Dead Beside The Thames (Casebook of Barnaby Adair #7)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

A t much the same time that Claudia’s coach left the curb in Duke Street, Barnaby was making his way along the north bank of the Thames. He’d found the police wagon on Narrow Street and, assuming that Stokes had elected to start his search around the Duke Stairs—according to the River Police, the most easterly point from which Sedbury’s body might have entered the water—had descended from the hackney, told the jarvey to wait, and set off, walking eastward on the path beside the stone embankment.

The weather was gloomy, the sky overcast and gray, and the breeze off the water carried a damp chill. The slap of waves against the stone edging the bank was a counterpoint to Barnaby’s footsteps as he strode along the narrow path between the buildings and the river.

He found Stokes, as gloomy as the day, watching his men as they canvassed the area, asking literally everyone they could find if they’d been in the vicinity on Saturday night and, if so, what they recalled and whether they’d noticed anything untoward.

Barnaby spotted another group of constables carefully examining the stone embankment and the adjacent area, presumably searching for any sign of a recent struggle.

He halted beside Stokes, who stood with his hands sunk in his greatcoat pockets and his shoulders slightly hunched against the breeze. “Anything yet?” Barnaby asked.

Stokes grunted and looked to where a young constable was interviewing a brawny stevedore. “In this area, people have very short memories.” He swung his gaze to the searchers combing the embankment itself. “That said, I’m fairly certain we haven’t missed anything from the Duke Stairs to this point. We actually started a little farther east, at the entrance to Limehouse Dock. I spoke to the River Police again, and they swear that, given the relevant tides, Sedbury’s body couldn’t have been put into the river farther east than that.”

Barnaby nodded. “Being thorough might be slow, but you can’t afford to miss the spot.”

“And sadly, given we’re working westward into the heart of the docks, our progress is only going to get slower.” Stokes sighed. “I wish there was some faster way to find the site, but if there is, I can’t think of it.”

“Neither Penelope nor I can, either.”

“At least with Sedbury hailing from a noble house, the commissioner has all but given me carte blanche with respect to calling in extra men. I’ve already taken advantage of that, but even if I had yet more men, I don’t think we could go much faster. We still have to wait for people to appear before we can question them.”

Barnaby pulled a face. “Frustratingly slow it might be, but at this point, steady and certain is what we need. Speed would be nice, but we can’t risk missing the site. Knowing where it is and what we can deduce from that is likely to prove crucial.”

“I’m not looking forward to explaining our progress to the marquess.”

“As I recall,” Barnaby said, “he’s not such a bad egg. I crossed paths with my father this morning, and he considers Rattenby a reasonable man.”

Stokes didn’t look convinced. “Until we know how he views the murder of his heir, I’m not sure we can predict how he’ll behave.” He turned to regard Barnaby. “How’s your lads’ network doing?”

Barnaby smiled with almost paternal pride. “They’ve found witnesses enough to exonerate Charlie, even without Garvey’s testimony. Not that we truly suspected Charlie, but still, it’s nice to have solid evidence to support our assertions.”

Stokes grunted in agreement.

“And,” Barnaby went on, “I’m delighted to report that they’ve picked up Sedbury’s trail. That’s what I came here to tell you. He left White’s and walked to Pall Mall, where he hailed a hackney and directed the jarvey to drive in this direction, meaning eastward. At present, the lads are working on locating the jarvey.”

“More power to them,” Stokes said. “Learning exactly where Sedbury went next—where he left the hackney—would be a boon.” His expression was approving as he looked at Barnaby. “That was an inspired notion of yours, to put all those idle eyes and brains to good use.”

Barnaby laughed. “You won’t be surprised to learn that it was Penelope who first thought of it. She came up with the notion out of her work finding jobs for the Foundling House graduates.”

Stokes fell silent for a moment, then said, “I should speak with her about recruiting some of her brighter lads into the force. We could do with more who have their roots in the areas we’re trying to police.”

Barnaby clapped him on the shoulder. “You should definitely mention that. I predict the patronesses will leap on the idea— it’s precisely the sort of employment that appeals to them, a job helping society, which, after all, is their founding principle.”

“Hmm. I will, then.” Stokes straightened as Constable Morgan approached.

The baby-faced Morgan looked abnormally serious as he snapped off a salute. “We’ve done with that street, guv. No news there, so we’re on to the next.”

