"Do you think it may have been fired from the gate, or a few feet beyond it?"
"Judging by the appearance of the wound, I should say it must have been from a little beyond the gate."
"I think so too," I said. "I think some one drove to the gate last night with a light buggy, and two small horses. He or they drove quite close to the fence and stopped the horses, so that they were hidden from the view of any one who was nearer the house. The buggy was directly before the gate and so close that it could not have been opened, as it swings outward. The horses were not tied, but they were doubtless well trained animals. A man jumped out of the buggy, and, standing beside it, on the side farthest from the gate, of course, leveled your gun across the vehicle and called aloud for the doctor. Bethel was alone, sitting in this chair by this table. His feet were on this footstool," touching each article as I named it. "He was smoking this pipe, and reading this book. The window was open, and the blinds only half closed. The man, who probably drove close to the fence for that purpose, could see him quite distinctly, and from his attitude and occupation knew him to be alone.
"When Bethel heard the call, he put down the book and pipe with cool deliberation, pushed back the footstool and opened the door, coming from the light to the darkness. At that moment he could see nothing, and leaving the door open he stepped outside, standing clearly outlined in the light from within. Then the assassin fired."
Jim Long came toward me, his eyes earnestly searching my face.
"In Heaven's name, what foundation have you for such a theory," he asked, slowly.
"Excellent foundation," I replied. "Let us demonstrate my theory."
Long glanced at his charge in the inner room, and then said, "go on."