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The young blonde housemaid, who sat beside him, said, “Sarah McGuire, sir. Housemaid.”

A stiff-spined, red-haired woman next to her, who looked to be a few years older said, “Isobel Keane. I serve as housemaid and lady’s maid.”

“And you?” Gideon asked a broad-shouldered, bronze-haired man, who looked a bit older and more well-dressed than the footman.

“Nicolas Teague, Inspector. I am Mr. Pennington’s valet.”

“Is there anyone not present who is employed as part of the household staff?”

“There is Silas Jones, Inspector. He serves as groom and coachman. And Mrs. Potter, the cook.”

“Did Mr. Pennington employ his carriage today at all?”

Mrs. Coyle cleared her throat. “Mr. Pennington took his carriage into town as he does most days, but he does not ask Silas to wait for him. He brings the carriage home, and the master hires a hansom to deliver him back to Mount Street most evenings.”

Gideon noted the details and nodded. “And you said there are two other family members who reside here?”

Burton said, “Aside from Mr. Pennington, his niece, Miss Lucy Faraday, has lived here for almost two years. And occasionally, Mr. Lancelot Pennington, Mr. Pennington’s younger brother, returns to the house.”

“Does he reside here currently?”

Mrs. Coyle looked momentarily flustered and finally said, “Not in the last fortnight, no, but he has a room set aside for him that the master insisted should be maintained and tidied for his use whenever he chooses.”

“And where can he be found when he is not at Mount Street?”

“He has lodgings elsewhere,” Mr. Burton explained. “In Soho.”

“I’ll need that address.”

“Of course, Inspector.” Burton nodded.

Gideon scanned the assembled servants. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Percival Pennington?” he asked, his gaze landing on the footman.

“That would have been this morning, sir. He took his breakfast as usual here in the dining room with Miss Faraday. Then he went to his study for a while and departed for the day at around ten.”

“And you assisted him to dress, I assume?” Gideon asked the valet, Mr. Teague.

“I did, sir. He woke at his usual time, around half eight. I assisted him to dress and then, as mentioned, I believe he took breakfast with Miss Faraday.”

“When would he normally return home?”

Mrs. Coyle shifted in her chair. “It varied, Inspector. As late as midnight. If he had a soiree or dinner to attend, he might return even later. If he wished to dine at home, he would return earlier.”

“And do you know his intention this evening? Did he have an event to attend, or did he plan to dine at home?”

Mrs. Coyle shook her head before he’d even gotten the question out. “He made no mention of his intentions.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gideon heard a little gasp and noticed the blonde maid reacting to what Mrs. Coyle said. He turned to the young woman.

“Miss McGuire, do you have something to add?”

The girl’s already flushed cheeks flamed to crimson, and she looked as if she might burst into tears.

“Go on,” Mr. Burton urged. “Whatever it is, girl, you must tell the inspector.”

That drew a reaction from Mrs. Coyle, who glared at her counterpart.

“I overheard something,” Sarah McGuire said softly, then looked up at Mrs. Coyle, as if seeking permission.