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“I would like you to try to remember exactly. When, that evening, Marcellin
mentioned me…”
“I know what you mean. Your Inspector put the same question to me.”
“I suppose at the start of the evening the customers were at different tables,
like yesterday evening?”
“Yes. It always starts off like that.”
“Do you know what happened next?”
“Someone put on the phonograph—I don’t recall who. The Dutchman and his
girl friend began to dance. It comes back to me because I noticed that she let
herself go limp in his arms, like a rag doll.”
“Did other people dance too?”
“Mrs. Wilcox and Monsieur Philippe. He’s a very good dancer.”
“Where was Marcellin at that moment?”
“I seem to picture him back at the bar.”
“Very drunk?”
“Not very, but fairly. Wait. A detail. He insisted on asking Mrs. Wilcox to
dance…”
“Marcellin?”
Was it deliberate that when his fellow countryman was mentioned Mr. Pyke
suddenly looked blank?
“Did she accept?”
“They danced a few steps. Marcellin must have stumbled. He liked to act the
clown when there were a lot of people present. It was she who stood the first
round of drinks. Yes. There was a bottle of whisky on their table. She doesn’t
like being served by the glass. Marcellin drank some and asked for white wine.”
“And the major?”
“I was just thinking of him. He was in the opposite corner and I’m trying to
remember who he had with him. I think it was Polyte.”
“Who’s Polyte?”
“A Morin. The one with the green boat. In the summer he takes tourists
around the island. He wears a regular captain’s cap.”
“Is he a captain?”
“He did service in the navy and he must hold the rank of quartermaster. He
often accompanies the major to Toulon. The dentist was drinking with them.
Marcellin had started going from one table to the other with his glass and, if I am