(Maigret 12) Simenon, Georges by Maigret Mystified

Author:Maigret Mystified [Mystified, Maigret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

‘Have you your card?’

The manservant in his striped waistcoat took the visiting card that Maigret proffered and disappeared into the flat, which was amazingly light, thanks to the fifteen-feet-tall windows that are only to be seen nowadays in houses in the Place des Vosges and the Île Saint-Louis.

The rooms were immense. Somewhere a vacuum cleaner was purring. A nurse in a white overall, with a pretty blue veil on her head, kept going from one room to another and casting curious glances at the visitor.

A voice, close by.

‘Ask the Inspector to come in…’

Monsieur de Saint-Marc was in his study, wearing a dressing-gown, his silvery hair neatly smoothed. First he went to close a door through which Maigret had time to glimpse a fine old bed, with a young woman’s head on the pillow.

‘Sit down, please… Of course, you want to speak to me about that dreadful Couchet affair?…’

Despite his age he gave an impression of health and vigour. And the atmosphere of the flat was that of a happy home, where everything is bright and cheerful.

‘The tragedy affected me the more especially, as it coincided with a great emotional experience…’

‘I’ve heard about it…’

There was a slight flicker of pride in the eyes of the former ambassador. He was proud of having a child at his age.

‘I’ll ask you to speak softly, for I’d rather keep the story from Madame de Saint-Marc… In her condition, it would be a pity… But in fact, what do you want to ask me? I scarcely knew the man Couchet… I caught sight of him once or twice as I went through the courtyard… He belonged to one of the clubs I go to occasionally, the Haussmann. But I don’t think he often set foot in it… I merely noticed his name in the latest members’ list… I believe he was rather a common person, wasn’t he?…’

‘Well, his origins were pretty humble… He’d had quite a struggle to get where he did…’

‘My wife told me that he’d married a young woman of very good family, an old schoolfellow of hers… That’s one of the reasons why she’d better not be told about it… Well then, you wanted?…’

The great windows overlooked the Place des Vosges, brightened by a light burst of sunshine. In the square, gardeners were watering the lawns and flowerbeds. Vans were passing by, drawn by heavy-footed horses.

‘A simple piece of information… I know that, in your quite natural state of anxiety at waiting for things, you paced up and down the courtyard many times… Did you meet anyone?… Didn’t you see anyone going towards the offices at the far end of the courtyard?…’

Monsieur de Saint-Marc pondered, while he fingered a paperknife.

‘Wait a minute… No! I don’t think so… I must admit that I had other things on my mind… The concierge would be better able to…’

‘The concierge knows nothing…’

‘And I myself… No!… Or rather… But there can’t be any connexion…’

‘Tell me all the same.’

‘At a certain moment I heard a noise by the

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