Georges Simenon - Maigret and the Guinguette by the Seine (a. k. a. Maigret and the Tavern by the Seine)

TheGuinguetteBy The Seine

La guinguette deux sous
the 11th episode in the Maigret Saga
1932

Georges Simenon

Translated from the French by Geoffrey Sainsbury

A 3S digital back-up edition 1.0

Contents

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY

BEADLEY BROTHERS

109 KINGSWAY, LONDON, W.C.2 ; AND ASHFORD, KENT

from plates

By the same Author

THE PATIENCE OF MAIGRET

MAIGRET TRAVELS SOUTH

MAIGRET ABROAD

MAIGRET KEEPS A RENDEZVOUS

MAIGRET SITS IT OUT

MAIGRET AND M. LABB

IN TWO LATITUDES

AFFAIRS OF DESTINY

THE MAN WHO WATCHED THE TRAINS GO BY

HAVOC BY ACCIDENT

ESCAPE IN VAIN

ON THE DANGER LINE

THE SHADOWFALLS

LOST MOORINGS

MAIGRET TO THE RESCUE (includes The Flemish Shop and Guingette by the Seine )

Translated front the French by GEOFFREY SAINSBURY

LONDON

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS LTD.

BROADWAY HOUSE:

from plates

THE GUINGUETTE BY THE SEINE

Translated from the French :
La Guinguette Deux Sous

Chapter I
a flat-brimmed top-hat

A radiant late afternoon. An almost treacly sunshine oozing through the peaceful streets on the left bank of the Seine. An easy-going gaiety shining in every face, and echoing in each familiar sound.

There are days like that. Days when existence is less commonplace than usual, days when trivial gestures seem somehow charged with vitality, and passers-by on the pavement or passengers in trams are invested with some heightened personality.

It was the 27th of June. When Maigret reached the gate of the Sant he found the policeman on guard gazing foolishly at a little white cat which was playing with the dog from the dairy over the way.

There are days when footsteps strike a more sonorous note. Maigrets did, as he crossed the immense courtyard to disappear through a doorway on the other side.

At the end of a long corridor he asked a warder:

Has he been told?

Not yet.

A key turned in a lock. A bolt shot back. A very clean cell with a very high ceiling. A man, who rose to his feet, while by his face he seemed uncertain what expression to adopt.

Well, Lenoir? You all right?

The prisoner nearly smiled, but his features hardened as an idea flashed through his mind. He frowned mistrustfully, and for a few seconds his mouth was drawn into a snarl; then he shrugged his shoulders and held out his hand.

I see, he said.

What?

A cynical smile.

Come on! You neednt play that game with me. If youve come, its

Its because Im going on leave tomorrow, and

Lenoir laughed dryly. He was tall and young, with dark hair combed back from the forehead, well-cut features, and fine chestnut-coloured eyes. His neat black moustache sho wed up the whiteness of his teeth, which were sharp as a rodents.

Very kind of you, Monsieur le commissaire

He stretched, yawned, and put down the lid of the lavatory pan, which stood gaping in a corner of the cell.

I wasnt expecting visitors

Then suddenly, looking Maigret straight in the eye:

Theyve turned it down, havent they?

No use trying to break the news gently. He had understood. He started pacing up and down the cell.

I knew they would So when is it? Tomorrow?

All the same, the voice faltered ever so slightly over that last word, and the eyes greedily drank in the daylight that came through the narrow window high up on the wall.

At the same moment, people sitting in front of the cafs were scanning their evening papers, in which it was announced:

The President of the Republic has refused his consent to the reprieve of Jean Lenoir, the young ringleader of the Belleville gang. The execution will take place at dawn tomorrow.

It was Maigret himself who, three months before, had put his hand on Lenoir in a hotel in the Rue Saint-Antoine. It had been touch and go. Another second, and the gangsters revolver would have been pointing at the pit of his stomach instead of at the floor.

That, however, was all in the days work, and the inspector bore him no grudge. On the contrary, he had taken rather a fancy to him. Partly because Lenoir was young. No more than twenty-two, though he had been sentenced heaven knows how often since his fifteenth birthday. But still more because he was game.

The crime had not been done single-handed. Two others of the gang had, in fact, probably played a more active part in the hold-up than he had. They had both been arrested.

But Lenoir had taken the whole thing on his own shoulders. The police had tried to get at him from every angle, but he had steadily refused to rise to any bait.

And there was no pose about him, no swagger. Nor did he take the pathetic line and blame circumstances or social injustice for his own misdemeanours.

You win! was all hed said.

Now it was all over. Or rather it soon would be. That sun which streaked diagonally across one of the cell walls had only to peep over the horizon next morning

And, in spite of himself, Lenoirs hand felt the back of his neck. His face turned a shade paler.

It doesnt feel too good, he sneered.

Then, in a sudden outburst of rancour:

If only all the others came too. There are plenty who deserve it just as much as I do.

Still walking up and down, he shot a shrewd glance at Maigret.

All right, old chap! No need to prick your ears! Im not giving anybody away Not but what I wouldnt like to

Maigret avoided looking at him. He could feel the confession coming, but he knew very well that Lenoir would shy off at the least thinga word of misplaced sympathy or the slightest display of eager interest.

Of course you wouldnt know the Guinguette Deux Sous . One of those riverside places where you can sit and booze in the garden. Just like any other guinguette , for that matter. No reason why you should know it. But if you ever fetch up there, youll run into someone whod fit just as well as I shall on that machine of yours tomorrow

Quite unable to keep still, he went on pacing up and down. It was the only sign of his inward commotion. Maigret was fascinated.

But you wont And youll never catch him Look here! Without spilling any beans I can tell you a little story I dont know why it comes back to me all of a sudden. Perhaps because it belongs to the days when I was new to the business. I suppose I was about sixteen There were two of us. We used to go round the bars and cheap dancing-places together. My pals in a sanatorium nowthat is, if hes still alive. He was coughing his lungs up even in those days.

Why was he saying all this? Perhaps he needed to talk, to prove he was still alive himself, to prove he was still a man

One nightit must have been about one oclock we were strolling along a street-just an ordinary street: you dont need to know the name Some distance ahead a door opened. There was a car standing by the kerb. And a chap came out of the house, pushing another in front of him. No, pushings the wrong word. Imagine a chap arm-in-arm with a tailors dummy, or as if he was giving a helping hand to a fellow who was soused He shoved him into the back of the car, and then took the wheel

I caught my pals eye, and by the time the car had started the two of us were on the rear bumper. They used to call me the cat, and it wasnt a bad name either

Well, off we drove. The chap took us all over the shop. Seemed to be looking for something. More than once he turned and went back. But as soon as he struck the Canal Saint-Martin we tumbled to it. I dont need to tell you what he was up to the time he opened the door and shut it again; and the carcass was in the ditch