The Dancer at the Gai-Moulin by Georges Simenon Page B

René’s
     father, who wants to know how much his son owes.’
    â€˜Let me check in my book. Monsieur
     René alone, or with his friend? Er … A hundred and fifty, plus
     seventy-five, plus the ten, and the hundred and twenty from yesterday.’
    Delfosse passed him a thousand-franc
     note and snapped:
    â€˜Keep the change.’
    â€˜Oh thank you, sir, thank you very
     much! Won’t you stay for a drink?’
    But Delfosse senior was heading for the
     door, without looking left or right. He went past the chief inspector, whom he did
     not know. As he went out, he almost bumped into a new arrival, but took no notice
     and climbed into his car.
    And yet the main event of the evening
     was about to take place. The man who had just entered was large and
     broad-shouldered, with heavy jowls and an impassive expression.
    Adèle, who was the first to see him, no
     doubt because she was watching the door, opened her eyes wide and looked taken
     aback.
    The newcomer went straight up to her and
     held out his plump hand.
    â€˜How are
     you, since the other night?’
    She tried to smile.
    â€˜Quite well, thank you. And
     yourself?’
    The journalists murmured among
     themselves as they watched him.
    â€˜Bet you anything that’s
     him.’
    â€˜But he wouldn’t just walk
     in here tonight.’
    As if in a show of bravado, the man
     pulled out a tobacco pouch from his pocket and began packing his pipe.
    â€˜A pale ale,’ he called to
     Victor, who was passing with a tray of glasses.
    Victor nodded, and went on, making his
     way round by the two policemen, to whom he whispered:
    â€˜That’s him!’
    How did the news spread? At any rate, a
     minute later everyone was staring at the broad-shouldered man, who was perching with
     one thigh on a bar stool, the other leg dangling, and sipping his English beer while
     looking round at the clientele through his misted glass.
    Three times, Génaro had to snap his
     fingers to make the jazz band start another number. And even the professional
     dancer, as he guided his partner round the polished dance-floor, did not take his
     eyes off the man.
    Chief Inspector Delvigne and his
     colleague exchanged glances. The reporters were watching them.
    â€˜OK?’
    And they stood up together and went
     casually over to the bar. The chief inspector leaned his elbows on the counter next
     to the newcomer. Girard stood behind him, ready to block his exit.
    The band played
     on. And yet everyone had the feeling that there was an abnormal silence.
    â€˜Excuse me, monsieur. But were you
     staying at the Hôtel Moderne?’
    A heavy gaze was turned on the
     speaker.
    â€˜Yes. What of it?’
    â€˜I believe you forgot to fill out
     the police form.’
    Adèle was close by, eyes fixed on the
     stranger. Génaro was uncorking a bottle of champagne.
    â€˜If this is not too inconvenient,
     would you mind coming to my office to fill it in? But carefully does it. No fuss
     please.’
    Delvigne was scrutinizing his
     interlocutor’s features and trying to identify, without success, what was so
     impressive about him.
    â€˜Now, will you follow me, please,
     monsieur?’
    â€˜Just a moment.’
    The man put his hand in his pocket.
     Inspector Girard, thinking that he was about to pull out a revolver, made the
     mistake of drawing his own.
    People round them stood up. A woman
     screamed. But the man had only been feeling for some coins, which he placed on the
     counter, saying:
    â€˜Right, after you.’
    Their exit was far from discreet. The
     sight of the revolver had terrified the customers, otherwise they would no doubt
     have crowded round the three men. The chief inspector went first. Then the strange
     man. Finally Girard, red-faced because of his inappropriate move.
    A photographer’s flashbulb popped.
     A car was at the door.
    â€˜Be so good
     as to get in.’
    It took no more than three