Stokes nodded. “All we can do is keep at it.”

Morgan dipped his head to Barnaby, who he knew well, then turned and went back to the group of younger constables he was overseeing.

Stokes sighed. “As I said, this will take time. I just hope we learn something useful from the exercise.”

“We will.” Barnaby watched Morgan reassign the young constables. “I think that once we get some idea of why Sedbury was down here—or wherever it was that he went after leaving Pall Mall and that hackney—we’ll have a much better feeling for who might have killed him.”

“I certainly hope so,” Stokes replied. “If it transpires that he wasn’t killed elsewhere and his body carted down to the river, but was, indeed, killed around here, somewhere by the bank, that implies he came here of his own accord, and that widens the suspect list considerably.”

Barnaby grimaced. “True. However, given the victim is Sedbury, in terms of suspects, I greatly fear that we’re going to have far more than is helpful. Far more than we can manage.”

Stokes made a distinctly sour sound.

Barnaby glanced around. “Can you leave O’Donnell and Morgan in charge of the search?”

Stokes met his gaze. “Yes.”

“Good. Because we should head back to Albemarle Street. Penelope has information gleaned from her usual sources to impart, and Charlie might have news as well.”

Stokes readily gave his men orders to continue their endeavors until five o’clock, then he joined Barnaby, and they walked back to where Barnaby had left the hackney.

With Claudia beside him, her hand on his arm and Napier’s whip in her other hand, Charlie mentally girded his loins and knocked on the door of Napier House.

Napier’s butler opened the door, and Charlie promptly handed him a card. “Mr. Charlie Hastings and Lady Claudia Hale to see his lordship.”

The butler’s assessing gaze passed over them, then he bowed, stepped back, and waved them inside. “If you will wait in the drawing room, sir, my lady”—he gestured to a door on the left—“I will inform his lordship of your presence.”

“We would like just a moment of his time,” Claudia informed the butler and led the way into the drawing room.

Charlie followed her, and the butler closed the door behind him.

Claudia sat on the sofa, then frowning slightly, looked at Charlie. “I wondered if Napier would be at home, but it sounds as if he is.”

Charlie had already considered that issue. “It’s unlikely he’d be anywhere else at this hour.” He walked to the armchair opposite Claudia and sat. “It’s too early for dinner and too late for the usual afternoon pursuits of a gentleman of his age.”

The door opened, and the butler came in and bowed. “If you will follow me, sir, my lady, his lordship will see you in his study.”

They rose and followed the man along a corridor that led toward the rear of the house.

Charlie wondered at Napier’s choice of room. If it had been Charlie alone, seeing him in the study would have been normal enough, but to receive a marquess’s daughter, one with whom Napier wasn’t on familiar terms, in his study? Charlie suspected that Napier had already heard of Sedbury’s death and felt the need of the more private setting for the upcoming interview.

The butler halted before a door at the end of the corridor, opened it, announced them, and ushered them into a decent-sized room lined with bookcases.

Napier rose from behind a large desk placed before a pair of long windows that overlooked the rear garden. He half bowed to Claudia. “Lady Claudia. A pleasure.” More familiarly, Napier exchanged nods with Charlie. “Hastings.”

With the formalities observed, Napier waved them to two armchairs facing the desk. “Now, what can I do for you?”

Claudia had carried Napier’s whip down by her side, and the whip had largely been concealed by her skirts. As she sat, she placed the whip on her lap, and instantly, Napier’s gaze locked on it.

Studying the man’s reaction, Charlie had absolutely no doubt that he’d been correct in identifying the whip as Napier’s.

Napier was having difficulty dragging his gaze from the whip, but eventually, he managed it and looked at Claudia. “Lady Claudia, I understand that Viscount Sedbury has died. Permit me to offer my condolences to you and your family.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Claudia smoothly replied, “but the truth of the matter is that none of the family were close to Sedbury, and he will not be deeply mourned.”

“Ah. I see.” Napier looked a trifle less uneasy, and his gaze lowered again to the whip.

Claudia went on, “In dealing with Sedbury’s possessions, we came upon his collection of whips, and as none of the family are knowledgeable about such items, we asked Mr. Hastings to assist us. On viewing Sedbury’s whips, Mr. Hastings identified this one”—briefly, she lifted the whip, breaking the hold it had on Napier—“as recently belonging to you.” When Napier raised his gaze to her face, she smiled and asked, “We wondered if you would explain the circumstances that led to your whip being in Sedbury’s hands.”

