To Lachaussee the reply was given that he must wait till the day when the seals were broken, and then if all was as he said, his property would be returned.

But Lachaussee was not the only person who was agitated about the death of Sainte-Croix.  The, marquise, who was familiar with all the secrets of this fatal closet, had hurried to the commissary as 2496 soon as she heard of the event, and although it was ten o’clock at night had demanded to speak with him.  But he had replied by his head clerk, Pierre Frater, that he was in bed; the marquise insisted, begging them to rouse him up, for she wanted a box that she could not allow to have opened.  The clerk then went up to the Sieur Picard’s bedroom, but came back saying that what the marquise demanded was for the time being an impossibility, for the commissary was asleep.  She saw that it was idle to insist, and went away, saying that she should send a man the next morning to fetch the box.  In the morning the man came, offering fifty Louis to the commissary on behalf of the marquise, if he would give her the box.  But he replied that the box was in the sealed room, that it would have to be opened, and that if the objects claimed by the marquise were really hers, they would be safely handed over to her.  This reply struck the marquise like a thunderbolt.  There was no time to be lost:  hastily she removed from the rue Neuve-Saint-Paul, where her town house was, to Picpus, her country place.  Thence she posted the same evening to Liege, arriving the next morning, and retired to a convent.

The seals had been set on the 31st of July 1672, and they were taken off on the 8th of August following.  Just as they set to work a lawyer charged with full powers of acting for the marquise, appeared and put in the following statement:  “Alexandre Delamarre, lawyer acting for the Marquise de Brinvilliers, has come forward, and declares that if in the box claimed by his client there is found a promise signed by her for the sum of 30,000 livres, it is a paper taken from her by fraud, against which, in case of her signature being verified, she intends to lodge an appeal for nullification.”  This formality over, they proceeded to open Sainte-Croix’s closet:  the key was handed to the commissary Picard by a Carmelite called Friar Victorin.  The commissary opened the door, and entered with the parties interested, the officers, and the widow, and they began by setting aside the loose papers, with a view to taking them in order, one at a time.  While they were thus busy, a small roll fell down, on which these two words were written:  “My Confession.”  All present, having no reason to suppose Sainte-Croix a bad man, decided that this paper ought not to be read.  The deputy for the attorney general on being consulted was of this opinion, and the confession of Sainte-Croix was burnt.  This act of conscience performed, they proceeded to make an inventory.  One of the first objects that attracted the attention of the officers was the box claimed by Madame de Brinvilliers.  Her insistence had provoked curiosity, so they began with it.  Everybody went near to see what was in it, and it was opened.