Lisieux,” she said, “and I came up by the first train this morning.”
Lisieux was not far from the sea, and he seemed to remember that there was a convent there.
“I saw the paper yesterday evening and recognized the photograph at once.”
She put on a distressed expression, because she felt that would be expected; but she was not in the least upset. There was even a gleam of triumph in her little black eyes.
“Naturally, the girl has altered in the last four years, and that style of hairdressing makes her look different. But I have no doubt whatever that it is she. I would have gone to see my sister-in-law, but we have not spoken to each other for years now, and it is not for me to make the first advance. You understand?”
“I understand,” said Maigret gravely, with a little puff at his pipe.
“The name was different too, of course. But living the life she did, it was only natural she should have changed her name. However, I was puzzled to learn that she called herself Arlette and had an identity card in the name of Jeanne Leleu. The strange thing is that I used to know the Leleu family…”
He waited patiently, watching the falling snow.
“Anyhow, I showed the photograph to three different people, reliable people who had known Anne-Marie well, and they all agreed that it was undoubtedly she—the daughter of my brother and sister-in-law.”
“Is your brother still alive?”
“He died when the child was only two. He was killed in a railway accident—you remember it, perhaps, the famous Rouen catastrophe. I’d warned him…”
“Your sister-in-law lives at Lisieux?”
“Never left the place. But as I told you, we are quite out of touch. It would take too long to explain why. I am sure you will agree that there are some people with whom it is quite impossible to remain on friendly terms. Let us leave it at that!”
“Let us leave it at that!” he repeated.
Then he asked: “What was your brother’s name, by the way?”
“Trochain, Gaston Trochain. Ours is a large family, probably the largest in Lisieux, and one of the oldest. I don’t know whether you are acquainted with the place…”
“No, Madame. I have only passed through.”
“But you doubtless noticed the statue of General Trochain in the principal square. He was our great-grandfather. And the château with the slate-tiled roof that you see on your right as you go towards Caen, was our family property. It no longer belongs to us. It was bought by some nouveaux riches after the 1914 war. But my brother was comfortably off.”
“Would it be indiscreet to ask you what he did?”
“He was an Inspector in the Department of Civil Engineering. My sister-in-law was the daughter of an ironmonger who had made a little money, from whom she inherited nine or ten houses and a couple of farms. While my brother was alive she was accepted in society for his sake. But as soon as she was widowed, people began to realize that she had married above her, and now she is left practically alone in her big house.”
“Do you think she will have seen the newspaper?”
“Undoubtedly. The photograph was on the front page of the local paper that everyone sees.”
“Don’t you find it strange that she has not got into touch with us?”
“Not in the least. She will certainly not do so. She is too proud. In fact I am convinced that if she were confronted with the body she would swear it was not her daughter. I know she had heard nothing from the girl for the last four years. Nobody had, at Lisieux. And she’s not upset about her daughter—only about what people are thinking.”
“Do you know why the girl left home?”
“I should say nobody could stay under the same roof as that woman. But there was another reason. I don’t know where the child inherited her character from; it was not from my brother, everyone will tell you that. But when she was fifteen, she was expelled from her convent school. And after that, if I happened to go out in
Lisieux was not far from the sea, and he seemed to remember that there was a convent there.
“I saw the paper yesterday evening and recognized the photograph at once.”
She put on a distressed expression, because she felt that would be expected; but she was not in the least upset. There was even a gleam of triumph in her little black eyes.
“Naturally, the girl has altered in the last four years, and that style of hairdressing makes her look different. But I have no doubt whatever that it is she. I would have gone to see my sister-in-law, but we have not spoken to each other for years now, and it is not for me to make the first advance. You understand?”
“I understand,” said Maigret gravely, with a little puff at his pipe.
“The name was different too, of course. But living the life she did, it was only natural she should have changed her name. However, I was puzzled to learn that she called herself Arlette and had an identity card in the name of Jeanne Leleu. The strange thing is that I used to know the Leleu family…”
He waited patiently, watching the falling snow.
“Anyhow, I showed the photograph to three different people, reliable people who had known Anne-Marie well, and they all agreed that it was undoubtedly she—the daughter of my brother and sister-in-law.”
“Is your brother still alive?”
“He died when the child was only two. He was killed in a railway accident—you remember it, perhaps, the famous Rouen catastrophe. I’d warned him…”
“Your sister-in-law lives at Lisieux?”
“Never left the place. But as I told you, we are quite out of touch. It would take too long to explain why. I am sure you will agree that there are some people with whom it is quite impossible to remain on friendly terms. Let us leave it at that!”
“Let us leave it at that!” he repeated.
Then he asked: “What was your brother’s name, by the way?”
“Trochain, Gaston Trochain. Ours is a large family, probably the largest in Lisieux, and one of the oldest. I don’t know whether you are acquainted with the place…”
“No, Madame. I have only passed through.”
“But you doubtless noticed the statue of General Trochain in the principal square. He was our great-grandfather. And the château with the slate-tiled roof that you see on your right as you go towards Caen, was our family property. It no longer belongs to us. It was bought by some nouveaux riches after the 1914 war. But my brother was comfortably off.”
“Would it be indiscreet to ask you what he did?”
“He was an Inspector in the Department of Civil Engineering. My sister-in-law was the daughter of an ironmonger who had made a little money, from whom she inherited nine or ten houses and a couple of farms. While my brother was alive she was accepted in society for his sake. But as soon as she was widowed, people began to realize that she had married above her, and now she is left practically alone in her big house.”
“Do you think she will have seen the newspaper?”
“Undoubtedly. The photograph was on the front page of the local paper that everyone sees.”
“Don’t you find it strange that she has not got into touch with us?”
“Not in the least. She will certainly not do so. She is too proud. In fact I am convinced that if she were confronted with the body she would swear it was not her daughter. I know she had heard nothing from the girl for the last four years. Nobody had, at Lisieux. And she’s not upset about her daughter—only about what people are thinking.”
“Do you know why the girl left home?”
“I should say nobody could stay under the same roof as that woman. But there was another reason. I don’t know where the child inherited her character from; it was not from my brother, everyone will tell you that. But when she was fifteen, she was expelled from her convent school. And after that, if I happened to go out in
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