Napier returned Claudia’s regard with a steady gaze, plainly weighing what he should say.

Mildly, Charlie said, “I remember you had the whip at the last club meet and was surprised to find it in Sedbury’s rooms.”

Napier’s gaze deflected to Charlie, and he studied him for a moment, then Napier returned his gaze to Claudia and said, “My son, Percy, has only recently come on the town, and he was unwise enough to fall in with a crowd that frequented a particular hell in Pall Mall. By the time I learned of it, Percy had lost…quite a sum. That was bad enough, but not impossible to rectify. However, unfortunately, his debts in the form of notes of hand had somehow ended in Sedbury’s pocket.”

“Ah.” Charlie nodded understandingly. “And Sedbury demanded the whip in settlement.”

Napier snorted. “You plainly didn’t know Sedbury well.” Napier looked at Claudia. “Sedbury demanded that I cover the debts and, in addition, surrender the whip to him by way of interest.” Napier’s lips tightened. “Initially, I refused, but cool as you please, Sedbury threatened to blacken Percy’s name throughout the clubs and ensure that he was never admitted to any of them.” Napier’s gaze remained steady on Claudia’s face, as if he was intent on ensuring she understood. “No matter that most of us couldn’t abide the man, as Rattenby’s heir, at some point, Sedbury would have been in a position to wield considerable power and influence.” Napier paused, then sat back and admitted, “In the end, I gave him the whip as well as the money.” He shook his head. “To be rid of the threat Sedbury posed, it was worth it. My son’s future was more valuable to me.”

Claudia smothered a sigh. “I feel I should apologize for Sedbury and his crass behavior, yet the truth is that he was as bad to us as he was to everyone else.”

Napier dipped his head, acknowledging her words. “In turn, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Charlie cleared his throat and asked, “When did you last see Sedbury?”

Napier readily replied, “He came here last Tuesday evening. I’d sent around a note to say I was willing to meet his demands.”

Claudia asked, “You didn’t see him after that?”

Napier shook his head. “And before you—or the police—ask, I sent Percy off to visit his aunt in Northumberland on Tuesday morning. He won’t be returning for at least a month.”

Charlie inclined his head. “Thank you for being so forthcoming. As you’ve no doubt guessed, we’re trying to establish Sedbury’s movements around the time of his death for the investigators.”

“Indeed.” Claudia rose, bringing both men to their feet. “Thank you for your time, my lord.” She held out the whip. “Please, take this back, in recompense as it were.” She met Napier’s gaze. “I assure you the rest of the Hales are nothing like Sedbury.”

Napier hesitated for only a second, then reached across the desk and took the whip. “Thank you, Lady Claudia.” He inclined his head to Charlie. “Hastings.”

Napier rang for the butler, and with genial farewells, they left Napier in his study, smiling at his whip, and quit the house.

Charlie paused on the pavement outside, and Claudia halted beside him and quietly said, “He might have considered protecting his son worth handing over that whip, but…”

Charlie grimaced. “Handing Sedbury that particular whip definitely hurt.”

“So Napier remains on the suspect list?”

Charlie met her gaze. “In the circumstances, we have to let Stokes—and Barnaby and Penelope—know what we’ve learned. We can leave it to them to decide what weight to attach to the information.”

Claudia inclined her head in agreement. She wanted as many names on the suspect list as possible, and while she doubted Napier had had any hand in Sedbury’s murder, she was content that he remained in contention. “In that case”—she placed her hand on Charlie’s sleeve and turned to where Fosdyke was waiting with the carriage—“we had better go and report our findings.” That would also bring her up to date with anything the investigation had uncovered. She glanced at Charlie. “Where to?”

Obligingly, he steered her to the carriage. “Barnaby and Penelope’s house in Albemarle Street.”

Penelope was standing at the drawing-room window, idly looking out at the street, when a small unmarked black town carriage driven by an exceedingly large and burly coachman drew up outside their door.

Eagerness seized her; at last, some news!

As she watched, the coachman climbed down to the pavement and opened the carriage door, and the last of the waning afternoon light fell on his face and illuminated the gash above his eyebrow. She was making a mental note not to forget to investigate the large, strong coachman with the damaged face when, to her considerable surprise, Charlie descended from the carriage and handed Claudia down.

