DEATH IN THE MOUNTAINS

While hunting in the Adirondacks, Fordney was informed of a tragedy at one of the camps. Thinking he might be of some help, he went over and introduced himself and was told of the accident by Wylie, the victim’s companion.

“When Moore hadn’t returned to camp at nine o’clock last night, I was a bit worried, because he didn’t know these mountains. There wasn’t a star out and it was dark and moonless, so I decided to look around for him. We’re five miles from anyone, you know.

“Putting more wood on the fire, I set out. After searching for an hour I was coming up the slope of a ravine when I saw a pair of eyes shining at me.

“Calling twice, and getting no answer, I fired, thinking it was a mountain lion. Imagine my horror when I reached the spot, struck a match, and saw I had nearly blown off Moore’s head. A terrible experience!

“I carried him back to camp and then walked to the nearest house to report the accident.”

“How far from camp did you find him?”

“About a quarter of a mile.”

“How did you manage to shoot with your right hand bandaged?”

“Oh—I use either hand.”

“Mind if I look at the gun?”

“Not at all.” Wylie handed it over.

“H’mmmm. European make. Had it long?”

“No. It’s rather new.”

“Why did you deliberately murder Moore?” Fordney abruptly demanded. “For that’s what you did!”

How did he know? Turn page for solution.