avec Mme Guillotine.

Paris, 1968

The inner court of the prison was all surrounded by a high wall of concrete, dirty and old. Behind the barbwire, deciduous trees loomed.

Maigret, stonefaced, was the first who stepped out of the dark floor guiding to the execution courtyard.
Right behind him, wearing his best dress, the marquis of Languedoc, better known as “the Huguenot”. Hands together in bracelets.

Some steps down into the court, silent, another few moves, the last one in his life.

Drizzle fell over all protagonists. On the other side of the towering walls, in freedom, some accordionmusic started to play. Slow, sad, beautiful. The last wish of the Marquis.

He went to pass Ace Heart, the secret agent who overthrew him.

Both gazed right in their eyes. Noone said something. Even one word would have been to much.

Suddenly, de Languedoc closed his eyes. His face showed such a peaceful mood, and in this very moment Ace realized: The Huguenot wanted to die like this. That was the only reason for him why he stopped ducking.

The marquis climbed up the few stairs to the schaffot. With dropped head, he listened to the last notes of the music. Then, for the first time he started to speack.

“You are ‘appy know, are you not, monsieur ‘eart? Well, do not ‘alloo till you are out of the wood! I will fall, but the queue behind my back is long! W.R.A.I.T.H. will fall, YOU will fall. The Union was made for eternity.”

Although he nearly whispered, everyone heard him.

The hangmen fixed his body on the board, then shoved it under the fallblade.

Onehundred and sixtyfive murders.

Twohundred heavy assaults.

For the Union, for Wraith.

The guillotine fell.

Nothing more than darkness.

Ace Heart and Queenie are c to AQB52, the Marquis is c to me.
Maigret is c to George Simenon