The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

“With Mr. Pyke!”
Did the Englishman imagine the French police had powerful motorcars at
their disposal to take them to the scenes of crimes?
He must think, at any rate, that P.J. inspectors have unlimited expenses for
their movements. Had Maigret done right? Alone, he would have been content
with a couchette. At the Gare de Lyon he hesitated. Then at the last moment he
took two wagon-lits places.
It was sumptuous. In the corridor they found de luxe travelers with
impressive-looking luggage. An elegant crowd, laden with flowers, was seeing a
film star onto the train.
“It’s the Blue Train,” Maigret mumbled, as if to excuse himself.
If only he had been able to know what his fellow policeman was thinking!
Into the bargain they were obliged to undress in front of one another and, the
next morning, they would have to share the minute washing compartment.
“Well,” said Mr. Pyke, in dressing gown and pajamas, “so a case is under
way.”
Just what did he mean by that? His French had something so precise about it
that Maigret always looked for a hidden meaning.
“It’s a case, yes.”
“Did you take a copy of Marcellin’s file?”
“No. I confess I never thought of it.”
“Have you concerned yourself at all about what has become of the woman:
Ginette, I believe?”
“No.”
Was there a reproach in the look Mr. Pyke shot at him?
“Have you brought an open-arrest warrant with you?”
“No again. Only an interrogation permit, which entitles me to summon people
and question them.”
“Do you know Porquerolles?”
“I’ve never set foot there. I hardly know the Midi. I was on a case there once,
at Antibes and Cannes, and I remember particularly an overpowering heat and a
desire to sleep that never left me.”
“Don’t you like the Mediterranean?”
“In general I dislike places where I lose the desire to work.”
“That’s because you like working, isn’t it?”