Lock No. 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

railing of the quay was just about visible, along with the masts and helms of
     barges, and the roof of the lock-keeper’s house.
    â€˜When are you off, then,
     Gassin?’
    Then another man said, in a whisper:
    â€˜Go on, tell him!’
    It seemed that his
     advice would be followed. The old man stood up and with the forced casualness of
     drunks shambled to the counter.
    â€˜Another one, Fernand!’
    He was still watching Maigret. There was
     something very complex in his expression, for in his look there was a hint of
     insolence to be sure but also a degree of underlying hopelessness.
    The inspector tapped the table with a
     coin to summon the landlord.
    â€˜What do I owe you?’
    Fernand, leaning over the table, told
     him the amount then added in a whisper:
    â€˜Don’t provoke him.
     He’s been drunk for two days.’
    The words were only half spoken, but
     from where he was sitting the old man thundered:
    â€˜What you saying?’
    Maigret was on his feet. He wasn’t
     looking for trouble. He put on his most inoffensive expression and made for the
     door. When he had crossed the road, he turned and saw Gassin, who was now at the
     window, glass in hand, watching his every move.
    The air was warmer now, and dark gold in
     colour. A sleeping tramp lay stretched out on the stone flags of the quayside. There
     was a newspaper over his head.
    Cars drove past along with the trucks
     and trams, but by now Maigret had realized that they were not important. Whatever
     roared by like this along the road was not part of the landscape. Paris came this
     way to get to the banks of the Marne, but it was just traffic noise. What really
     counted
was the lock, the hooting of the
     tugs, the stone-crusher, the barges and the cranes, the two pilots’ bars and
     especially the tall house where he could make out Ducrau’s red chair framed by
     a window.
    People felt at home out of doors.
     Workmen from a crane were sitting on a pile of sand, having a bite to eat. A woman
     was setting up a table on the deck of her barge, and her neighbour was doing the
     washing.
    The inspector walked unhurriedly down
     the stone steps and rediscovered the same slow, strong rhythm of things he had felt
     once before when investigating a crime in Haute-Marne. Even the distinctive smell of
     the canal prompted images to flash into his mind of barges gliding without breaking
     the surface of the water.
    He was nearly at the
Golden
     Fleece
, with its hull built of wood coated with red-coloured resin. The
     deck, which had just been washed, was drying in patches, and the young woman was
     nowhere to be seen.
    Maigret took a couple of steps on the
     gangplank, turned, saw the old man leaning down over the railing above him. He went
     on and, once on board, called out:
    â€˜Anyone about?’
    On a nearby boat, the woman who was
     doing her washing watched him as he headed towards a double door with blue and red
     glass panes.
    â€˜Hello?’
    A short flight of stairs led down to
     what he could dimly make out as a clean, neat room. In one corner, he could even see
     a table with a cloth on it.
    He continued down the stairs and, when
     he reached the
last step, he came face to
     face with the young woman with fair hair, who was sitting on a straw-bottomed chair
     holding a baby to her breast.
    It was so unexpected and at the same
     time so natural a thing that the inspector removed his hat awkwardly, stuffed his
     still hot pipe into a pocket and took a step back.
    â€˜Oh, I’m sorry …’
    The young woman must have felt scared.
     She scrutinized him as if she were trying to guess his intentions, but she did not
     move from where she was, and the child’s tiny mouth remained clamped on her
     breast.
    â€˜I didn’t know … I’m
     in charge of the investigation and I came on board to ask you for some
     information.’
    As Maigret looked at her he felt vaguely
     uneasy. Some