hidden meaning in his
friend’s behaviour.
As for Geneviève, she had gone white
with rage. She was clearly shocked. Her eyes glittered. Maigret stared fixedly at her,
so fascinated was he by her reactions of the past few minutes.
Tall and thin, with a receding hairline,
Alban remained standing somewhat sheepishly in the middle of the drawing room.
‘At least you’re not waiting to
be accused of anythingbefore you mount your defence,’ Naud
declared eventually, having had time to weigh his words.
‘What on earth do you mean,
Étienne? I get the feeling you’ve all misinterpreted this. Just now, while I
was filing some papers, by pure chance I happened to come across this hotel bill. I
thought it would be interesting to show it to the inspector, given that it is the very
date when …’
Madame Naud broke in, a rare occurrence for
her.
‘You’ve already told us,’
she said. ‘I think we can sit down …’
The discomfort lingers. The meal may be as
meticulous and brilliant a success as the night before’s, but it is obvious that
any attempt to create a cordial or remotely relaxed atmosphere is doomed. Of everyone,
Geneviève is the most agitated. Long afterwards, Maigret will see her chest heaving
with a woman’s anger, or rather a lover’s rage, since he could swear that is
what she is feeling. She eats little and grudgingly. Not once does she look in
Alban’s direction, who, for his part, has stopped looking anyone in the eye.
He is just the sort of man to hoard every
last scrap of paper, filing them and pinning them together in bundles like banknotes. He
is also just the sort of man to cover his back given the remotest chance, even if it
means leaving his companions in a tight spot.
All of this is palpable. There is something
nasty in the air. Madame Naud is increasingly anxious. Naud, meanwhile, is doing his
best to reassure his family, while possibly trying to accomplish something else in the
process.
‘By the way, I
happened to see the prosecutor in Fontenay this morning. Incidentally, Alban, he’s
almost related to you on the distaff side because he married a Deharme, from
Cholet.’
‘The Cholet Deharmes are not related
to the general’s family. They’re from Nantes and …’
‘You know, inspector,’ Naud went
on, ‘he was very reassuring. Of course he told my brother-in-law Bréjon that
a preliminary investigation appeared inevitable, but apparently it will be purely
formal, at least as far as we are concerned. I said you were here …’
Ah! He is already regretting blurting that
out. Blushing slightly, he hurriedly takes a large mouthful of creamy lobster.
‘What did he say about me?’
‘He admires you a great deal. He has
followed most of your investigations in the newspapers. Precisely because he admires you
…’ The poor man didn’t know how to finish his sentence. ‘…
He’s surprised my brother saw fit to trouble a man like you over such a trivial
matter …’
‘I understand …’
‘You’re not upset? It’s
simply because he has such admiration …’
‘Are you sure he didn’t add that
my involvement might give this affair an importance it doesn’t warrant?’
‘How do you know that? Have you seen
him?’
Maigret smiles. What else can he do? He is
just a guest, after all. Their hospitality has been faultless. Tonight’s dinner is
another minor masterpiece of traditional country cooking. And now, politely, and with a
great deal of tact,they are giving him to understand that his
presence threatens to harm his hosts.
There is a silence, as there was after the
Alban incident. Madame Naud takes it upon herself to smooth things over, making a
clumsier mess of it than her husband.
‘I hope you’ll stay on a few
days anyway? After the fog, there’ll most likely be a frost and you’ll be
able to take a few walks with my husband … Don’t you think,
Étienne?’
What a relief for everyone if Maigret were
to reply, as they expect him to as someone with
friend’s behaviour.
As for Geneviève, she had gone white
with rage. She was clearly shocked. Her eyes glittered. Maigret stared fixedly at her,
so fascinated was he by her reactions of the past few minutes.
Tall and thin, with a receding hairline,
Alban remained standing somewhat sheepishly in the middle of the drawing room.
‘At least you’re not waiting to
be accused of anythingbefore you mount your defence,’ Naud
declared eventually, having had time to weigh his words.
‘What on earth do you mean,
Étienne? I get the feeling you’ve all misinterpreted this. Just now, while I
was filing some papers, by pure chance I happened to come across this hotel bill. I
thought it would be interesting to show it to the inspector, given that it is the very
date when …’
Madame Naud broke in, a rare occurrence for
her.
‘You’ve already told us,’
she said. ‘I think we can sit down …’
The discomfort lingers. The meal may be as
meticulous and brilliant a success as the night before’s, but it is obvious that
any attempt to create a cordial or remotely relaxed atmosphere is doomed. Of everyone,
Geneviève is the most agitated. Long afterwards, Maigret will see her chest heaving
with a woman’s anger, or rather a lover’s rage, since he could swear that is
what she is feeling. She eats little and grudgingly. Not once does she look in
Alban’s direction, who, for his part, has stopped looking anyone in the eye.
He is just the sort of man to hoard every
last scrap of paper, filing them and pinning them together in bundles like banknotes. He
is also just the sort of man to cover his back given the remotest chance, even if it
means leaving his companions in a tight spot.
All of this is palpable. There is something
nasty in the air. Madame Naud is increasingly anxious. Naud, meanwhile, is doing his
best to reassure his family, while possibly trying to accomplish something else in the
process.
‘By the way, I
happened to see the prosecutor in Fontenay this morning. Incidentally, Alban, he’s
almost related to you on the distaff side because he married a Deharme, from
Cholet.’
‘The Cholet Deharmes are not related
to the general’s family. They’re from Nantes and …’
‘You know, inspector,’ Naud went
on, ‘he was very reassuring. Of course he told my brother-in-law Bréjon that
a preliminary investigation appeared inevitable, but apparently it will be purely
formal, at least as far as we are concerned. I said you were here …’
Ah! He is already regretting blurting that
out. Blushing slightly, he hurriedly takes a large mouthful of creamy lobster.
‘What did he say about me?’
‘He admires you a great deal. He has
followed most of your investigations in the newspapers. Precisely because he admires you
…’ The poor man didn’t know how to finish his sentence. ‘…
He’s surprised my brother saw fit to trouble a man like you over such a trivial
matter …’
‘I understand …’
‘You’re not upset? It’s
simply because he has such admiration …’
‘Are you sure he didn’t add that
my involvement might give this affair an importance it doesn’t warrant?’
‘How do you know that? Have you seen
him?’
Maigret smiles. What else can he do? He is
just a guest, after all. Their hospitality has been faultless. Tonight’s dinner is
another minor masterpiece of traditional country cooking. And now, politely, and with a
great deal of tact,they are giving him to understand that his
presence threatens to harm his hosts.
There is a silence, as there was after the
Alban incident. Madame Naud takes it upon herself to smooth things over, making a
clumsier mess of it than her husband.
‘I hope you’ll stay on a few
days anyway? After the fog, there’ll most likely be a frost and you’ll be
able to take a few walks with my husband … Don’t you think,
Étienne?’
What a relief for everyone if Maigret were
to reply, as they expect him to as someone with
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