Free The Late Monsieur Gallet by Georges Simenon Page B

decided the figure at which you’ll stop?’
    â€˜Five hundred thousand … we expect to work in Paris for three more years.’
    Maigret was now looking at her with feelings verging on admiration. But a particular kind of admiration, with more than a touch of revulsion in it. She was thirty! Henry was twenty-five! They were in love, or at least they had decided to spend
their lives together. Yet their relationship was like that of two partners in a business enterprise! She spoke of it simply, even with a certain pride.
    â€˜Have you been in Sancerre for long?’
    â€˜I arrived on 20 June to stay for a month.’
    â€˜Why didn’t you go to stay at the Hôtel de la Loire, or the Commercial?’
    â€˜Too expensive for me! I’m paying only twenty-two francs a day at the Pension Germain, at the far end of the village.’
    â€˜So Henry came on the 25th? What time?’
    â€˜He has only Saturday and Sunday off, and it had been agreed that he’d spend the Sunday at Saint-Fargeau. He came here on Saturday morning, and left by the last train that evening.’
    â€˜And that was when?’
    â€˜Eleven thirty-two p.m. I went to the station with him.’
    â€˜Did you know that his father was here?’
    â€˜Henry told me he’d met him. He was furious, because he was sure his father had come here just to spy on us, and Henry didn’t want his family getting involved in what’s no one’s business but our own.’
    â€˜Did the Gallets know about that 100,000 francs?’
    â€˜Of course! Henry has come of age – he had a right to live his own life, didn’t he?’
    â€˜In what terms did your lover usually speak of his father?’
    â€˜He thought poorly of him for his lack of ambition. He said it wasn’t right, at his age, for him still to be selling junk jewellery. But he was always very respectful to his parents, especially his mother.’
    â€˜So he didn’t know that in reality Émile Gallet was nothing but a crook?’
    â€˜A crook? Him …?’
    â€˜And that for the last eighteen years he hadn’t been selling “junk jewellery” at all?’
    â€˜That can’t be true!’
    Was she playing a part as she looked at the lugubrious dummy corpse on the floor with a kind of wonderment?
    â€˜I’m stunned, inspector! Him! With his odd ways, his ridiculous clothes? He looked just like a poor pensioner!’
    â€˜What did you two do on Saturday afternoon?’
    â€˜We went for a walk in the hills, Henry and I. It was when he left me to go back to the Commercial that he met his father. Then we met again at eight and we went for another walk, on the other side of the water this time, until it was time
for Henry to catch the train.’
    â€˜And you didn’t come close to this hotel?’
    â€˜It was better to avoid a meeting.’
    â€˜Then you came back from the station by yourself. You crossed the bridge …’
    â€˜And I turned left at once to get back to the Pension Germain. I don’t like walking on my own at night.’
    â€˜Do you know Tiburce de Saint-Hilaire?’
    â€˜Who’s he? I’ve never heard the name … Inspector, I hope you don’t suspect Henry of anything.’ Her expression was animated, but she was as composed as ever. ‘I’m here because I know him.
He’s almost always been ill, and that’s made him gloomy and distrustful. We can sometimes spend hours together without talking. It’s pure coincidence that he met his father here. Although I realize it might seem an odd coincidence. He’s too proud to defend
himself … I don’t know what he told you. Did he answer your questions at all? What I can swear is that he never left me from eight in the evening to the time when he caught his train. He was nervous. He was afraid his mother would hear about our relationship,