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make the best sense he could of it. Thus, the second-floor tenants were named Bourniquel. The father was out of town, there were four children and a fifth expected, and they kept a maid.
    The fifth-floor tenants were the Siveschis. Maigret had had his first taste of the family that morning, in the person of the fat and shameless Potsi. He had now also seen the skinny one, Nouchi.
    “Their mother doesn’t believe in discipline. People like them don’t know about manners and dignity. Listen to this: Only last week, when I took up their mail, I knocked, as usual. Someone called out ‘Come in!’…I opened the door in all innocence, and what did I see? Madame Siveschi, stark naked, smoking a cigarette…She wasn’t even embarrassed. And her daughters were there with her in the room!”
    “What is Monsieur Siveschi’s profession?”
    “His profession! My poor dear sir, saving your presence! He comes and goes…He always has books under his arm…He’s the one who does the household shopping. He’s two quarters behind with the rent, but you won’t catch him hiding from the rent collector! Rather, he seems to look on his visits as something of a joke…Now, poor little Monsieur Legrand, Monsieur Gaston as I call him, he’s very different. He keeps the bicycle shop. A thoroughly honorable little man, who started life selling newspapers, and pulled himself up by his bootstraps…Sometimes he finds himself short at the end of the month, and, when that happens, I swear to you, he can scarcely look his neighbors in the face, not even me, although I…He’s been married barely three months and, to save paying rent for lodgings, they sleep at the back of the shop, all among the spare wheels and tires…Well, I never! I bet you that pest, Nouchi…”
    It was Maigret who went to the door, having spotted a shadowy figure lurking outside. It was indeed the little Hungarian, with her big, dark eyes, and her mouth like a bleeding gash.
    “What do you want?” he asked.
    She replied, not in the least put out:
    “I wanted to see you…I was told that the famous Chief Superintendent Maigret…”
    She looked him straight in the eye. Although she was thin, with no hips to speak of, her breasts, by contrast, were well developed and pointed and accentuated by her dress, which was a size too small for her.
    “Very well! Now you’ve seen me…”
    “Don’t I get asked any questions?”
    “Have you anything to tell me?”
    “Maybe…”
    Outraged, Madame “Saving-Your-Presence.” sighed and shook her head as vigorously as her stiff neck would permit.
    “Come in…What’s all this about?”
    Nouchi skipped into the lodge as though she belonged there. She was triumphant. Maybe someone had dared her to accost the Chief Superintendent.
    “I wanted to tell you about Monsieur Dandurand…”
    “Who’s he?” Maigret asked, turning to the concierge.
    And she, indignant at the intrusion of Nouchi, expostulated:
    “I don’t know what kind of a yarn she’s going to spin you, but I can tell you, saving your presence, that those kids will lie as soon as look at you…Monsieur Dandurand used to be a lawyer, a thoroughly respectable man, very sincere, quiet, and altogether…He occupies the whole of the fourth floor, and has done so for years. He goes out for all his meals. He never has any visitors. He’ll be back any moment now, I expect…”
    “So what!” Nouchi stated coolly. “Monsieur Dandurand is an old pig…Whenever I come down the stairs, he’s watching behind his door. What’s more, he’s followed me into the street. Only last month, as I was passing his door, he signaled me to come in…”
    Madame “Saving-Your-Presence.” held up her hands to the ceiling, as if to say:
    “Do we have to listen to this depraved child?”
    “Last Monday, I went in, just out of curiosity, and he offered to show me his photographs…It was really rather revolting. He told me that if I would come and visit him sometimes, he’d give