Werewolf of Paris by Guy Endore Read Free Book Online

against his face. He breathed the warmth of her flesh. Despite himself he felt a powerful compulsion. Thoroughly disturbed, he found some excuse or other to dismiss the girl, and remained for a long time incapable of concentrating on his literary endeavors.

    * The report of this theft to the police uncovered the whole tale and thus came to the knowledge of Favre, who included it among the various cases in the chapter: “Suffer little children to come unto me…”

Chapter Three
    O ne day as he was hobbling out, the door to the kitchen opened and Aymar heard himself called softly by Françoise: “M Aymar! Psst! ”
    He turned around. She beckoned him mysteriously to come into the kitchen and when he had followed her call, she first closed the door, and then whispered to him: “Do you know what terrible things are happening here?”
    â€œWhy, no,” he said innocently.
    â€œI mean about Josephine.”
    â€œWhy, what’s the trouble with her?” He had wanted to say: “Why, what’s the trouble with her again?” but had restrained himself, not being quite sure that Françoise had been informed of the Pitamont affair, Mme Didier having been so anxious to keep the matter quiet.
    â€œHer conduct is…how shall I say, monsieur…c’est une dévergondée!”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean that the butcher’s boy, the concierge’s young son, the greengrocer himself, everybody, simply everybody has had her. And if they have not had her, then it was only because they were decent enough to refuse. Yes, monsieur, I never thought that would happen to this house. A young country girl. Why, when she came here she acted as if she didn’t know A from B. Monsieur, the whole neighborhood is talking about it!”
    â€œAre you sure of this?” said Aymar, though he himself was convinced at once. “How do you know that this is not simply malicious gossip?”
    She then told him how she had seen things with her own eyes. How she had caught the girl and the concierge’s son up in the garret in a manner that left no doubt. Thereafter she had forbidden the girl to leave the house, but she had run away. Of course, people would say there was another girl ruined by the wicked city, but she knew better. That girl must have brought those habits with her from the country.
    Aymar let her talk on, wondering himself. Could it be that that first display of bewilderment and grief and shame had been mere acting on Josephine’s part? No. Impossible. The girl had been pure before. It was Father Pitamont who had unleashed this beast in her body. The mayor of Mme Didier’s own home village would never have recommended a girl with a bad character.
    â€œWhat I want you to tell me, monsieur, is how I shall break the news to Madame. I’m afraid to go to her with all this trouble. She has had sorrow enough, poor Madame.”
    â€œLeave that to me,” Aymar consoled her. “I’ll take care of everything.”
    â€œYes, but do it at once. For who knows what may happen? Last night I woke up and found her gone from our bed. I waited, thinking she had gone out for only a moment. But when she didn’t come back, I got out of bed and looked for her. I must tell you, monsieur, that she was not in the house at all. She had unlocked the door and gone out. It must be Jeannot the concierge’s son who unlocked the door downstairs for her. I fell asleep again and when I woke up she was back in bed and denied that she had ever been out. What shall we do with such a creature?”
    â€œLeave it to me,” Aymar said again, and wondered what he could do.
    But that evening Josephine waited on them at the dinner table as usual. And as usual she brought herself annoyingly into contact with Aymar. Nevertheless, her girlish face expressed nothing but purity and innocence. How could those tender, immature lineaments have expressed