The Portrait

Mrs. Judson then went over to clear the dishes off the table. Dawson's eyes wandered towards the fireplace on the other end of the room, over which hung the infamous Ratigan's portrait.

"Eh Basil!" Dr. Dawson exclaimed, having noticed that, for whatever reason, his friend did not seem to share his company's merriness. Basil sat in his armchair, hugging his knees to his chest, apathetically staring into the crackling fire. "Eh, Basil!" Dawson repeated, as Basil had not reacted to his previous interjection. "I say… if I may ask… I've been wondering, for some time now… Why do you actually keep that fiend's portrait? I may of course be mistaken, but it appears to me that you've been gazing at it for quite a while now… Unless you were only gazing into the flames…"

"Hm? What? Oh… Forgive me, Dawson… I suppose I'm just not the most sociable of mice… I only felt the need to retreat a little."

"Fair enough," Dawson said, a hint of concern in his expression, "But it's only the celebration of your greatest victory over the most depraved mind in all of London, as you referred to the villain yourself!"Basil smiled to himself for a second. "You look pensive, Basil. What's the matter? It is painfully obvious, at least to my eyes, that something is troubling your mind. It's that likeness, isn't it? It's got some demonic power, I would think, were I superstitious…"

Mrs. Judson and the Flavershams were now also aware that Basil had withdrawn for some time and stopped talking. At first, Basil didn't face the Doctor. Then he said, "Demonic power? What nonsense. It's merely a painting, a couple of brush strokes made on a small blank piece of canvas. Hardly likely for demons to channel their power into that... It's not the Picture of Florian Brown, Dawson. Have you read the novel, by the way? I haven't. No time to indulge in such fancies. Though admittedly, it does seem a compelling story." The room was quiet, save the crackling sound of the fire.

Dawson shook his head as an answer to Basil's random inquiry. "Why do you keep a likeness of a villain such as Professor Ratigan? Now that he's gone, it may be natural to dispose of it," he said.

After a few moments of silence, Basil moved his chair towards the others, put some fresh tobacco in his pipe, lit it, took a smoke and exhaled quite a large amount of it. "Very well, I shall reveal it to you, this 'mystery' of Ratigan's portrait… though it is an extremely long story – I emphasize, extremely long – but which I am certain you won't mind."

"By all means, no!" Dawson cried. "I would have supposed it must have a very solid reason."

"Alright. Mr. Flanger-Flaversham-", Basil corrected himself, "Miss Flaversham, Mrs. Judson. What you are about to hear I have never told anyone else before. But, Dawson is right, since you were all involved in the Ratigan case – and you, Mrs. Judson, as the one woman who knows me almost as well as my own mother did – you have a right to know about it."

The ears of his audience were perked up, waiting impatiently in suspense for Basil to disclose the secret of the portrait. Drawing a further puff of smoke, Basil continued, "Let me begin by saying that, though this will doubtlessly surprise you, Ratigan and I weren't always enemies."

As he had expected, his listeners were taken aback at this statement. "Unbelievable!" Dr. Dawson cried. "Oh, but it is worth believing, Dawson. …Where and how should I commence?" Basil thought about it for a moment, then continued, "I find it necessary to first tell you what circumstances led me to actually become what I am now. It all started with a chemistry book…"

His eyes wandered across the room, not focusing on anything tangible, as memories from the past began vividly returning to his mind, as though they had not been so long ago.