“Mention the names of your guests,” directed the coroner, and he glanced down a list, checking off each person as Ogden enumerated them. Then he examined a rough drawing of the Ogden house. “Why was it that you did not discover the fire until it had gained such headway?”
“Because the folding doors leading into the hall and also into the drawing room, were closed.”
“Would you have detected the fire more quickly if the doors had been open?”
“I think so; the smell of smoke would have warned us.”
“Is it your custom to keep the folding doors closed while you are in the dining room?”
“No, it is not.”
“Could they have been closed without your knowledge, Mr. Ogden?”
Ogden pondered before answering. “I believe so; heavy portières were pulled across the doorways, and under cover of the noise occasioned by our talking and the rattle of dishes, the folding doors could have been pushed together without attracting my attention, or being seen by others. But I cannot imagine why a servant should do it, unless a guest complained of being cold.”
“With the portières drawn?”
“Yes. There might be draughts even then, and ladies in evening dress are sometimes sensitive to cold.” Ogden’s voice was dry, and Penfield frowned.