Free The Yellow Dog by Georges Simenon

odd? … Through all the years since, I never heard a word about a yellow dog. Then on Friday there’s a shooting. One of my friends is the victim. It could just as easily have been me who ducked
into that doorway and got hit by the bullet. And suddenly a yellow dog turns up!
    â€˜Another friend disappears under weird circumstances. And the yellow dog is still stalking around.
    â€˜Yesterday, it was Le Pommeret’s turn … The yellow dog again! … And you don’t think I should be upset?’
    He had never talked so much at once, and as he talked he became more confident. The only encouragement the inspector offered was ‘Of course … of course.’
    â€˜Isn’t it disturbing? I realize I must have looked like a coward to you … Well, yes, I was afraid! It was a vague kind of fear, but it grabbed me by the throat from the minute the first attack … And then when the
yellow dog came into the picture …’
    He paced the cell with small steps, his eyes on the floor. Then his face came alive. ‘I almost asked you for protection, but I was afraid you would laugh. I was even more afraid of your contempt … Because strong men do feel contempt
for cowards …’
    His voice grew shrill. ‘And I admit it, inspector: I am a coward! For the past four days I’ve been frightened – four days I’ve been sick with fright. It’s no fault of mine! I know enough medicine to understand my own
case.
    â€˜When I was born, they had to put me in an incubator. Growing up, I went through every single childhood disease.
    â€˜And when the War broke out, doctors who were examining 500 men a day declared me fit for service and sent me to the front! Well, not only did I have weak lungs, scarred from old lesions, but two years earlier I’d had a kidney
removed …
    â€˜I was terrified. Crazy with terror! Some hospital
attendants picked me up after a shell exploded and buried me … And finally they realized that I didn’t belong in the army.
    â€˜What I’m telling you may not be pretty. But I’ve been watching you. You look like a man who can understand …
    â€˜It’s easy enough for strong people to despise cowards. But they ought to take the trouble to learn where the cowardice comes from …
    â€˜Look, I could see that you didn’t think much of our group at the Admiral café. People told you that I sold land … a deputy’s son, with a medical degree … and then all those evenings at a café table with those
other failures.
    â€˜But what was I supposed to do? My parents were big spenders even though they weren’t rich. That’s not so rare in Paris. I was raised in luxury – all the great spas, and so on. Then my father died, and my mother started to dabble
in the market and dream up schemes – just as much the great lady as ever, just as arrogant, but with creditors hounding her.
    â€˜So I helped her out. That was all I
could
do. This property development – nothing very impressive. And the life here … Prominent citizens, oh, yes – but with something not quite solid about them.
    â€˜For three days now you’ve been watching me, and I’ve been wishing I could talk to you openly … I used to be married. My wife asked for a divorce because she wanted a husband with more ambition …
    â€˜One kidney short – three or four days a week sick, exhausted, dragging myself from my bed to my chair …’
    He sat down listlessly.
    â€˜Emma must have told you we’ve been lovers –
mindlessly, you know? Just because sometimes you need to have a woman … Not the sort of thing you tell everyone …
    â€˜At the Admiral café, I might have wound up going mad. The yellow dog, Servières disappearing, the bloodstains in his car. And the worst