and the roll of paper is Sir William
Baskerville, who was Chairman of Committees of the House of Commons
under Pitt."

"And this Cavalier opposite to me--the one with the black velvet and the
lace?"

"Ah, you have a right to know about him. That is the cause of all the
mischief, the wicked Hugo, who started the Hound of the Baskervilles.
We're not likely to forget him."

I gazed with interest and some surprise upon the portrait.

"Dear me!" said Holmes, "he seems a quiet, meek-mannered man enough, but
I dare say that there was a lurking devil in his eyes. I had pictured
him as a more robust and ruffianly person."

"There's no doubt about the authenticity, for the name and the date,
1647, are on the back of the canvas."

Holmes said little more, but the picture of the old roysterer seemed to
have a fascination for him, and his eyes were continually fixed upon it
during supper. It was not until later, when Sir Henry had gone to his
room, that I was able to follow the trend of his thoughts. He led me
back into the banqueting-hall, his bedroom candle in his hand, and he
held it up against the time-stained portrait on the wall.

"Do you see anything there?"

I looked at the broad plumed hat, the curling love-locks, the white lace
collar, and the straight, severe face which was framed between them. It
was not a brutal countenance, but it was prim, hard, and stern, with a
firm-set, thin-lipped mouth, and a coldly intolerant eye.

"Is it like anyone you know?"

"There is something of Sir Henry about the jaw."

"Just a suggestion, perhaps. But wait an instant!" He stood upon a
chair, and, holding up the light in his left hand, he curved his right
arm over the broad hat and round the long ringlets.

"Good heavens!" I cried in amazement.

The face of Stapleton had sprung out of the canvas.

"Ha, you see it now. My eyes have been trained to examine faces and not
their trimmings. It is the first quality of a criminal investigator that
he should see through a disguise."

"But this is marvellous. It might be his portrait."

"Yes, it is an interesting instance of a throwback, which appears to be
both physical and spiritual. A study of family portraits is enough
to convert a man to the doctrine of reincarnation. The fellow is a
Baskerville--that is evident."

"With designs upon the succession."

"Exactly. This chance of the picture has supplied us with one of our
most obvious missing links. We have him, Watson, we