The Flemish House by Georges Simenon, Georges Simenon; Translated by Shaun Whiteside

hands with annoyance.
    â€˜Go on!’
    â€˜He must have thrown himself into
     the Meuse … His cap was fished out near the barge just behind his … The barge
     stopped it … You understand?’
    â€˜And then?’
    â€˜His jacket was on the shore … And
     there was this piece of paper pinned to it …’
    He took it carefully out of his wallet.
     It was a shapeless piece of paper, drenched by the rain. It was still just about
     possible to read:
I’m a wretch. I’d
     prefer the river …
    Maigret had read under his voice. Joseph
     Peeters asked in a troubled voice:
    â€˜I don’t understand … What
     does he mean?’
    Machère stayed standing, unsettled,
     uneasy. Marguerite looked at each of them in turn with big, inexpressive eyes.
    â€˜I think you’re the one who
     …’ Machère began.
    And Maigret got up cordially, with a
     hearty smile on his lips. He reserved his special attention for Anna.
    â€˜You see! I was talking to you
     about a hammer a moment ago …’
    â€˜Don’t!’ begged
     Marguerite.
    â€˜What are you doing tomorrow
     afternoon?’
    â€˜The same as every Sunday … We
     spend it with the family … Only Maria will be missing …’
    â€˜Will you let me come and pay my
     compliments?Perhaps there might be some of that excellent rice
     tart …?’
    And Maigret made for the corridor, where
     he put on his overcoat, made twice as heavy by the rain.
    â€˜Please excuse me …’
     stammered Machère. ‘It was the inspector who wanted …’
    â€˜Come!’
    In the shop, Madame Peeters had hoisted
     herself on to a ladder to take down a packet of starch from the top shelf. A
     bargeman’s wife was waiting with a gloomy expression, with a string shopping
     bag on her arm.

8. The Visit to the Ursulines
    There was a little group of people near
     the place where the sailor’s cap had been fished out, but Maigret, dragging
     Machère with him, walked towards the bridge.
    â€˜You hadn’t told me about
     this hammer … If you had, I’d have known …’
    â€˜What have you been doing all
     day?’
    And Machère looked like a schoolboy who
     had been caught out.
    â€˜I went to Namur … I wanted to
     check that Maria Peeters’ sprain …’
    â€˜Well?’
    â€˜They wouldn’t let me in … I
     ended up in a convent full of nuns looking at me like a beetle that had fallen into
     their soup …’
    â€˜Did you insist?’
    â€˜I even used threats.’
    Maigret suppressed a smile of amusement.
     Near the bridge, he went into a garage that hired cars and asked for a car and
     driver to take him to Namur.
    Fifty kilometres there and fifty
     kilometres back, along the Meuse.
    â€˜Will you come with me?’
    â€˜Do you want me to …? Because I
     tell you, they won’tlet you in … Not to mention that now
     they’ve found the hammer …’
    â€˜Fine! Do something else. You take
     a car as well. Go to all the little stations in a twenty-kilometre radius. Check
     that the bargeman hasn’t taken the train …’
    And Maigret’s car set off. Snug in
     the cushions, the inspector smoked his pipe beatifically; all that he saw of the
     landscape was the starburst of lights on each side of the car.
    He knew that Maria Peeters was a form
     mistress in a school run by the Ursulines. He also knew that the Ursulines are, in
     the religious hierarchy, the equivalent of the Jesuits, which is to say that in a
     sense they form its teaching aristocracy. The cream of the province must have sent
     their children to the school in Namur.
    Given that, it was amusing to imagine
     Inspector Machère in discussion with the nuns, insisting on getting inside and even
     using threats!
    â€˜I forgot to ask him what he
     called them …’ Maigret reflected. ‘He must have