A Crime in Holland by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page B

town, would take at least thirty minutes.
    But it would take only six or seven minutes crossing the canal this way, avoiding the long detour!
    Maigret kept walking with his deliberate, heavy tread, beside the young man, who was trembling like a leaf, and when the donkey started braying again, Cornelius jumped, quivering from head to toe as if he were about to run away.
    â€˜You’re in love with Beetje?’
    A stubborn silence.
    â€˜And you saw her come back, after your tutor had seen her home?’
    â€˜That’s not true. Not true.’
    Maigret was on the point of calming him down with a good shaking.
    And yet he looked at him with an indulgent, perhaps affectionate air.
    â€˜You see Beetje every day?’
    Another silence.
    â€˜What time are you supposed to be back on the college boat?’
    â€˜Ten … If not permission. When I went my tutor, me can …’
    â€˜Be back later? But not tonight?’
    They were standing on the bank, near the place where Cornelius had crossed the canal. Maigret headed for the tree trunks, in the most natural way in the world, put his foot on the first and almost fell into the water, because he wasn’t used to it and the log rolled under his foot.
    â€˜Come on. It’ll soon be ten o’clock.’
    The boy looked astonished. He must have been expecting never to see his college boat again, and to be arrested and thrown into jail.
    And now this terrible French inspector was escorting him back, and preparing, like him, to jump over the two-metre gap in the middle of the canal. They splashed each other. On the other bank, Maigret stopped to wipe his trouser leg.
    â€˜Where is it?’
    He hadn’t explored this bank yet. There was a large area of wasteland between the Amsterdiep and the new canal, which was wide, deep and navigable by sea-going vessels.
    Looking behind him, the inspector could see a single
window lit on the first floor of the Popinga house. A figure, Any’s, was moving behind the curtains. It must be Popinga’s study. But he couldn’t guess what the young lawyer was doing.
    Cornelius had calmed down a little.
    â€˜I swear …’ he began.
    â€˜No!’
    That took him aback.
    He stared at the inspector with such a wild-eyed expression that Maigret tapped him on the shoulder, saying:
    â€˜Never swear to anything. Especially in your situation. Would you have wanted to marry Beetje?’
    â€˜
Ja, oh ja!
’
    â€˜And would her father have agreed to that?’
    Silence. Head down, Cornelius kept on walking, threading his way among the old boats hauled up on the shore.
    The broad surface of the Ems canal came into sight. At the bend a large black-and-white vessel loomed up, with every porthole illuminated. A high prow. Mast and rigging.
    It was a former Dutch navy vessel, a hundred years old, now no longer seaworthy but moored here as accommodation for the students at the Naval College.
    Around it moved some dark silhouettes and the glow of cigarette ends. The sound of a piano came from the games room.
    Suddenly the peal of a hand bell was heard, and all the silhouettes on the bank merged into a crowd around the gangway, while further down the path from the town, four stragglers were returning at a run.
    It was like the sight at a school gate, except that all these
young men aged between sixteen and twenty-two were in the uniform of naval officers, with white gloves and stiff peaked caps trimmed with gold braid.
    A grizzled quartermaster, leaning on the guardrail, watched them filing in while he smoked his pipe.
    A youthful scene, lively and full of fun. Jokes that Maigret couldn’t understand were exchanged. Cigarettes were flung down as the gangway was reached. And on board there were mock fights, chases.
    The last arrivals, out of breath, were reaching the foot of the gangway. Cornelius, red-eyed, his features drawn and his expression anguished, turned to Maigret.
    â€˜Go on, get