“Couldn’t you smell smoke in your pantry, Charles?”
“No, sor,” and seeing the coroner’s dubious expression, the butler added hastily, “Sure, our cook had burned the cream sauce, and the smell of that just filled the pantry.”
“How many servants, besides yourself, does Mr. Ogden employ?”
“The cook, the chambermaid, Mrs. Ogden’s maid, the parlor maid, the furnace man, and meself,” Charles checked them off on his fingers. “But Mrs. Ogden fired the parlor maid, Rose, yesterday mornin,’ and there was three extra help for the dinner, Emma, the crack cook, and the waiters from Rauscher’s. That’s all, sor.”
“I see.” The coroner laid the list of names on his desk. “Where do you keep the silver, Charles?”
“Down in the dining room in the daytime, but I takes it upstairs every night and puts it in the safe just at the end of the hall.” The butler paused and stared doubtfully at the jury, then coming to a sudden decision, he turned back to the coroner. “Sure, there was a burglar at the Ogdens’ the night before the fire.”
“A burglar?” The coroner’s interest quickened. “Did he steal anything?”
“No, sor; Mr. Julian Barclay scared him off before he had time to.”
“When did you last see Mr. Patterson alive, Charles?”
“Whin all the guests piled out of the dining room at the call of ‘Fire’.”