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Gallet, madame, did you have a fortune of your own?’
    She stiffened slightly, and then, with a tremor of pride in her voice, announced, ‘I am the daughter of Auguste Préjean!’
    â€˜Forgive me, but I …’
    â€˜The former secretary to the last Bourbon prince and editor of the legitimist journal
Le Soleil
. My father spent all he had on publishing that journal, which went on fighting the good fight.’
    â€˜Do you still have any family?’
    â€˜I must have, but I haven’t seen them since my marriage.’
    â€˜You were advised against marrying Monsieur Gallet?’
    â€˜What I’ve just told you ought to help you to understand. All my family are royalists. All my uncles occupied prominent positions, and some of them still do. They did not like it when I married a commercial traveller.’
    â€˜Then you were penniless on your father’s death?’
    â€˜My father died a year after my marriage. At the time when we married my husband had some 30,000 francs …’
    â€˜What about his family?’
    â€˜I never knew them. He avoided mentioning them … all I know is that he had an unhappy childhood and that he spent several years in Indochina.’
    There was the suggestion of a scornful smile on her son’s lips.
    â€˜I am asking you these questions, madame, because for
one thing I have just heard that your husband has not in fact worked for the firm of Niel for the last eighteen years.’
    She looked at the inspector, and then Henry, and protested emphatically, ‘Monsieur …’
    â€˜I have the information from Monsieur Niel himself.’
    â€˜Perhaps, monsieur, it would be better …’ began the young man, moving towards Maigret.
    â€˜No, Henry! I want to prove that what he says is false, it’s an odious lie! Come with me, inspector. Come along, follow me!’
    And, showing some liveliness for the first time, she made for the corridor, where she came up against the piles of black draperies being rolled up by the upholsterers. She took the inspector up to the first floor, through a bedroom with polished
walnut furniture, where Émile Gallet’s straw hat still hung on a hook, as well as a cotton drill outfit that he must have worn for fishing. Next came a small room furnished as a study.
    â€˜Look at that! Here are his samples. And those place settings, for instance, in that dreadful Art Deco style, you wouldn’t say they were eighteen years old, would you? Here’s the book of orders that my husband wrote up at the
end of every month. Here are some letters that he received regularly, on the Niel letterhead …’
    Maigret was paying very little attention to this. He felt sure that he would have to come back to this room and just now he preferred to let its atmosphere sink in. He tried to imagine Émile Gallet sitting here in the swivel chair at his desk. On
the desk itself there was a white metal inkwell and a glass globe acting as a paperweight. Through the window you could see the central avenue and the red roof of another uninhabited villa.
    The letters on the Niel letterhead were typed in an almost regular typeface:
Dear sir,
    We have received your letter of the 15th inst., as well as the statement of orders for January. We shall expect you at the end of the month to settle our account, as usual, and we will then give you some information about the expansion of your sphere of activity.
    With good wishes,
    Signed: Jean Niel
    Maigret picked up some of the letters and put them into his wallet.
    â€˜So what do you think now?’ asked Madame Gallet, with a touch of defiance.
    â€˜What’s that?’
    â€˜Oh, nothing … my husband liked to do things with his hands. Here’s an old watch that he took apart … and out in the shed there are all kinds of things that he made himself, including fishing gear. Every month he
had a full week to spend