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.