Rake eyed the sheet of paper.
“Did O’Toole get all that?” he asked.
“Yes. He saw the coroner and the Army surgeon. Stephney was suffocated and completely out of this life when his body was dropped on top of the train. That must have been from some small bridge leading over the tracks to the Hudson River. It was either to a boathouse or a private estate.”
“Go on,” said Rake.
“Hilton—Sir Arthur—tells me that two members of the same banking firm, coming over on the Imparada, have considerable money with them. This Commission, of which Stephney was a member, came on different steamers on account of a secret matter pertaining to pending treaties. These two members will dock sometime tonight.”
“At the same pier, Chester?”
“At the Southampton Pier.”
“That looks like business. We’ll be there, eh?”
“Right there! We’ll meet the bankers at Quarantine, substitute ourselves for them, and land, all regular and proper, at the Southampton dock. I notified Harrigan, at Mr. Mott’s office, to get our outfits. They’ll be waiting for us with a valet at the Battery. We will have a valet.”
“What, Chester?”