are you taking me, sir?''
 ''To the chief of detectives, madam. ,"
 She fell back and said no more, but her hands shook nervously and her lips were bloodless.
 Large, graceful, beautiful, still young, the woman was dressed with the severe elegance of the prosperous bour- geoise. She was a blond, whose blue eyes, marked round with blister, and whose mobile features seemed to mirror all her reflections.
 By the manner in which she entered the office I knew she was woman of the world. She sat down, nervously beating on the table. Her gesture was abrupt her voice hoarse, and there was an odd look i'll her eye.
 "What do you wish?" she said. "Why am I, an honest woman, brought here?'' ....
 tried to calm her, but her voice be- came harsher as she cried: "It's infa- nous need not tell you my name. "
 Then, with due regard to dramatic effect, I handed her the blue envelope.
 She fell on her knees, crying in a voice broken by sobs: Mercy! Mercyl I am an unhappy womanl I am poi soner! Yes 1 wished to kill my hus- band But alone am to blame. He had to obey me. Punish no one but me.
 ''If you knew, '" she went on, "how I hate my husband To see him there, al ways near me, is torture worse than death. love the young man who wrote that note with all my soul. WOh him I am in heaven. But to go home and endure my husband S embrace, his lips upon my cheek-it is like fire. At any cost he must diel l prefer crime to that agony of every minute, every second. But I swear alone am guilty Punish me. have merited death, but spare him, I pray youl''
 Almost at the moment she seized pair of scissors from my desk and would have stabbed herself had not her hand been staid.
 I forced her to sit down and told her how much better it was that the crime had been discovered, and by gentle means l got from the weeping woman the name and address of her lover. Then bade her wait in a neighboring room under guard.
 sent out agents to arrest the lover and meanwhile questioned her again. She said she didn't know what the pow der Was The lover had sent it at her request for something "slow and sure. "
 Two hours later the men brought in M. Leon E., the gayest assassin they ever saw, they said.
 "Well, we'll, he had laughed as he saw the men file in, "this is funny. never thought it would turn out so com ical.'
 And all the way to my office he couldn't stop laughing. He laughed even when he entered my room. I was obliged to recall to him the gravity of the accusation. He was kind of smooth dandy of 25 or 26, with brown mus taohe and the conquering eye.
 Pardon me, sir" he said. ''It's so funny can't help it. '
 You call poisoning funny?" de- manded.
 "A poisoningI He, he, ho. hol An, if you knew you'd laugh with mel''
 "Go on; speak, said sternly.
 We'll, the story is queer. Mme x. is pretty, amiable, and, my faith, was very happy. But such an imagination she had l You understand, she'd say to me, pointing to her husband, reading a picture paper there in his own house, that man must disappear I can't bear it year after year. He must die. It seemed funny to me-for I'm not atrag- io lover-so I replied in hollow voice: You wish poison? You shall have it. Three times a week eent J