Read Online The Dancer at the Gai-Moulin by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online Page B

word.
     They must have been waiting for someone or something. Monsieur Chabot did not dare
     smoke. Nor did he dare look at his son. He was as ill at ease as a poor patient in
     an eminent doctor’s waiting room. Jean followed the chief inspector with his
     eyes and every time he came near, seemed to want to say something.
    At last, steps were heard in the
     corridor. A knock at the door.
    â€˜Come
     in!’
    Two men entered the room: Génaro, short
     and stocky, in a light-coloured Norfolk jacket, and Victor the waiter, whom Chabot
     had never seen in street clothes, and who now, dressed in black, might have been
     taken for a cleric.
    â€˜So, monsieur,’ the Italian
     began volubly, ‘I received your summons just an hour ago, and—’
    â€˜Yes, yes. Now can you just tell
     me whether last night you saw Graphopoulos’s cigarette-case in the hands of
     René Delfosse?’
    Génaro made a gesture of apology.
    â€˜Personally, you know, I
     don’t pay much attention to the customers, but Victor will be able to tell
     you—’
    â€˜All right. You, then, can you
     answer the question?’
    Jean Chabot stared the waiter in the
     eye, breathing heavily. But Victor looked down slyly and murmured:
    â€˜I wouldn’t want to say
     anything against the young men who have always been very nice to me, but I suppose I
     must tell you the truth.’
    â€˜I want a yes or a no!’
    â€˜Well … yes, he did have
     it. I almost warned him to be prudent—’
    â€˜I don’t believe it!’
     Jean burst out. ‘Victor, how can you say that? Please listen,
     monsieur—’
    â€˜Be quiet! Now tell me what you
     think about the financial position of the two young men.’
    And Victor, sighing awkwardly, and
     speaking as if with reluctance, said:
    â€˜Well, of course they always owed
     me a bit of money.
And not just for
     drinks. They sometimes borrowed a little cash from me.’
    â€˜And what was your impression of
     Graphopoulos?’
    â€˜A rich foreigner, passing
     through. They’re our best customers. He ordered champagne straight away,
     didn’t ask the price. He gave me a tip of fifty francs.’
    â€˜And did you see any
     thousand-franc notes in his wallet?’
    â€˜Oh yes, he was loaded. Mainly
     French francs, not Belgian ones.’
    â€˜And that’s all you
     noticed?’
    â€˜He had a very fine pearl in his
     tie-pin.’
    â€˜And when did he leave?’
    â€˜A little after Adèle, who went
     out with another customer. A big man, who just drank beer and gave me twenty
sou
s as a tip. A Frenchman. He was smoking dark tobacco.’
    â€˜So you were left alone with the
     boss?’
    â€˜Yes, just long enough to turn out
     the lights and lock up.’
    â€˜And you went straight
     home?’
    â€˜Yes, as usual. Monsieur Génaro
     left me at the bottom of Rue Haute-Sauvenière, where he lives.’
    â€˜Next morning, when you arrived
     back at work, did you notice anything out of place in the room?’
    â€˜No, nothing. No blood or
     anything. The cleaners were in and I was supervising them.’
    Génaro was listening unconcernedly.
    The inspector spoke to him:
    â€˜Is it true that you usually leave
     the night’s takings in the till?’
    â€˜Who told you that?’
    â€˜Never mind! Answer my
     question.’
    â€˜No, I
     certainly don’t, I take it all home, except for the small change.’
    â€˜And how much would that
     be?’
    â€˜About fifty francs on average,
     just coins that I leave in the drawer.’
    â€˜But that’s not true!’
     shouted Jean Chabot. ‘I’ve seen him go out, oh, ten times, or twenty
     times, and leaving—’
    And Génaro asked:
    â€˜What’s going on? Is he
     saying that …’
    He looked genuinely amazed as he turned
     to the dancer.
    â€˜Adèle will tell