By Michael Innes
Sir John and woman Appleby attend a memorial exhibition of the oils, gouaches, collages, and trouvailles of artist Gavin Limbert, who was once lately chanced on shot, below very suspicious conditions. As assistant commissioner of police, Sir John is already , yet he turns into much more intrigued whilst Limbert's final masterpiece is stolen from the gallery below his very eyes.
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Additional resources for A Private View (Sir John Appleby, Book 13)
In my country, in Norway, we haff a custom. ’ But we don’t. ’” Shaking his jowls and lifting his head like Tarzan over a fresh kill, Captain Valvick here uttered the most extraordinary noise Morgan had ever heard. It cannot be reproduced into phonetic sounds, and so loses its beauty and poignancy. It was something like the noise of water running out of a bath-tub, but rising on a triumphant note like a battle-cry, and trembling on in shadings of defective drains and broken water-pipes; as though Mr.
Asked Morgan, who was surveying the litter in the cabin; and the other grinned sourly. “This, old son,” Warren told him, “is right in your line. Do you know if there are any international crooks on board? The Prince or Princess Somebody kind, who always hang out at Monte Carlo? Because an important State document has been pinched … No, I’m not kidding. I didn’t know I had the damned thing; never occurred to me; I thought it had been destroyed … I tell you I’m in bad trouble, and it’s not funny.
Morgan stared at it for some time before he realised that it was none other than a certain Great Personage, the most pompous starched-shirt of the Administration, the potent rain-maker and high priest of quackdoodle. His cheerful, soothing voice over the radio had inspired millions of Americans with dreams of a fresh, effulgent era of national prosperity in which there should be instalment plans without ever any payments demanded, and similar American conceptions of the millennium. His dignity, his scholarship, his courtly manners— 42 “Yes, you’re right,” Warren said wryly.