“Relate all that you know concerning that fire, if you please, Miss—I call you Miss, supposing you to be unmarried?”
Mary Monson merely made a slight inclination of her head, as one acknowledges that a remark is heard and understood. This did not more than half satisfy the coroner, his wife, for reasons of her own, having particularly desired him to ask the “Monson girl,” when she was put on the stand, whether she was or was not married. But it was too late, just then, to ascertain this interesting fact, and the examination proceeded.
“Relate all that you know concerning the fire, if you please, ma’am.”
“I know very little. I was awakened by a bright light—arose, and dressed myself as well as I could, and was about to descend the stairs, when I found I was too late. I then went to a window, and intended to throw my bed out, and let myself down on it, when two men appeared, and raised a ladder, by which I got safely out.”
“Were any of your effects saved?”
“All, I believe. The same two persons entered my room, and passed my trunks, box, and carpet-bag, writing-desk, and other articles, out of the room, as well as most of its furniture. It was the part of the building last on fire, and it was safe entering the room I occupied, for near half an hour after I escaped.”
“How long had you known the Goodwins?”
“From the time when I first came to live in their house.”
“Did you pass the evening of the night of the fire in their company?”
“I did not. Very little of my time was passed in their company, unless it was at meals.”