“We’re closing in,” said Fay as he brought a sheet of paper from his side pocket and spread it out on the palm of his right hand. “I did a lot of phoning. There’s nothing new at Poughkeepsie--except that the train upon which Stephney’s body was found was made up on Tenth Avenue, New York.” “That’s Death Avenue!” “It’s well named. It left at seven o’clock. It passed the Harlem River at eight-sixteen. It reached Harmon at nine-three. It rolled into Poughkeepsie early in the morning and was shunted on a sidetrack. The railroad detectives searched it carefully while looking for tramps. It was then they found the body.” 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?” “Joe Yeader will play that part to perfection. Remember his accent? He did time in Brixton Jail.” “I don’t get it all,” blurted Rake. “What is coming off?” * * * * * Fay furrowed his brow and stared seriously toward the paper in his hand. He thrust it into his pocket. “I’ll explain later,” he said. “We’re going right into the lion’s den. We’ll bait the trap with more banknotes. We’ve got to clear the name of the Gray Brotherhood and the ex-inmates working for the Gray Taxi Company.” “Do you suspect that girl?” “I have every reason to believe she is guilty.” “She don’t look the part.” “Looks and beauty are skin deep!” “She didn’t talk like a gun moll or a fallen sister.” “She’s employed by a man who is suspected by the police and Mr. Mott. She has sole charge of Ponsardin’s taxicab interests. She was the first to meet Stephney on this side of the Atlantic. She was the last to see him alive, according to her own admission. What would you think from all that?” “I think a lot, Chester. But appearances are deceiving. She’d never admitted takin’ that Stephney from the dock if she was guilty. She’d of denied it. The only time my Mary, at home, is lyin’ to me is when she says nothing.”