leonardo da vinci last supper painting

leonardo da vinci last supper painting
leonardo da vinci mona lisa
leonardo da vinci painting
leonardo da vinci the last supper
What can I do for you, Inspector?"
"This letter…” Craddock pushed Martine's letter across the table. Mr. Wimborne touched it with a distasteful finger but did not pick it up. His colour rose very slightly and his lips tightened.
"Quite so," he said; “quite so! I received a letter from Miss Emma Crackenthorpe yesterday morning, informing me of her visit to Scotland Yard and of - ah – all the circumstances. I may say that I am at a loss to understand – quite at a loss - why I was not consulted about this letter at the time of its arrival! Most extraordinary! I should have been informed immediately…."
oil painting
　Inspector Craddock repeated soothingly such platitudes as seemed best calculated to reduce Mr. Wimborne to an amenable from of find.
"I'd no idea that there was ever any question of Edmund's having married," said Mr. Wimborne in an injured voice.
Inspector Craddock said that he supposed – in war time - and left it to trail away vaguely.
"War time!" snapped Mr. Wimborne with waspish acerbity. "Yes, indeed, we were in Lincoln's Inn Fields at the outbreak of war and there was a direct hit on the house next door, and a great number of our records were destroyed. Not the really important documents, of course; they had been removed to the country of safety. But it caused a great deal of confusion. Of course, the Crackenthorpe business was in my father's hands at that time. He died six years ago. I dare say he may have