Chapter 13. Fixing the Nets

ell,I’mgladtohearyousayso,”saidSirHenry,glancingwithsomesurpriseatmyfriend.“Idon’tpretendtoknowmuchaboutthesethings,andI’dbeabetterjudgeofahorseorasteerthanofapicture.Ididn’tknowthatyoufoundtimeforsuchthings.” “IknowwhatisgoodwhenIseeit,andIseeitnow.That’saKneller,I’llswear,thatladyinthebluesilkoveryonder,andthestoutgentlemanwiththewigoughttobeaReynolds.Theyareallfamilyportraits,Ipresume?” “Everyone.” “Doyouknowthenames?” “Barrymorehasbeencoachingmeinthem,andIthinkIcansaymylessonsfairlywell.” “Whoisthegentlemanwiththetelescope?” “ThatisRear-AdmiralBaskerville,whoservedunderRodneyintheWestIndies.ThemanwiththebluecoatandtherollofpaperisSirWilliamBaskerville,whowasChairmanofCommitteesoftheHouseofCommonsunderPitt.” “AndthisCavalieroppositetome—theonewiththeblackvelvetandthelace?” “Ah,youhavearighttoknowabouthim.Thatisthecauseofallthemischief,thewickedHugo,whostartedtheHoundoftheBaskervilles.We’renotlikelytoforgethim.” Igazedwithinterestandsomesurpriseupontheportrait. “Dearme!”saidHolmes,“heseemsaquiet,meek-manneredmanenough,butIdaresaythattherewasalurkingdevilinhiseyes.Ihadpicturedhimasamorerobustandruffianlyperson.” “There’snodoubtabouttheauthenticity,forthenameandthedate,1647,areonthebackofthecanvas.” Holmessaidlittlemore,butthepictureoftheoldroystererseemedtohaveafascinationforhim,andhiseyeswerecontinuallyfixeduponitduringsupper.Itwasnotuntillater,whenSirHenryhadgonetohisroom,thatIwasabletofollowthetrendofhisthoughts.Heledmebackintothebanqueting-hall,hisbedroomcandleinhishand,andhehelditupagainstthetime-stainedportraitonthewall. “Doyouseeanythingthere?” Ilookedatthebroadplumedhat,thecurlinglove-locks,thewhitelacecollar,andthestraight,severefacewhichwasframedbetweenthem.Itwasnotabrutalcountenance,butitwasprim,hard,andstern,withafirm-set,thin-lippedmouth,andacoldlyintoleranteye. “Isitlikeanyoneyouknow?” “ThereissomethingofSirHenryaboutthejaw.” “Justasuggestion,perhaps.Butwaitaninstant!”Hestooduponachair,and,holdingupthelightinhislefthand,hecurvedhisrightarmoverthebroadhatandroundthelongringlets. “Goodheavens!”Icriedinamazement. ThefaceofStapletonhadsprungoutofthecanvas. “Ha,youseeitnow.Myeyeshavebeentrainedtoexaminefacesandnottheirtrimmings.Itisthefirstqualityofacriminalinvestigatorthatheshouldseethroughadisguise.” “Butthisismarvellous.Itmightbehisportrait.” “Yes,itisaninterestinginstanceofathrowback,whichappearstobebothphysicalandspiritual.Astudyoffamilyportraitsisenoughtoconvertamantothedoctrineofreincarnation.ThefellowisaBaskerville—thatisevident.” “Withdesignsuponthesuccession.” “Exactly.Thischanceofthepicturehassupplieduswithoneofourmostobviousmissinglinks.Wehavehim,Watson,wehavehim,andIdareswearthatbeforetomorrownighthewillbeflutteringinournetashelplessasoneofhisownbutterflies.Apin,acork,andacard,andweaddhimtotheBakerStreetcollection!”Heburstintooneofhisrarefitsoflaughterasheturnedawayfromthepicture.Ihavenotheardhimlaughoften,andithasalwaysbodedilltosomebody. Iwasupbetimesinthemorning,butHolmeswasafootearlierstill,forIsawhimasIdressed,comin