The Yellow Dog by Georges Simenon Page B

create as few ripples in the air as a ghost.
    â€˜You’ll notice that it was the local police – just ordinary policemen – who arrested him, whereas …’
    â€˜You still insist that I make an arrest?’
    â€˜What do you mean? Are you claiming you can lay hands on the fugitive?’
    â€˜You asked me yesterday to make an arrest, any arrest …’
    The reporters were outside, helping the police in their search. The café was practically empty. There had been no time to clean it up, though, and an acrid odour of stale tobacco smoke hung in the air. The floor was covered with cigarette butts,
spittle, sawdust and broken glass.
    The inspector drew a blank arrest warrant from his wallet. ‘Say the word,
Monsieur le Maire
, and I’ll—’
    â€˜I’d be curious to know whom you would arrest!’
    â€˜Emma, pen and ink, please.’
    Maigret was drawing short puffs on his pipe. He heard the mayor mutter, just loud enough to be heard, ‘Bluffing!’
    Unflustered, he wrote, in his usual large angular strokes: ‘Ernest Michoux, Director, White Sands Property Company.’
    The scene was more comic than tragic. The mayor read the warrant upside down. Maigret said, ‘There you are! Since you insist, I’m arresting the doctor …’
    Michoux looked at the two of them, gave the sickly
smile of a man who cannot decide how to take a joke. But it was Emma the inspector was watching – Emma, who walked towards the till and suddenly turned
around, less pale than usual and unable to disguise a surge of joy.
    â€˜I suppose, inspector, that you realize the gravity of—’
    â€˜It’s my trade,
Monsieur le Maire
.’
    â€˜And the best you can do, after what’s happened, is arrest a friend of mine – an associate, rather – and one of Concarneau’s distinguished citizens?’
    â€˜Have you got a comfortable jail?’
    During this conversation, Michoux seemed to be having a problem swallowing.
    â€˜Aside from the police station, in the town hall, there’s only the police barracks, in the Old Town …’
    Leroy had just come in. He gasped when Maigret said to him, in a perfectly natural voice: ‘Now, Leroy, be so good as to escort the doctor to the police barracks. Discreetly. No need to handcuff him … Lock him up, and make sure he
has everything he needs.’
    â€˜It’s utter madness!’ babbled the doctor. ‘I don’t understand what’s going on … I … It’s unheard of … It’s an outrage!’
    â€˜Yes, indeed,’ Maigret muttered. Turning to the mayor, he said: ‘I have no objection to continuing the search for your vagrant – that keeps the public busy. It might even be useful. But don’t attach too much importance to
his capture … Reassure people.’
    â€˜You’re aware that when the police caught him this morning they found a flick knife on him?’
    â€˜I’m not surprised.’
    Maigret was growing impatient. Standing up, he slipped
on his heavy overcoat, turned up its velvet collar and brushed his bowler hat on his sleeve.
    â€˜I’ll see you later,
Monsieur le Maire
. I’ll keep you informed. Another word of advice: try to keep people from talking too much to the reporters. When it comes right down to it, there’s barely enough in all this to
shake a stick at … Are you coming?’ This question was addressed to the young policeman, who glanced at the mayor as if to say, ‘Excuse me, but I have to go along with him.’
    Leroy was circling the doctor like a man utterly perplexed by an unwieldy bundle.
    Maigret tapped Emma on the cheek as he passed, and then crossed the square, unruffled by the curious stares. ‘This way?’
    â€˜Yes. We have to go round the harbour. It should take half an hour.’
    The fishermen were less