“Did you keep her in sight?”
“No; I was so excited myself, I ran past her and out to the garage.”
“Who was there?”
“Mr. Allen and Mr. Keefe and the two chauffeurs and the head gardener and well, most all the servants. The men were fighting the fire, and the women were standing back, looking on.”
“Yelling, I suppose.”
“No; they were mostly quiet. Cook was screaming, but nobody paid any attention to her.”
“The fire was soon over?”
“Yes, it was a little one. I suppose that chauffeur of Mr. Appleby’s dropped a match or something—for our servants are too well trained to do anything of the sort. We’re all afraid of fire.”
“Well, the fire amounted to little, as you say. Curious it should occur at the time of the murder.”
“Curious, indeed, sir. Do you make anything out of that?”