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Authors: Georges Simenon
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The Russian girl left after taking an age freshening her make-up.
So the only one now left in the bar was yogurt man. Heurtin had watched the girl leave without batting an eye. The lights were switched on, though the branched street lamps were not yet lit.
A drinks steward replenished the stock of bottles. Another employee quickly brushed the floor.
The sound of a spoon on a saucer, especially because it came from the corner where the man with red hair was sitting, came as much of a surprise to the bartender as to Maigret.
Without getting to his feet, without trying to conceal his disdain for such a niggardly customer, the bartender called out:
âOne yoghurt, one café au lait. Three francs plus one franc fifty â¦Â that comes to four francs fifty!â
âExcuse me, Iâd like you to bring me some caviar sandwiches.â
The voice was calm and collected. In the mirror, the inspector caught the laughter in the manâs half-closed eyes.
The bartender raised the hatch.
âOne caviar sandwich! Just the one!â
âThree!â said the customer, correcting him.
âThree caviar sandwiches! Thatâs three!â
The bartender looked suspiciously across at the man and asked, in an ironic voice:
âYou want vodka with that?â
âYes, bring vodka.â
Maigret was trying hard to understand. The man had changed. His unusual stillness had vanished.
âAnd cigarettes!â
âMarylands?â
âAbdullahs.â
He smoked one while the sandwiches were being made and amused himself doodling on the packet. Then he ate so fast that he was on his feet by the time the bartender had barely returned to his post.
âThirty francs for the sandwiches, six for the vodka, twenty-two for the Abdullahs plus the previous orders â¦â
âIâll call in and pay you tomorrow.â
Maigret frowned. He could still see Heurtin sitting on his bench.
âJust a moment â¦Â Youâd best put that to the manager.â
The man with red hair gave a nod and, after returning to his seat, sat and waited. The manager appeared. He was in a dinner suit.
âWhat is it?â
âItâs this gentleman. He wants to come back and pay tomorrow. Three caviar sandwiches, a packet of Abdullahs and so on.â
The customer did not seem at all embarrassed. He gave another polite nod, which seemed more mocking than ever, and confirmed what the bartender had said.
âDo you have any money with you?â
âNot a bean.â
âDo you live locally? Iâll send a man with you â¦â
âThereâs no money at home either.â
âAnd yet you order caviar?â
The manager clapped his hands. A youth in uniform appeared.
âGo and fetch me a policeman.â
It was all happening quietly, with no fuss.
âAre you sure you have no money?â
âI told you.â
The youth, who had waited for this answer, left at a run. Maigret did not stir. Meanwhile, the manager stood there, calmly watching the passing interest in Rue Montparnasse.
From time to time, the bartender winked knowingly at Maigret as he wiped his bottles.
Three minutes had hardly passed when the youth came back with two officers on bicycles, which they parked outside.
One of them recognized the inspector and would have gone up to him if Maigret had not put him off with a frown. Meanwhile the manager explained simply and without unnecessary fuss:
âThis gentleman ordered caviar, expensive cigarettes and so forth and now refuses to pay.â
âI have no money,â repeated the man.
At a nod from Maigret, the policeman simply said:
âVery well! You can come down to the station and explain yourself there. Follow me.â
âCan I offer you gentlemen a little something?â asked the manager.
âNo, but thanks all the same.â
Trams, cars and crowds of people filled the boulevard over which the fading light was
So the only one now left in the bar was yogurt man. Heurtin had watched the girl leave without batting an eye. The lights were switched on, though the branched street lamps were not yet lit.
A drinks steward replenished the stock of bottles. Another employee quickly brushed the floor.
The sound of a spoon on a saucer, especially because it came from the corner where the man with red hair was sitting, came as much of a surprise to the bartender as to Maigret.
Without getting to his feet, without trying to conceal his disdain for such a niggardly customer, the bartender called out:
âOne yoghurt, one café au lait. Three francs plus one franc fifty â¦Â that comes to four francs fifty!â
âExcuse me, Iâd like you to bring me some caviar sandwiches.â
The voice was calm and collected. In the mirror, the inspector caught the laughter in the manâs half-closed eyes.
The bartender raised the hatch.
âOne caviar sandwich! Just the one!â
âThree!â said the customer, correcting him.
âThree caviar sandwiches! Thatâs three!â
The bartender looked suspiciously across at the man and asked, in an ironic voice:
âYou want vodka with that?â
âYes, bring vodka.â
Maigret was trying hard to understand. The man had changed. His unusual stillness had vanished.
âAnd cigarettes!â
âMarylands?â
âAbdullahs.â
He smoked one while the sandwiches were being made and amused himself doodling on the packet. Then he ate so fast that he was on his feet by the time the bartender had barely returned to his post.
âThirty francs for the sandwiches, six for the vodka, twenty-two for the Abdullahs plus the previous orders â¦â
âIâll call in and pay you tomorrow.â
Maigret frowned. He could still see Heurtin sitting on his bench.
âJust a moment â¦Â Youâd best put that to the manager.â
The man with red hair gave a nod and, after returning to his seat, sat and waited. The manager appeared. He was in a dinner suit.
âWhat is it?â
âItâs this gentleman. He wants to come back and pay tomorrow. Three caviar sandwiches, a packet of Abdullahs and so on.â
The customer did not seem at all embarrassed. He gave another polite nod, which seemed more mocking than ever, and confirmed what the bartender had said.
âDo you have any money with you?â
âNot a bean.â
âDo you live locally? Iâll send a man with you â¦â
âThereâs no money at home either.â
âAnd yet you order caviar?â
The manager clapped his hands. A youth in uniform appeared.
âGo and fetch me a policeman.â
It was all happening quietly, with no fuss.
âAre you sure you have no money?â
âI told you.â
The youth, who had waited for this answer, left at a run. Maigret did not stir. Meanwhile, the manager stood there, calmly watching the passing interest in Rue Montparnasse.
From time to time, the bartender winked knowingly at Maigret as he wiped his bottles.
Three minutes had hardly passed when the youth came back with two officers on bicycles, which they parked outside.
One of them recognized the inspector and would have gone up to him if Maigret had not put him off with a frown. Meanwhile the manager explained simply and without unnecessary fuss:
âThis gentleman ordered caviar, expensive cigarettes and so forth and now refuses to pay.â
âI have no money,â repeated the man.
At a nod from Maigret, the policeman simply said:
âVery well! You can come down to the station and explain yourself there. Follow me.â
âCan I offer you gentlemen a little something?â asked the manager.
âNo, but thanks all the same.â
Trams, cars and crowds of people filled the boulevard over which the fading light was
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