The three men, looking at one another—Dr. Lambert's glance coming over the bowed head of Viola—said nothing for a few moments. Then as her sobs died away, and she became calmer, the old physician said:
“You must not take on so, Vi. I know it is hard, but you must meet the issue squarely. At the same time you must realize that even the most suspicious circumstances may be explained away. While it does look as though your father had deliberately taken the poison, it may easily be established by an investigation that it was an accident—an accident of which even your father was ignorant.”
“There are so many poisons that do not manifest themselves for a long time—often days—after they are taken, that there is every chance of proving this to have been an accident.”
“Then there must be an investigation!” was Viola's quick decision. There were still tears in her eyes, but she looked through them now, as through a veil that must be torn aside. “I can not believe that my father was a—a suicide—” she halted at the awful word. “I will not believe it!” she went on more firmly. “It can not be true!”
Hardly had she uttered the last word than a figure passed through the hall, flitting past the half-opened door of the little room where Viola stood with the three men.
“Who is there?” she called sharply, for she had spoken rather loudly, and she did not want any of the servants to hear. “Who is there?”
“It is I—Minnie,” was the answer. “Dear Viola, I have come to see if I could do anything. I rang and rang, but no one answered the bell, and, as the door was open, I walked in.”
“I'm afraid I didn't close it when I let you in,” said Captain Poland to Dr. Lambert.
“Dear Viola!” said Minnie Webb, as she placed cheek against that of her friend. “Is there anything I can do in your terrible trouble? Please let me do something!”
“Thank you, Minnie. You are very kind. I don't know. We are in such distress. Tell me—” and Viola seemed to nerve herself for some effort. “Tell me! Did you hear what I said just now—as you passed the door?”