The morbid sense of humor was a pleasant surprise, and he chuckled, nodding, "Worst way to go's in a fire, I hear." And boy, did he hear it. A lot. And often as he spoke to Mrs. Lovett.
"Yes, originally. Different time. I died in 1843. Work related accident." He said with a wry smile. "My apprentice decided he'd rather see my throat slit than deal with me any longer. Came here a few days ago myself, though I don't remember the Vortex, I'm sure it was that."