After the Exhibition: A Jack Haldean 1920s Mystery (A Jack Haldean Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

Hello! I think your admirer’s turned up again.’
    With a sinking feeling, Jack turned to see Mr Lythewell bustling towards them, with Henry Cadwallader bringing up the rear.
    ‘Major Haldean?’ asked Mr Lythewell. ‘Could I ask you to spare us a few moments, sir? I wonder if you’d be kind enough to speak to Miss Winterbourne. She’s interested in Mr Cadwallader’s work.’ He laughed self-consciously and added, in a murmur, ‘Excellent chap, Cadwallader, excellent, but he’s a little bit of a rough diamond, perhaps. As someone who truly appreciates Mr Cadwallader’s paintings, Mr Cadwallader thinks you are the ideal person to point out the merits of his work to her.’
    ‘Be a sport, Haldean,’ murmured Colin Askern. ‘Talk him up. We need the commission.’
    There was nothing else for it. ‘Of course, Mr Lythewell,’ said Jack, lying manfully. ‘I’d be delighted.’
    It was about ten to one when Bill found Jack in the hall, smoking a cigarette. ‘So there you are. D’you fancy a spot of lunch?’ He glanced at the rapidly thinning crowd. ‘It’s about time we pushed off.’
    Jack held up his hand for silence. ‘Peace, friend. All I need is this cigarette and a complete absence of Henry Cadwallader.’
    Bill laughed. ‘C’mon. It couldn’t have been as bad as all that.’
    Jack’s eyes gleamed dangerously. ‘Not as bad? It was far, far worse than bad. If you think my idea of a dream morning is one spent praising the merits of a short, whiskery, outdated artist – against all my better judgements, let me tell you – to the headmistress of a girls’ school, think again.’
    ‘Relax. What else were you going to do this morning?’
    ‘I could’ve spent it talking to that corking girl, for a start.’
    ‘Miss Wingate? That short, freckly girl, you mean? She was a bit of a pipsqueak, but she seemed nice enough.’
    ‘She seemed exactly the right sort of height to me. A morning spent talking to her would’ve been a very pleasant use of my time. Let me tell you, the only thing – the
only
thing, mark you – that’s kept me going is the thought that I promised the flag-seller you’d be here at one o’clock.’
    Bill raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You’re not going to hold me to that, are you?’
    ‘Just watch me,’ said Jack with feeling.
    ‘Oh, all right,’ agreed Bill. ‘I’ll brass up, if you’re going to make such a song and dance about it. How much did you say I’d give this wretched woman?’
    ‘I promised her ten bob, but call it a straight quid and I’ll consider us quits.’
    ‘God strewth! You must think I’ve got money to burn.’ He saw Jack’s expression and held up a placatory hand. ‘Okay, I’ll do it. I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t.’
    They got their coats and hats from the cloakroom and made their way outside.
    At the bottom of the steps Mr Askern and Mr Lythewell, together with Henry Cadwallader as a silent third, were holding an impromptu inquest on the exhibition whilst waiting for a taxi. Betty Wingate was chatting to Colin.
    ‘I have great hopes of Miss Winterbourne, Askern,’ said Mr Lythewell in a satisfied way. ‘She showed great appreciation of Cadwallader’s work,’ he added, as if Henry Cadwallader were miles away and not standing right beside him. ‘Cadwallader definitely appeals to more traditional tastes.’
    ‘We could certainly do with another commission,’ agreed Mr Askern. ‘Yet despite the interest Miss Winterbourne showed, I’m beginning to wonder if Colin has a point in advocating spreading our net wider and perhaps introducing a more modern element into our work. Some of the work on display today incorporated modern ideas.’
    ‘I’m open to any idea that can be shown to be commercially sound, Askern, but …’
    Mr Lythewell and Mr Askern plunged into a discussion of art and business.
    Bill drew Colin Askern to one side. ‘Thanks for inviting us, old man,’ he said breezily. ‘We both thoroughly