West, now thoroughly puzzled, and already convinced that some mystery hovered over the place, began to circle through the untrampled clover, but without any defined purpose. All at once, at the lower end of the gully he came, unexpectedly, upon another trail, this one well marked, apparently frequently used, which led straight across the field, and terminated at a small gate leading through the wire fence. Evidently here was a short cut to the road, well known to the servants on the estate, and possibly others. The discovery, however, told nothing further than this, and contenting himself with another glance about the unchanged field of rustling clover, West proceeded along the course of the path, intending to thus rejoin the automobile, waiting his return behind the trees.
Within a few steps of the gate, which was closed, he came to a sudden, horrified pause, staring ahead at a strange something huddled in the path. It was a shapeless thing, bearing no resemblance to a human being, until he advanced closer; then he recognized the form of a man, curled up as a dog sleeps, face down hidden by his arm, and limbs drawn up, as if in a sudden spasm of agony. 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. Then he knew who the dead man was--Percival Coolidge.