"Strange," he muttered to himself after a few moments, "very strange. Tell me, Joe"--his voice was normal again--"exactly how did you find him? What position was he in?" "He was half sitting on the fire step; with his head in the corner and his legs sprawling in the bottom of the trench." "Sitting? Then his face was towards you." "Why, yes. Is there anything peculiar in the fact? He'd probably just been having a look over the top, and as he turned away to get down he was hit through the sandbags in the back of the neck. His head was a bit forward as he was getting down, so the bullet passed through his head and out of his forehead." In silence they turned the boy over again and covered his face with a pocket-handkerchief. "You're too much of a blooming detective, you know, old man. Much police work has made thee mad," laughed the Company Commander. "What else can have happened?" "I'm no detective, Joe." The other man smiled slightly. "But there are one or two small points of detail which strike me, though I can make nothing out of them, I admit. First--his height. He's six inches shorter than you, and yet you could barely see over the top. Therefore, what was he doing trying to look over the parapet here of all places? Secondly, the way he fell. A man killed instantaneously, and shot through the back of his head, would in all probability pitch forward on his face. You say his face was towards you, and that he was sitting in the corner of the traverse." He paused to fill his pipe. "Go on," said the Company Commander curiously. "You interest me." "The third point is one on which I admit that I am doubtful. The bullet wound is clean. Now I am inclined to think--though I don't know--that a bullet passing through a chalk bag would become jagged, and would not be travelling straight when it continued its flight. However, I don't attach much importance to that. And the fourth and last point is almost too trifling to mention. Do you notice anything peculiar about his uniform?" The listener flashed his torch over the dead officer, "No," he said at length. "I can't say that I do. Except that one of his regimental badges is missing. I suppose you don't mean that, do you?" The Company Officer laughed irritably. "I do," returned the other quietly. "It's a point of detail, even if a little one." He looked thoughtfully at the man in front of him. "Do I strike you as a callous sort of devil, old man?" "You seem to be treating the boy rather on the line of a specimen for improving your deductive powers." "Perhaps you're right." Staunton turned away. "But I didn't mean it that way--quite. Sorry, Joe; the boy was a pal of yours?" "He was." "God rest his soul!" The second-in-command spoke low. Then, with a final salute to the youngster whose soul had gone to the haven of fighting men, he turned away and vanished into the night. * * * * * *