Behind these people, the ones most nearly interested in the procedure, were gathered the several servants of the house. Lambert, the butler, was first interviewed. The man was a somewhat pompous, middle-aged Englishman, and though of stolid appearance, his face showed what might perhaps be described as an intelligent stupidity. After a few formal questions as to his position in the household, the coroner asked him to tell his own story of the early morning. In a more clear and concise way than I should have thought the man capable of, he detailed his discovery of his master's body. “I came down-stairs at seven this morning,” he said, “as I always do. I opened the house, I saw the cook a few moments about matters pertaining to breakfast, and I attended to my usual duties. At about half-past seven I went to Mr. Crawford's office, to set it in order for the day, and as I opened the door I saw him sitting in his chair. At first I thought he'd dropped asleep there, and been there all night, then in a moment I saw what had happened.” “Well, what did you do next?” asked the coroner, as the man paused. “I went in search of Louis, Mr. Crawford's valet. He was just coming down the stairs. He looked surprised, for he said Mr. Crawford was not in his room, and his bed hadn't been slept in.” “Did he seem alarmed?” “No, sir. Not knowing what I knew, he didn't seemed alarmed. But he seemed agitated, for of course it was most unusual not finding Mr. Crawford in his own room.” “How did Louis show his agitation?” broke in Mr. Orville. “Well, sir, perhaps he wasn't to say agitated,--he looked more blank, yes, as you might say, blank.” “Was he trembling?” persisted Mr. Orville, “was he pale?” and the coroner frowned slightly at this juror's repeated inquisitiveness. “Louis is always pale,” returned the butler, seeming to make an effort to speak the exact truth. “Then of course you couldn't judge of his knowledge of the matter,” Mr. Orville said, with an air of one saying something of importance. “He had no knowledge of the matter, if you mean Mr. Crawford's death,” said Lambert, looking disturbed and a little bewildered. “Tell your own story, Lambert,” said Coroner Monroe, rather crisply. “We'll hear what Louis has to say later.” “Well, sir, then I took Louis to the office, and we both saw the--the accident, and we wondered what to do. I was for telephoning right off to Doctor Fairchild, but Louis said first we'd better tell Miss Florence about it.” “And did you?” “We went out in the hall, and just then Elsa, Miss Lloyd's maid, was on the stairs. So we told her, and told her to tell Miss Lloyd, and ask her for orders. Well, her orders was for us to call up Doctor Fairchild, and so we did. He came as soon as he could, and he's been in charge ever since, sir.”