OU_214051 UNIVERSA - Osmania University

A CRIME IN HOLLAND 179
man to believe that life here was life at all. Was it? Or was it all as
flat and artificial as a picture post-card?
Everything seemed strange to Maigret. For instance, turning
round suddenly, he saw only a few yards from him a high-stemmed
boat which he had not seen arriving. He recognized the sail, which
was broader than the canal, as the one he had seen only a little
earlier far away towards the horizon. It seemed hardly possible that
it could have covered the distance in so short a time.
At the helm was a woman who steered with a hip against the
tiller, while she held a suckling baby to her breast. A man was
sitting astride of the bowsprit, his legs dangling down towards the
water, fitting a new martingale.
The boat passed in front of the Wienands's and then the
Popingas'. The mast reached higher than the roofs, and the sail
completely blotted out each house in turn.
Maigret stopped again. He hesitated. The Popingas' servant was
scrubbing the doorstep, her head down, her stern in the air. The
door was open.
Suddenly realizing that Maigret was behind her, she scrambled
hastily to her feet, so nervous that her hand trembled.
" Madame Popinga? " he asked, pointing towards the interior of
the house.
She wanted to go in first, but she hesitated, not knowing what
to do with the wet cloth she was holding, which was dripping dirty
water. Maigret took advantage of her embarrassment and went
straight in. Hearing a man's voice through the drawing-room door,
he knocked.
The voice broke off abruptly. Dead silence in the room. As a
matter of fact, it was more than silence—suspense would be the
better word.
At last there were steps, and a hand touched the handle of the
door, which then slowly opened. The first person Maigret saw was
Any. It was she who had opened the door, at the same time fixing
him with a hard stare. Next he made out the figure of a man standing
near the table. He wore fawn-coloured spats, and his suit was of
thick broadcloth. Liewens, the farmer.
Lastly, Madame Popinga, leaning on the mantelpiece, her face
buried in her hands.
It was obvious that the new-comer was interrupting some important
conversation, perhaps a tense discussion, or even a dispute*
The table was covered by an embroidered table-cloth, on which