interested than the townsfolk in the drama going on around the Admiral café. A dozen boats were making the most of the lull in the storm and sculling out to the harbour mouth to pick up the wind.
The policeman kept looking at Maigret like a pupil eager to please his teacher. âYou know, the mayor played cards with the doctor at least twice a week. This must have given him a shock.â
âWhat are people saying?â
âThat depends. Ordinary folks â workers, fishermen â arenât too upset â¦Â In a way, theyâre even kind of glad about whatâs happening. The doctor, Monsieur Le Pommeret and Monsieur Servières arenât very well
thought of around here. Of course, theyâre important people, and nobody would dare say anything to them â¦Â Still, they took advantage, corrupting the girls from the canning
plant â¦Â And in the summer it was worse, with their
Parisian friends. They were always drinking, making a racket in the streets at two in the morning, as if the town belonged to them. We got a lot of complaints â¦Â Especially about Monsieur Le Pommeret, who couldnât see anything in a skirt without getting carried
away â¦Â Itâs sad to say, but things are slow at the cannery. Thereâs a lot of unemployment. So, if a man has a little money â¦Â all those girls â¦â
âWell, in that case, whoâs upset?â
âThe middle class. And the businessmen who rubbed shoulders with that bunch at the Admiral café â¦Â That was like the centre of town, you know. Even the mayor went there â¦â
The man was flattered by Maigretâs attention.
âWhere are we?â
âWeâve just left town. From here on, the coast is pretty much deserted â¦Â just rocks, pine woods and a few summer houses used by people from Paris â¦Â Itâs what we call Cabélou Point.â
âWhat made you think of nosing around out here?â
âWhen you told me and my partner to look for a drifter who might be the owner of the yellow dog, we first searched the old boats in the inner harbour. Now and then we find a tramp there. Last year, a cutter burned up because someone made a
fire to get warm and forgot to put it out.â
âFind anything?â
âNothing. It was my partner who thought of the old watchtower at Cabélou â¦Â Weâre just coming to it â that square stone structure on the last rocky point. It dates from the same time as the Old Town fortifications. Come
this way â¦Â watch out for the muck â¦Â A very long time ago, a caretaker lived here, a kind of watchman, who signalled when boats passed. From it, you can see really far. It overlooks the Glénan Islands channel, the only opening to the
sea. But it hasnât been manned for maybe fifty years.â
Maigret stepped through an opening whose door had vanished and entered a space with a beaten-earth floor. On the ocean side, narrow slits gave a view out over the water. On the other side was a single window, without panes or a frame. On the stone
walls were inscriptions cut by knifepoint; on the ground were dirty papers and all kinds of rubbish.
âFor nearly fifteen years, a man lived here, all alone. Weak in the head â sort of a child of nature. He slept over in that corner. Didnât mind the cold or the damp, or even the storms that flung spray in through the slits. He was a
local curiosity. In the summer, the Parisians would come to look at him, give him coins. A postcard pedlar took a picture of him and sold it at the entrance â¦Â The man finally died, during the War. And no one ever bothered to clean the place up â¦Â Yesterday, my partner
thought that if someone was hiding out around here, this might be the spot.â
Maigret started up the narrow stone stairway cut right into the wall and reached the lookout, a granite
The policeman kept looking at Maigret like a pupil eager to please his teacher. âYou know, the mayor played cards with the doctor at least twice a week. This must have given him a shock.â
âWhat are people saying?â
âThat depends. Ordinary folks â workers, fishermen â arenât too upset â¦Â In a way, theyâre even kind of glad about whatâs happening. The doctor, Monsieur Le Pommeret and Monsieur Servières arenât very well
thought of around here. Of course, theyâre important people, and nobody would dare say anything to them â¦Â Still, they took advantage, corrupting the girls from the canning
plant â¦Â And in the summer it was worse, with their
Parisian friends. They were always drinking, making a racket in the streets at two in the morning, as if the town belonged to them. We got a lot of complaints â¦Â Especially about Monsieur Le Pommeret, who couldnât see anything in a skirt without getting carried
away â¦Â Itâs sad to say, but things are slow at the cannery. Thereâs a lot of unemployment. So, if a man has a little money â¦Â all those girls â¦â
âWell, in that case, whoâs upset?â
âThe middle class. And the businessmen who rubbed shoulders with that bunch at the Admiral café â¦Â That was like the centre of town, you know. Even the mayor went there â¦â
The man was flattered by Maigretâs attention.
âWhere are we?â
âWeâve just left town. From here on, the coast is pretty much deserted â¦Â just rocks, pine woods and a few summer houses used by people from Paris â¦Â Itâs what we call Cabélou Point.â
âWhat made you think of nosing around out here?â
âWhen you told me and my partner to look for a drifter who might be the owner of the yellow dog, we first searched the old boats in the inner harbour. Now and then we find a tramp there. Last year, a cutter burned up because someone made a
fire to get warm and forgot to put it out.â
âFind anything?â
âNothing. It was my partner who thought of the old watchtower at Cabélou â¦Â Weâre just coming to it â that square stone structure on the last rocky point. It dates from the same time as the Old Town fortifications. Come
this way â¦Â watch out for the muck â¦Â A very long time ago, a caretaker lived here, a kind of watchman, who signalled when boats passed. From it, you can see really far. It overlooks the Glénan Islands channel, the only opening to the
sea. But it hasnât been manned for maybe fifty years.â
Maigret stepped through an opening whose door had vanished and entered a space with a beaten-earth floor. On the ocean side, narrow slits gave a view out over the water. On the other side was a single window, without panes or a frame. On the stone
walls were inscriptions cut by knifepoint; on the ground were dirty papers and all kinds of rubbish.
âFor nearly fifteen years, a man lived here, all alone. Weak in the head â sort of a child of nature. He slept over in that corner. Didnât mind the cold or the damp, or even the storms that flung spray in through the slits. He was a
local curiosity. In the summer, the Parisians would come to look at him, give him coins. A postcard pedlar took a picture of him and sold it at the entrance â¦Â The man finally died, during the War. And no one ever bothered to clean the place up â¦Â Yesterday, my partner
thought that if someone was hiding out around here, this might be the spot.â
Maigret started up the narrow stone stairway cut right into the wall and reached the lookout, a granite
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