Read Online The Night at the Crossroads by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online Page A

all on my own?’
    It was bewildering. Without any warning, without making grand gestures or even raising her voice, she had become touching, pitiable. It was in her eyes … Dismay beyond words. An expression of helplessness, of supplication.
    â€˜Tell me the truth, chief inspector! Tell me Carl isn’t guilty! If he were, then it would mean he had gone mad! I refuse to believe that! … It frightens me … His family …’
    â€˜Do you know of any insanity there?’
    She turned her head away.
    â€˜Yes, his grandfather died in a fit of madness. And one of his aunts is in an asylum. But no, not Carl! I know him …’
    â€˜Have you eaten any lunch?’
    Startled, she looked around her and replied in surprise, ‘No!’
    â€˜Aren’t you hungry? It’s three o’clock.’
    â€˜I think I am hungry, yes.’
    â€˜In that case, go and have lunch. There is no longer any reason for you to remain locked in. Your brother will not be coming back.’
    â€˜That’s not true! He will come back! He would never leave me all alone.’
    â€˜Come on …’
    Maigret was already out in the corridor, still frowning and still smoking his pipe. He did not take his eyes off the girl, but when she brushed past him it had no effect on him.
    Downstairs she seemed even more disoriented.
    â€˜It was always Carl who served our meals … I don’t even know if there’s anything to eat.’
    A loaf of bread turned up in the kitchen, at least, and a tin of condensed milk.
    â€˜No, I can’t, I’m too upset. Go away! … No, wait – don’t leave me! … Oh, this horrible house. I have never liked … What’s that? Out there!’
    She pointed to an animal outside, curled up in a ball on one of the paths through the grounds. It was only a cat.
    â€˜I hate animals! I hate the countryside! It’s full of creaking and snapping sounds that make me jump … At night – every night – there’s an owl somewhere that gives ghastly hooting cries …’
    The French windows seemed to frighten her as well, because she was staring at them as if she expected to see enemies pour through them from all sides.
    â€˜I will not sleep here alone in the house! I won’t!’
    â€˜Is there a telephone?’
    â€˜No … My brother thought about getting one, but we cannot afford it. Can you imagine? Living in such a big house, with I don’t know how many hectares, and not being able to pay for a telephone, or electricity or even a
cleaning woman for the hard work! That’s Carl all over! He’s like his father …’
    And she burst out laughing, but with an edge of hysteria.
    It was a difficult situation, because she could not manage to compose herself and although she was still shaking with laughter, there was desperation in her eyes.
    â€˜What is it? What’s so funny?’
    â€˜Nothing! You mustn’t be angry with me … I’m thinking of when we were children, in our castle back home, with Carl’s tutor and all the servants, the visitors, the carriages pulled by four horses … and
here
 …’
    Knocking over the tin of milk, she went to lean her forehead against a windowpane, staring out at the front steps baking in the sun.
    â€˜I’ll arrange for a policeman to keep an eye on the house tonight.’
    â€˜Yes, good … No! I don’t want a policeman, I want you to come yourself, chief inspector! Otherwise I’ll be frightened …’
    Was she laughing? Crying? She was panting: her entire body was trembling from head to toe.
    She might have been putting on a show to make a fool of someone – but she might just as well have been on the verge of a breakdown.
    â€˜Don’t leave me by myself!’
    â€˜I have work to do.’
    â€˜But if Carl