OU_214051 UNIVERSA - Osmania University

30 MAINLY MAIGRET
Strutting on her Absurdly high heels, the fur coat drawn tightly
round her hips, Sylvie crossed the pavement under cover of the big
umbrella. A burst of dance-music came with the opening door, and
shadowy forms could be seen gliding to and fro behind the curtains.
In the brighdy lit entrance Sylvie turned and waved to him.
The driver let in the gear. It was cold inside the taxi and, huddled
up in his corner without his overcoat, Elie felt as if he had
nothing on.
" Station's shut." The driver pointed to the dark vestibule in
which most of the lamps had been turned off.
" That doesn't matter."
A sudden panic came over him; he had just realized diat besides
the thousand-franc notes he had only some small change. But after
hunting in his pockets he scraped together enough to pay the
taximan.
But it meant that he couldn't spend any more money till next
morning. There was nowhere to go, eating and drinking were ruled
out—and the night was getting steadily colder.
He was so benumbed that he had ceased being conscious of the
cold. He walked on and on, now and then halting in a doorway,
but always hurrying away the moment he heard footsteps. After a
while he marked down four big clocks at different points, and kept
moving in a circle, reckoning out how many rounds he would
have made before daybreak. He had only the sound of his own steps
for company, but, for all their regularity, they afforded some distraction,
as the echo varied with the different streets. It depended
on the width of the roadway, the height of the houses, and perhaps
on the kind of paving-stones employed, as well.
Meanwhile Sylvie was dancing at the Merryland. He wasn't in
the least jealous, though he knew she was having what she regarded
as a good time. There was nothing to prevent his lying in wait and
watching her come out, but it never occurred to him to do so.
It was a relief when the first tram niade its appearance in the
streets, and at seven he chose a taxi from those in the rank at the
Place de Brouckdre.
" Drive me to Charleroi."
He had a three-days' growth of beard. The shoulders of his coat
were drenched and the bottoms of his trouser-legs a limp, shapeless
mass. The driver looked him up and down, and hesitated. Finally,
in the tone of a man who is chancing it, he said:
" All right. Hop in."