A Pall for a Painter (published 1936) begins with Richard Carling returning to his old art college 12 years after his father died and he had to drop out and go back to Australia to look after the ranch and support his mother and sister.
Nostalgic for the life he could have had – the smell of turpentine
and modelling classes, the quiet of the quad and welcome of old friends – and sensitive
to the atmosphere, it doesn’t take him long to detect an uncomfortable
undercurrent to the old place.
Is it because it’s an anachronism, no longer relevant in the
modern age, and its Masters frustrated by the fact? Is it the squabbling over
the young and lovely Antoinette (who is being stalked by the model, amongst
other things) or is it that Manette, that stately and impressive old man in
charge, son of the founder, has gone distinctly odd?
Before he can figure all this out - or even sort his own feelings for Antoinette out - a plaster cast of the Venus de Milo topples over on
someone’s head and the police are not satisfied that it is the accident it
first appears…
Favourite line: “We shall find ourselves up against the
dense stupidity of men who are besotted with the ‘Keep her name out of it’
complex.”
Favourite passing character: the carpenter chap who arrives
to rebuild the plinth, is one of the people to find the body, and tells them
the police won’t thank them for interfering with it.
Despite a slight disappointment over part of the solution (more
me than Lorac, I suspect), this one really worked for me. I wouldn’t be
surprised to see A Pall for a Painter in print again in the near future.
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