professor's head?"

"I don't miss much, Mr. Holmes. Maybe I learned that from you.
Yes, I saw the picture--a young woman with her head on her hands,
peeping at you sideways."

"That painting was by Jean Baptiste Greuze."

The inspector endeavoured to look interested.

"Jean Baptiste Greuze," Holmes continued, joining his finger tips
and leaning well back in his chair, "was a French artist who
flourished between the years 1750 and 1800. I allude, of course
to his working career. Modern criticism has more than indorsed
the high opinion formed of him by his contemporaries."

The inspector's eyes grew abstracted. "Hadn't we better--" he
said.

"We are doing so," Holmes interrupted. "All that I am saying has
a very direct and vital bearing upon what you have called the
Birlstone Mystery. In fact, it may in a sense be called the very
centre of it."

MacDonald smiled feebly, and looked appealingly to me. "Your
thoughts move a bit too quick for me, Mr. Holmes. You leave out
a link or two, and I can't get over the gap. What in the whole
wide world can be the connection between this dead painting man
and the affair at Birlstone?"