A Man's Head by Georges Simenon Page A

days, just the two of us. You probably won’t understand it all. Still, you already think of yourself as one of the clever people.’
    The bartender put the caviar sandwiches down on the table and said, not without a wink in Maigret’s direction:
    â€˜Sixty francs.’
    Radek smiled. In his corner, Inspector Janvier was still crouching behind his newspaper.
    â€˜A packet of Abdullahs,’ ordered the red-haired Czech.
    And while the cigarettes were being brought, he ostentatiously took from an outside pocket of his jacket a shabby 1,000-franc note, which he tossed on to the table.
    â€˜Now what were we saying, inspector? … Would you excuse me a moment? I’ve just remembered I must call my tailor.’
    The phone booth was located at the far end of the brasserie, from which there were several exits.
    Maigret did not move from where he was. But Janvier, needing no urging, followed their man at a distance.
    And then they both came back, one behind the other, as they had left. With a look, Janvier confirmed that the Czech had indeed phoned his tailor.

7. Little Man
    â€˜Would you like a valuable piece of advice, inspector?’
    Radek had lowered his voice as he leaned towards his companion.
    â€˜Actually I know what you’ll think before you think it! But that is a matter of complete indifference to me. Here’s my opinion anyway, my advice, if you prefer. Let it go! You are about to stir up a terrible hornets’
nest.’
    Maigret remained stock still, looking straight ahead of him.
    â€˜And you’ll go on losing your way because you haven’t a clue about any of it.’
    Slowly the Czech was becoming excited, but in a muted way, so typical of the man. Maigret now noticed the man’s hands, which were long, surprisingly white and dotted with freckles. They seemed to reach out and in their way be part, so to
speak, of the conversation.
    â€˜Let’s be clear that it’s not your professionalism which I question. If you understand nothing, and I mean zero, it’s because from the very start you’ve been working with facts which had been falsified. And once that
is conceded, everything that has flowed from them is false too, no? And everything you will discover will also be false, and so on all down the line.
    â€˜On the other hand, the few points which might have given you something solid to work from you missed …
    â€˜Just one example. Admit that you have not noticed the role played by the Seine in this case. The villa at Saint-Cloud overlooks the Seine. Rue Monsieur-le-Prince is 500 metres from the Seine. The Citanguette, where the papers say the
condemned man hid out after his escape, is by the Seine. Heurtin was born at Melun, on the Seine. His parents live at Nandy, which is on the banks of the Seine …’
    The Czech’s eyes were all laughter in a face which remained deadly serious.
    â€˜That must make you feel pretty foolish, no? It looks as if I’m throwing myself into your net, no? You don’t ask me anything, yet here I am talking about a crime which you’d love to charge me with … But how? Why? I
have no links with Heurtin, no links with Crosby, no links with Madame Henderson or her maid! All you have on me is that yesterday Joseph Heurtin came prowling round here and appeared to be staring at me.
    â€˜Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. But that doesn’t alter the fact that I walked out of this place escorted by two policemen.
    â€˜But what does that all prove?
    â€˜I tell you: you don’t understand any of it and never will.
    â€˜And what am I doing in the midst of it all? Nothing! Or maybe everything!
    â€˜Now suppose that there is an intelligent man, a very intelligent man, who has no call on his time and spends every day thinking, who is unexpectedly presented with an opportunity to study a problem with a direct bearing on his special
subject. Because criminality and