The Carter of ’La Providence’ by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Georges Simenon
pensioned off.
âYouâve seen him. A magnificent specimen, with vigorous appetites. Out there, he had thirty native boys, orderlies, secretaries and God knows how many cars and horses for his own use.
âThen all of a sudden, all gone! Something like a hundred thousand francs a year, wiped out.
âDid I say that heâd already been married twice before he met Mary? His first wife died in India. Second time round, he got a divorce by taking all the fault on himself after finding his lady in bed with one of the boys.
âA real gentlemen!â
Willy, now leaning well back, was swinging one leg lethargically, while Maigret, his pipe between his teeth, stood with his back against the wall without moving.
âThatâs how it goes. Nowadays, he passes the time as well as he can. Down at Porquerolles, he lives in his old fort, which the locals call the Petit Langoustier. When heâs saved up enough money, he goes to Paris or London.
âAnd just think that in India he used to give dinners for thirty or forty guests every week!â
âWas it about the colonel you wanted to talk to me?â murmured Maigret.
Willy did not bat an eyelid.
âActually, I was trying to put you in the picture. I mean, youâve never lived in India or London or had thirty native servants and God knows how many pretty girls at your beck and call â¦Â Iâm not trying to get under
your skin â¦
âBe that as it may, I met him two years ago.
âYou didnât know Mary when she was alive â¦Â An adorable creature but a brain like a birdâs â¦Â And a touch loud. If you werenât waiting hand and foot on her all the time, sheâd have a fit or cause a
scene.
âBy the way, do you know how old the colonel is? Sixty-eight.
âShe wore him out, if you follow me. She happily indulged his fantasies â heâs not past it yet! â but she could be a bit of a nuisance.
âThen she got a thing about me. I quite liked her.â
âI take it that Madame Negretti is Sir Walterâs mistress?â
âYes,â the young man agreed with a scowl. âItâs hard to explain â¦Â He canât live or drink on his own. He has to have people round him. We met her when we put in once at Bandol. The next morning, she
didnât leave. As far as heâs concerned, that was it. Sheâll stay as long as she likes.
âBut me, Iâm different. Iâm one of those rare men who can hold his whisky as well as the colonel.
âExcept perhaps for Vladimir, who youâve seen. Nine times out of ten, heâs the one who puts us both to bed in our bunks.
âI donât know if you have grasped my position. Itâs true that I have no material worries. Still, there are times when we get stuck in a port for a fortnight waiting for a cheque from London so that we can buy petrol!
âYes, and that necklace, which I shall come back to in a moment, has seen the inside of a pawnshop a score of times.
âNever mind! The whisky rarely runs out.
âItâs not exactly a lavish lifestyle. But we sleep for as long as we want. We come and we go.
âSpeaking personally, I much prefer it to being knee-deep in my fatherâs figs.
âAt the beginning, the colonel bought several items of jewellery for his wife. From time to time she would ask him for money.
âTo buy clothes and so that she had a little pocket-money, if you follow me.
âBut whatever you might think, I swear I got a colossal shock yesterday when I realized it was her in that awful photo! So did the colonel, actually â¦Â But heâd go through fire and water rather than show his feelings.
Thatâs his style. And so very English!
âWhen we left Paris last week â itâs Tuesday today, isnât it â the cash was running low. The colonel sent a cable to London asking for an advance on his pension. We waited
âYouâve seen him. A magnificent specimen, with vigorous appetites. Out there, he had thirty native boys, orderlies, secretaries and God knows how many cars and horses for his own use.
âThen all of a sudden, all gone! Something like a hundred thousand francs a year, wiped out.
âDid I say that heâd already been married twice before he met Mary? His first wife died in India. Second time round, he got a divorce by taking all the fault on himself after finding his lady in bed with one of the boys.
âA real gentlemen!â
Willy, now leaning well back, was swinging one leg lethargically, while Maigret, his pipe between his teeth, stood with his back against the wall without moving.
âThatâs how it goes. Nowadays, he passes the time as well as he can. Down at Porquerolles, he lives in his old fort, which the locals call the Petit Langoustier. When heâs saved up enough money, he goes to Paris or London.
âAnd just think that in India he used to give dinners for thirty or forty guests every week!â
âWas it about the colonel you wanted to talk to me?â murmured Maigret.
Willy did not bat an eyelid.
âActually, I was trying to put you in the picture. I mean, youâve never lived in India or London or had thirty native servants and God knows how many pretty girls at your beck and call â¦Â Iâm not trying to get under
your skin â¦
âBe that as it may, I met him two years ago.
âYou didnât know Mary when she was alive â¦Â An adorable creature but a brain like a birdâs â¦Â And a touch loud. If you werenât waiting hand and foot on her all the time, sheâd have a fit or cause a
scene.
âBy the way, do you know how old the colonel is? Sixty-eight.
âShe wore him out, if you follow me. She happily indulged his fantasies â heâs not past it yet! â but she could be a bit of a nuisance.
âThen she got a thing about me. I quite liked her.â
âI take it that Madame Negretti is Sir Walterâs mistress?â
âYes,â the young man agreed with a scowl. âItâs hard to explain â¦Â He canât live or drink on his own. He has to have people round him. We met her when we put in once at Bandol. The next morning, she
didnât leave. As far as heâs concerned, that was it. Sheâll stay as long as she likes.
âBut me, Iâm different. Iâm one of those rare men who can hold his whisky as well as the colonel.
âExcept perhaps for Vladimir, who youâve seen. Nine times out of ten, heâs the one who puts us both to bed in our bunks.
âI donât know if you have grasped my position. Itâs true that I have no material worries. Still, there are times when we get stuck in a port for a fortnight waiting for a cheque from London so that we can buy petrol!
âYes, and that necklace, which I shall come back to in a moment, has seen the inside of a pawnshop a score of times.
âNever mind! The whisky rarely runs out.
âItâs not exactly a lavish lifestyle. But we sleep for as long as we want. We come and we go.
âSpeaking personally, I much prefer it to being knee-deep in my fatherâs figs.
âAt the beginning, the colonel bought several items of jewellery for his wife. From time to time she would ask him for money.
âTo buy clothes and so that she had a little pocket-money, if you follow me.
âBut whatever you might think, I swear I got a colossal shock yesterday when I realized it was her in that awful photo! So did the colonel, actually â¦Â But heâd go through fire and water rather than show his feelings.
Thatâs his style. And so very English!
âWhen we left Paris last week â itâs Tuesday today, isnât it â the cash was running low. The colonel sent a cable to London asking for an advance on his pension. We waited
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