“Occupation?”
“A butler, sor.”
“And have you lived long with Mr. and Mrs. Ogden, Charles?”
“Since October, sor.” Charles fumbled in one of his pockets and produced a number of soiled papers. “Here’s me references, sor.”
“Thanks, Charles, but I don’t require them,” said the coroner kindly.
Charles looked blank. “Sure, sor, I thought you was inquirin’ into me character, sor.”
“No, no, Charles; we just want you to tell us what you know about the fire at the Ogden’s last night.”
“The fire, is it?” Charles brightened. “Sure, I know nothin’ about it—never dhreamed of such an awful thing until I heard a voice call ‘Fire,’ and I bolted into the pantry to warn the other servants who were there and below stairs.”
“Which of the servants gave the warning of fire?”
“None of ’em, sor; they was all in the pantry or below stairs.”