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go without anything, of course. I even put a little aside, but not enough to live on
as a tenant.”
“You were telling me about Marcel.”
“I can’t remember what I was saying. Oh yes! How can I explain? When you
knew him he tried to play the tough guy. In Paris he frequented bars where you
meet people like Charlot, and even killers. He wanted to look as though he
belonged to their gangs and they didn’t take him seriously…”
“He was a part-time crook, eh?”
“Well, he grew out of it. He didn’t see those types any more, and lived in his
boat or in his hut. He drank a lot. He always found a way of getting drink. My
money orders helped him. I know what people think when a man like him is
killed.…”
“That is?”
“You know it too. People imagine it’s an underworld affair, a settling of
accounts, or revenge. But that isn’t the case.
“That’s what you really came to say, isn’t it?”
“For the last few minutes I have lost my train of thought. You’ve changed so
much! I’m sorry. I don’t mean physically…”
He smiled, in spite of himself, at her confusion.
“In the old days, even in your office in the Quai des Orfèvres, you didn’t
remind one of a policeman.”
“You’re very much afraid that I’m going to suspect the old lags. You aren’t in
love with Charlot, by any chance?”
“Certainly not. I’d be pretty hard put to it to be in love with anyone after all
the operations I’ve been through. I’m not a woman any more, if you must know.
And Charlot doesn’t interest me any more than the others.”
“Tell me the rest, now.”
“What makes you think there is anything else? I give you my word of honor
that I don’t know who killed poor Marcel.”
“But you know who didn’t kill him.”
“Yes.”
“You know whom I might be led to suspect.”
“After all, you’ll find out for yourself one of these days if you haven’t already
done so. I would have said so to start off with if you hadn’t questioned me so
dryly. I’m going to marry Monsieur Émile. There!”