Feinsteinsâ apartment on the fifth floor of a building in Boulevard des Batignolles. A rather dim-looking maid with unkempt hair came to answer the
door and seemed unsure whether she should let him in or not. But at that same moment Maigret spotted Jamesâs hat hanging in the hallway.
Was this the wheels of the case turning relentlessly onwards, or was it a spanner in the works?
âIs your mistress at home?â
The maid looked as if she was fresh up from the country, and he took advantage of her uncertainty to enter. He went to a door behind which he could hear voices, knocked and entered immediately.
He already knew the apartment. It was indistinguishable from most of the other lower-middle-class apartments in the area â a narrow sofa and rickety-looking armchairs with gilt feet. The first person he saw was James, who was standing in front of
the window, staring out at the street.
Madame Feinstein was dressed to go out â all in black with a fetching little crêpe hat. She seemed extremely animated.
Despite this, she displayed no sign of annoyance when she saw Maigret, unlike James, who seemed put out, even embarrassed.
âCome in, inspector. Youâre not disturbing anything. I was just about to tell James how stupid he is.â
âAh.â
It had all the appearance of a domestic tiff. James pleaded, with no great hope:
âPlease, Mado â¦â
âNo! Be quiet! Iâm talking to the inspector.â
Resigned, James turned back to look at the street, where he could have seen little more than the heads of the passers-by.
âIf you were an ordinary policeman, inspector, I wouldnât be talking to you like this. But as you were our guest at Morsang, and as you are clearly a man who is capable of understanding these things â¦â
And she was a woman who was capable of talking non-stop for hours, capable of calling the whole world as her witness, capable of reducing even the most talkative person to complete silence!
She wasnât especially beautiful. But she had a seductive quality, particularly in her mourning dress which, rather than giving her a sad appearance, made her look even more alluring. She was curvy, vivacious; she would have made an
excellent mistress.
There couldnât be a greater contrast with the phlegmatic James, with his lugubrious face and his wandering gaze.
âEveryone knows I am Bassoâs mistress, donât they? Iâm not ashamed of it. Iâve never made any secret of it. At Morsang, no one had any problem with it. If my husband had been a different sort of man â¦â
She barely paused for breath.
âIf heâd been able to sort out his financial problems. Look at this dump. I have to live here. He was never around. Or when he was, in the evening after dinner, all he ever talked about was money problems, the business, his staff,
stuff like that. But what I say is, if you canât give your wife the life she deserves, you canât complain if she goes off with someone else â¦
âAnyway, Marcel and I planned to get married one day. You didnât know? Naturally we didnât shout it from the rooftops. But for his son, heâd have started divorce proceedings already. Iâd have done the same.
âYouâve seen his wife, havenât you? Not at all the sort of woman a man like Marcel needs.â
In the corner, James sighed. He was now staring at the carpet.
âWhere do you think my duty lies? Marcel is in trouble, heâs wanted by the police, he may have to go abroad. Donât you think that I should be there by his side? Tell me, just say what you think.â
âHmm ⦠well,â Maigret mumbled in a non-committal fashion.
âExactly! You see, James? The inspector agrees with me. Never mind the gossip. I donât care what people think. But James wonât tell me where I can find Marcel. He knows, Iâm sure he does. He wonât even
door and seemed unsure whether she should let him in or not. But at that same moment Maigret spotted Jamesâs hat hanging in the hallway.
Was this the wheels of the case turning relentlessly onwards, or was it a spanner in the works?
âIs your mistress at home?â
The maid looked as if she was fresh up from the country, and he took advantage of her uncertainty to enter. He went to a door behind which he could hear voices, knocked and entered immediately.
He already knew the apartment. It was indistinguishable from most of the other lower-middle-class apartments in the area â a narrow sofa and rickety-looking armchairs with gilt feet. The first person he saw was James, who was standing in front of
the window, staring out at the street.
Madame Feinstein was dressed to go out â all in black with a fetching little crêpe hat. She seemed extremely animated.
Despite this, she displayed no sign of annoyance when she saw Maigret, unlike James, who seemed put out, even embarrassed.
âCome in, inspector. Youâre not disturbing anything. I was just about to tell James how stupid he is.â
âAh.â
It had all the appearance of a domestic tiff. James pleaded, with no great hope:
âPlease, Mado â¦â
âNo! Be quiet! Iâm talking to the inspector.â
Resigned, James turned back to look at the street, where he could have seen little more than the heads of the passers-by.
âIf you were an ordinary policeman, inspector, I wouldnât be talking to you like this. But as you were our guest at Morsang, and as you are clearly a man who is capable of understanding these things â¦â
And she was a woman who was capable of talking non-stop for hours, capable of calling the whole world as her witness, capable of reducing even the most talkative person to complete silence!
She wasnât especially beautiful. But she had a seductive quality, particularly in her mourning dress which, rather than giving her a sad appearance, made her look even more alluring. She was curvy, vivacious; she would have made an
excellent mistress.
There couldnât be a greater contrast with the phlegmatic James, with his lugubrious face and his wandering gaze.
âEveryone knows I am Bassoâs mistress, donât they? Iâm not ashamed of it. Iâve never made any secret of it. At Morsang, no one had any problem with it. If my husband had been a different sort of man â¦â
She barely paused for breath.
âIf heâd been able to sort out his financial problems. Look at this dump. I have to live here. He was never around. Or when he was, in the evening after dinner, all he ever talked about was money problems, the business, his staff,
stuff like that. But what I say is, if you canât give your wife the life she deserves, you canât complain if she goes off with someone else â¦
âAnyway, Marcel and I planned to get married one day. You didnât know? Naturally we didnât shout it from the rooftops. But for his son, heâd have started divorce proceedings already. Iâd have done the same.
âYouâve seen his wife, havenât you? Not at all the sort of woman a man like Marcel needs.â
In the corner, James sighed. He was now staring at the carpet.
âWhere do you think my duty lies? Marcel is in trouble, heâs wanted by the police, he may have to go abroad. Donât you think that I should be there by his side? Tell me, just say what you think.â
âHmm ⦠well,â Maigret mumbled in a non-committal fashion.
âExactly! You see, James? The inspector agrees with me. Never mind the gossip. I donât care what people think. But James wonât tell me where I can find Marcel. He knows, Iâm sure he does. He wonât even
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