Without the injuries, the mans face would have been unremarkable, fairly young and probably quite cheerful.
Even in death, there were traces of something open and honest in his expression . . .
That shoeless foot looked incongruous lying on the pavement next to another foot encased in a shoe made of black kid leather.
It was naked, private. It did not really seem dead.
It was Maigret who retrieved the other shoe which lay by the kerb six or seven metres away.