A hat was in the path beyond, where it had fallen, and a revolver lay glittering in the sunlight a few feet away.
There was nothing familiar about either figure or clothing, yet unquestionably there lay the body of a suicide.

The single shot they had heard, the tell-tale revolver close to the dead man's hand, were clear evidence of what had occurred.
The unexpectedness of this discovery, the peculiar position of the dead man, the loneliness of that deserted field in which he lay, shocked West and, for a moment left him strangely hesitant.

Who was the man?
What could have led up to the pitiful tragedy?
Yet he advanced step by step nearer to the hideous object in the path.

The man had been shot directly behind the right ear, killed instantly, no doubt, as the deadly bullet crashed through the brain.

West lifted the arm which concealed the face, already shrinking from the suspicion, which had begun to assail him.