greater importance, as they implicated both her and her servant,
La Chaussee, in the recent murders. As soon as she was informed of the
death of Sainte Croix, she made an attempt to gain possession of his
papers and the box; but, being refused, she saw that there was no time to
be lost, and immediately quitted. Next morning the police were on her
trail; but she succeeded in escaping to England. La Chaussee was not so
fortunate. Altogether ignorant of the fatal mischance which had brought
his villanies to light, he did not dream of danger. He was arrested and
brought to trial: being put to the torture, he confessed that he had
administered poison to the Messieurs d'Aubray, and that he had received a
hundred pistoles, and the promise of an annuity for life, from Sainte
Croix and Madame de Brinvilliers, for the job. He was condemned to be
broken alive on the wheel, and the marchioness was, by default, sentenced
to be beheaded. He was executed accordingly, in March 1673, on the Place
de Greve, in Paris.

La Brinvilliers appears to have resided for nearly three years in England.
Early in 1676, thinking that the rigour of pursuit was over, and that she
might venture to return to the Continent, she proceeded secretly to Liege.
Notwithstanding her care, the French authorities were soon apprised of her
return; and arrangements were promptly made with the municipality of that
city to permit the agents of the French police to arrest her within the
limits of their jurisdiction. Desgrais, an officer of the _marechaussee_,
accordingly left Paris for that purpose. On his arrival in Liege, he found
that she had sought shelter within the walls of a convent. Here the arm of
the law, long as it is said to be, could not reach her: but Desgrais was
not a man to be baffled, and he resorted to stratagem to accomplish what
force could not. Having disguised himself as a priest, he sought admission
to the convent, and obtained an interview with La Brinvilliers. He said,
that being a Frenchman, and passing through Liege, he could not leave that
city without paying a visit to a lady whose beauty and misfortunes were so
celebrated. Her vanity was flattered by the compliment. Desgrais saw, to
use a vulgar but forcible expression, "that he had got on the blind side
of her;" and he adroitly continued to pour out the language of love and
admiration till the deluded marchioness was thrown completely off her
guard. She agreed, without much solicitation, to