Miss Selwyn went into the gallery without another word, throwing the doors open wide. She trod at a bruising pace near to the other side of the room, and stood before one of the larger paintings in the collection, Miss Frostell trailing eagerly at her heels. ‘Here it is,’ she said. ‘It looks like nothing of note to me, but your Miss Frostell thinks otherwise.’
Gussie caught up, and stood in scrutiny. The painting was immense, daubed in oils upon a thick canvas, and bordered in a wrought golden monstrosity of a frame. Depicted within was a gentleman who had, by his attire, lived several centuries before. Nothing about the man himself interested Gussie very much; he was plain of feature, and well into his middle years, with thinning hair ill-disguised by a velvet cap. Nothing about him sugg
