A TERRIBLE STORY.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4487, 6 August 1875, Page 3

A TERRIBLE STORY.

A terrible story has just been unfolded at the Assize Court of Nimes. A Spaniard called Jaime Saucho had for many years lived with his wife at Beaucaire. The husband was a chiffonier, and as the couple were laborious and honest, they enjoyed an excellent reputation, and were esteemed by all who knew them. By dint of hard work they had managed to save a sum of nearly SOOOf., with which they purposed to return to their native place, Tarragona, and there buy back a little property which had formerly belonged to the family. Last October, indeed, they had made a journey with this object, but not being able to come to terms with the proprietor, they returned to Beaucaire. While waiting for some good investment for their earnings, they hid the money in the house where they lived alone, in the Grande Rue. On the 27th of November, at nine o’clock in the morning, they received a visit from a fellow-countryman, who announced himself as one Josd Vaque, and said he was sent by Sancho’s brother-in-law, named Praty, to announce his arrival in Marseilles, and to say that his sou had been arrested by order of the Spanish Consul, as wishing to avoid the conscription. Vaque further produced a letter purporting to be from Praty, requesting his brother-in-law to come at once to his assistance at Marseilles, and asking him to receive Vaque as a friend. Sancho, therefore, at once departed for Marseilles, and left his countryman installed in his house. Vaque went out twice during the evening, and ten minutes after his return on the second occasion, at about half-past five, the door-bell rang. Madame Saucho was going downstairs to answer it, when a thick woollen covering was thrown over her head from behind by Vaque, and at the same time the house-door was opened and a second man entered. The new comer at once rushed towards the unfortunate woman and commenced beating her about the head and body witli a bludgeon, Madame Sancho, it should be added, being enciente at the time. The two ruffians next garotted her and tied her hands together with a roj e, and then her keys were taken from her pocket, the new comer saying to Vaque in Spanish, “ Hold her fast ; I know where the money is.” What was the poor woman’s horror to recognise the voice of her husband’s own brother, Francisco Saucho y Carretta, whom she had left in Spain a month before, .and supposed still to be there ? Evidently he knew of their money, and she remembered that he had asked them to lend him 2000 f., and had even struck her on their refusal. She at once saw her tenable position, and that there was only one chance of escape —namely, to remaiu'perfectly still. This she did with marvellous self-pos-session, while Vaque still held her and Francisco Sancho was rifling the drawer where the money was kept. Not a word, not a groan, escaped her lips, though she must have been in fearful pain. At last Francisco Sancho said, “We have what we want.” The wretch then drew a long Catalonian knife and stabbed his sister-in-law with it six times successively. Still this really heroic woman played her difficult part. Not a cry did she utter, nor give any sign of life—not even when her brother-in-law put his hand to her heart and said to Vaque, “ She is dead.” The ruffians then enveloped their victim in all the linen they could find, and hurriedly left the house. By a miracle not one of the knife-thrusts had touched a vital part, though they were all aimed through the covering at the heart. The poor woman, faint and bleeiling, managed by means of her teeth to free herself from the linen, the woollen cloak, and the cord, and crawled to her bed, where her screams brought no assistance, for the room did not open upon the street. Her agony that night must have been awful. At last, in the morning, assistance arrived, the alarm was given, and the assassins were arrested at Montpellier. At the trial Madame Sancho gave her evidence in the clearest way, and described the minutest details of the terrible scene which she had undergone. Her appearance in court naturally excited the greatest sympathy. M. Millet, a doctor, deposed that Madame Sancho had only escaped by what I have already called it above—-a miracle. The jury found both prisoners guilty, with—why it seems hard to decide—extenuating circumstances in favor of Vaque. Francisco Sancho was therefore condemned to death, and Vaque to penal servitude for life. No one who reads these lines will assuredly wish that either of the sentences should be commuted.