The face, white and waxen in death, bore a hard, terrible look in the eyes, an expression that caused me to shudder. It was the look of one who shrank in awe and horror from the great Unknown. His clothes, a suit of rough, cheap dark tweed, the vest of which bore a large dark stain, showed evidence of hard wear, frayed at the elbows and cuffs, his linen was not over clean, and his boots bore traces of long tramping. His cloth golf-cap had fallen off, and lay near, disclosing that his close-cropped dark hair was somewhat curly, while his face was clean-shaven, and around his collar was a dark blue cravat tied in a bow. "I wonder who he is?" remarked Booth, as he bent down, and, opening his vest, disclosed the small shot-wound. "I wonder," I echoed, at the same time feeling in my pocket the papers and other objects which no doubt would establish his identity. I longed to return to the house and examine them. "Shot clean through the heart!" exclaimed Richards, kneeling upon the carpet of dead leaves and making as thorough an examination as the fickle light afforded. "He must have fallen and died almost instantly." "Could it have been suicide?" inquired Booth. "I think not. Of course, he might have shot himself, but from the position of the wound I think not. Besides, where is the revolver?" We looked about, but could not discover it, and at the same time Booth constantly urged upon us not to move about lest we might destroy any footmarks that would lead to a clue. While Booth was searching the dead man's pockets of course finding nothing, Eric noticed a light approaching up the road, and pointed it out. "That's the gov'nor on 'is bike," declared the constable. "I left word with my missis to send 'im up 'ere. I'm glad 'e's come." We awaited the arrival of the superintendent, a short, elderly, thick-set man in a dark suit, who spoke sharply to his officer, listened to the doctor's opinion, and then proceeded to make a methodical examination for himself. He held the lantern to the dead man's face, and looked for some moments into his features. "No. He's a perfect stranger to me," the officer declared. "Was there nothing in his pockets?" "Only some money, sir--a shillin' or two," answered the village policeman. "On tramp, no doubt," and he examined the palms of both hands, feeling them with his fingers. "Not used to hard work--clean-shaven, too--done it to disguise himself probably. No razor?" "No, sir." "Found the revolver?" "No, sir." "Not searched yet, I suppose?" "No, sir. I waited until you came, to hear your instructions." "Quite right. You'd better move him down to the village, and when it's light we'll search all around." Then, turning to Richards, he added, "There'll have to be an inquest, doctor. Shall we fix it for the day after to-morrow, at the Spread Eagle at Midhurst? Will that suit you?" "Yes. I can make the post-mortem to-morrow," Richards said, and thus it was arranged.