Собака Баскервіллів
Fixing the Nets
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! "Icried,inamazement.
ThefaceofStapletonhadsprungoutofthecanvas.
"Ha,youseeitnow. Myeyeshavebeentrainedtoexaminefacesandnottheirtrimmings. Itisthefirstqualityofacriminalinvestigatorthatheshouldseethroughadisguise."
"Butthisismarvellous. Itmightbehisportrait."
