“Yet he seemed all right except for a little pardonable exhilaration during the game of golf,” remarked Captain Poland. “He was feeling 'pretty good' as we say. I don't see how he could have taken poison knowingly or unknowingly.”
“There are some poisons which, taken in combination, might mix and form a comparatively harmless mixture,” said Dr. Lambert. “Though I confess this is a very remote possibility. Some poisons are neutralized by an alcoholic condition. And some persons, who may have been habitual users of a drug, may take a dose of it that would kill several persons not so addicted.”
“Do you mean that Mr. Carwell was a drug user?” demanded the captain.
“I would hesitate very long before saying so,” answered Dr. Lambert, “and I have known him many years.”
“Then what was it? What in the world does it all mean?” asked Captain Poland. “What's the answers in other words?”
“I wish I knew,” replied Dr. Lambert, and he shook his head. Something more than the weight of years seemed bowing him down. Dr. Baird seemed duly impressed by the circumstances that had brought him—a young and as yet unestablished physician—to a connection with such a startling case in the well known and wealthy Carwell family.
As for Captain Gerry Poland, he was clearly startled by the news the physicians had brought. He looked toward the closed door as though seeking to see beyond it—into the room where Viola was waiting. To her, sooner or later, the tragic verdict must be told.
“Can't you say anything?” he asked, a bit sharply, looking from one physician to the other “Is this all you came to tell—that Mr. Carwell was a suicide? Isn't there any mitigating circumstance?”
“I believe he poisoned himself before he began his championship game,” said Dr. Baird, with startling frankness—almost brutal it seemed.
“But why should he do such a thing?” demanded the captain, rather petulantly.