Lock No. 1 Read Online Free PDF

looking at each other with the same
     stifled mirth which was full of unspoken thoughts, perhaps of defiance and maybe too
     of an odd respect.
    â€˜Shall I call the girl to show you
     out?’
    â€˜No thanks. I know the
     way.’
    They did not shake hands, and that also
     happened as if by mutual consent. Ducrau remained by the open window, a black shadow
     against the brightness outside. He was doubtless more tired than he wished to
     appear, for he was breathing quickly.
    â€˜Good hunting! Maybe you’ll
     win the twenty thousand francs yourself!’
    As he passed the kitchen door, Maigret
     heard crying coming from inside. He let himself out on to the landing, went down a
     few steps, stopped in the shaft of sunlight,
which had changed place, in order to look at a document
     from the file he had in his pocket. It was the pathologist’s report, which,
     among other things, said:
The tentative hypothesis of suicide
     should be discarded since it is impossible for a man to stab himself with a
     knife in the place where the wound is situated.
    Someone was moving around in the
     semi-darkness inside the concierge’s lodge. She had just got back.
    Emerging on to the pavement outside was
     like stepping into a bath of heat, light, noise, coloured dust and movement. A
     number 13 stopped then set off immediately. The bell on the door of the bar to the
     right rang out, while stones clattered down inside the crushing mill and a small tug
     with a blue triangle hooted as loudly as it could, venting its fury at the sluice of
     the lock, which had just been slammed shut in its face.

3.
    Above the steam vessel in the middle of
     the dazzling-blue sign-board flew a swarm of seagulls, and underneath were the
     words: ‘Eagles’ Rest. Marne and Haute-Seine River Pilots’
     Bar.’
    It was the bar on the right. Maigret
     pushed the door open and sat down in a corner, while silence closed in all around
     him. There were only five men there, sitting around a table, their legs crossed,
     chairs tilted back, caps pulled down over their eyes because of the sun’s
     glare. Four were wearing blue jerseys with high necks, and all had the same
     well-tanned skin, with lines so fine they scarcely showed, and hair which was
     greying on the back of their necks and at the temples.
    The man who got up and came over to
     Maigret was the landlord.
    â€˜What’ll it be?’
    The café was clean. There was sawdust on
     the floor, the metal surface of the counter gleamed, and everywhere there was that
     bittersweet smell which signals the aperitif hour.
    â€˜Aha!’ muttered one of the
     men as he relit his half-smoked cigarette.
    This ‘Aha!’ was clearly
     intended for Maigret who had ordered a beer and was gently pressing tobacco down in
his pipe. Directly facing him in the
     group was a shrunken old man with a yellowish beard who drank the contents of his
     glass in one gulp and as he wiped his moustache grunted:
    â€˜Fill her up again,
     Fernand!’
    There was a bandage round his right arm,
     and this confirmed that he was old man Gassin. The others had started making knowing
     signs to each other as they nodded in the direction of the boatman who was glaring
     at Maigret with such venom that the hairy skin of his face was screwed up tight.
    He had been drinking, as was obvious
     from the fuddled clumsiness of his movements. In Maigret he had smelled police, and
     his comrades sniggered at his agitated state.
    â€˜Happy days, Gassin!’
    By now he was fuming.
    â€˜Seems like you got something to
     say, a tale to tell to this gentleman!’
    And one of the men gave Maigret a wink
     which meant:
    â€˜Pay no attention! You can see the
     state he’s in!’
    The landlord was perhaps the only one
     who felt slightly uneasy, but his customers were enjoying themselves hugely, and
     there was a feeling of genuine friendliness in the air. Through the window, only the