“We must face the facts, however unpleasant they are,” said Dr. Lambert, in a low voice. “We must recognize that this will be public talk in a little while. A man—so well-known a character as was my old friend Horace Carwell—can not die suddenly in the midst of a championship golf game, and let the matter rest there.”
“The papers will take it up,” said Dr. Baird.
“The papers!” broke in Viola.
“Yes, even now I have been besieged by reporters demanding to know the cause of death. It will have to come out. The report of the county physician, on which only a burial certificate can be obtained, is public property. The bureau of vital statistics is open to the public and the reporters. There is bound to be an inquiry, and, as I have said, Dr. Rowland has already announced it as a suicide. We must face the issue bravely.”
“But even if it should prove true, that he took the poison, I am sure it will turn out to be a mistake!” declared Viola. “As for my father's affairs being in danger financially—Aunt Mary, did you ever hear of such a thing?”
“Well, my dear, your father kept his affairs pretty much to himself,” was the answer of her aunt. “He did tell me some things, and only to-day something came up that makes me think—Oh, I don't know what to think—now!”
“What is it?” asked Dr. Lambert, quietly but firmly. “It is best to know the worst at once.”
“I can't say that it is the 'worst,'” replied Miss Carwell; “but there was something about a loan to the bank, and not enough collateral to cover—Mr. Blossom should have attended to it, but he did not, it seems, and—Won't you tell them?” she appealed to Captain Poland.
“Certainly,” he responded. “It is a simple matter,” he went on. “Mr. Carwell, as all of us do at times, borrowed money from his bank, giving certain securities as collateral for the loan.
“The bank, as all banks do, kept watch on this security, and when it fell in market value below a certain point, where there was no longer sufficient margin to cover the loan safely, demanded more collateral.