In the case of Marchandon, his intention to murder his new mistress without loss of time was shown by the fact that he only hired for a single day the clothes in which he presented himself in the rue de Sèze. He had secured employment in many houses by means of a forged certificate of character, which was so unsatisfactory that it roused the suspicions of the Princess Poniatowski, who had engaged him, but would not allow him to enter her house. She had gone at once to the registry office to warn them, but found that Marchandon had already been placed elsewhere, in fact, with Madame Cornet, his future victim. He proceeded promptly to carry out his crime. Having secured a livery coat as already described, he waited at table, and, after receiving his orders for next day, he went up to bed in the garret. About one in the morning he went down again and entered Madame Cornet’s apartment by means of a key which he had secured, and hid himself between the salon and the bedroom. When Madame Cornet had undressed and gone to bed, Marchandon attacked her. Her piercing screams disturbed the concierge who slept above. He got up to call the chambermaid, believing that Madame Cornet was taken ill. The two came down-stairs together and knocked at the door, but received no reply. They listened at the door for a time, and then left, thinking all must be right, as she was moving about. It was the murderer whom they heard, busied in getting rid of his blood-stained clothes, and hunting for valuables.
The first clue to the detection of the crime was the discovery of the hired livery coat, which was recognised by its owner when he was found. With it came the identification of the man-servant. He had a snug little home of his own in Compiègne, where he lived with his wife very comfortably. When arrested in the course of the day, he was just sitting down to a little dinner of croutons and roast fowl. The establishment was run with the means Marchandon acquired in Paris and brought down to his wife, the proceeds, no doubt, of his thefts. At one time he was in the service of the well-known M. Worth, the dressmaker of the rue de la Paix, but always managed to get down to Compiègne in the evening for dinner, bringing with him fish or fruit, or some other delicacy. He was a man of simple tastes, very popular in his own neighborhood. The raising of poultry was his favorite amusement, and he delighted in growing flowers. He was not without a certain sense of grim humor; and a witness deposed in court to his having exclaimed, when reading his newspaper the day after the murder of Madame Cornet, “Why are people so careless as to engage their servants without proper characters!”