Penelope stepped away from the window. “I didn’t know they knew each other.”

The doorbell pealed, and she heard Mostyn open the door, and seconds later, Claudia came into the room with Charlie in her wake.

Penelope’s mind seethed with possibilities as she smiled in welcome. “I’m glad you could join us.” She touched fingers with Claudia, nodded to Charlie, then waved them to seats. “Barnaby said he’d fetch Stokes. They should be here soon.” Resuming her customary place on one of the two long sofas, the instant her guests had settled—Claudia on the sofa opposite and Charlie in an armchair—she asked, “Am I to take it you have fresh information?”

Charlie exchanged a glance with Claudia. “We’ve learned a thing or two,” he said, “and we thought we should come and report.”

Penelope was about to encourage them to tell her all—and by all, she meant all —but just at that moment, they heard the front door open and the rumble of familiar voices as Barnaby and Stokes entered the house.

A minute later, after divesting themselves of coats and hats, the pair strolled into the drawing room.

Stokes surveyed the company, then nodded to Claudia. “Lady Claudia. I hadn’t expected to see you so soon.”

Claudia smiled. “Please, just Claudia. And I came upon Mr. Hastings, who was helping my brothers sort through Sedbury’s things, and he discovered an anomaly in Sedbury’s whip collection that he and I subsequently followed up.”

“We thought we should let you know what we found,” Charlie put in.

“Good.” Stokes sank into the armchair beside the one Charlie occupied.

Penelope suspected Stokes was a trifle leery of Claudia’s unexpected presence, yet at the same time, he wanted to hear any information she was willing to share.

After exchanging polite nods with Claudia, Barnaby sat on the sofa beside Penelope.

The instant he did, she opened her lips to start questioning Claudia only to hear Stokes declare, “A round of reports seems in order.” His gray gaze fixed on Penelope. “You first, I think. I’m keen to hear what your usual sources had to say.”

She inwardly heaved a put-upon sigh but, deciding that the fastest way to learning everyone else’s news was to share her own, she marshalled her thoughts, then looked at Claudia. “Claudia, I apologize in advance for any aspersions implied by what I have to report, but at this stage of an investigation, it’s imperative that everyone who could possibly have a motive is identified.”

Claudia’s faint grimace assured Penelope that Claudia was well aware of the familial secrets Penelope was about to reveal. Claudia inclined her head. “I understand.”

Penelope drew breath and commenced, “First, I have yet to meet or hear of anyone who feels even an iota of grief over Sedbury’s death, which is remarkable in and of itself. I’ve been told that the reason I never met him socially is that despite being the heir to a marquessate, by the time I made my come-out, he’d already been struck off the hostesses’ lists. It’s also common knowledge, backed by first-hand evidence, that Sedbury was set on disowning the rest of the Hale family the instant he inherited the title. Consequently, every single member of the family, from the marquess himself to Claudia’s youngest brother, Conrad, can be said to have had a powerful motive to do away with Sedbury. Against that, however, as one of my ladies observed, the question arises as to why any of them waited until now to act, as Sedbury’s stance regarding the family has been known for years.” She glanced at Claudia. “Have I got all that right?”

Somewhat stiffly, Claudia nodded. “All of what you’ve said so far is unarguable.”

“In addition, there’s a general view that Sedbury’s shadow, as it were, has stymied the marriage prospects of his half siblings—specifically Jonathon and Claudia, but that would also apply to Bryan and Margot, who will shortly make her come-out. So I believe it’s fair to state that all of the family and all those who are their active supporters had strong reasons for wishing Sedbury dead.”

Penelope paused, reviewing her list of revelations yet to be made. “All of that speaks to a major motive that applies to every member of the family. However, we have at least two members with additional motives specific to them.” She raised a hand and ticked them off on her fingers. “Jonathon, who Sedbury specifically and consistently goaded, including whatever was behind that unfinished letter. And Bryan, whose future wife Sedbury was doing his damnedest to steal.

“So that’s the family.” She blew out a breath and went on, “To that list, we apparently need to add a very large number of ton figures known to have had their lives adversely impacted by Sedbury.” She looked at Stokes, who had been scribbling in his notebook. “And yes, it seems all those occurrences are of the ilk to give rise to sufficient motive for Sedbury’s murder.”

Frowning, Stokes glanced at her. “ All of them?”

“All. There are at least twenty-three members of the ton known to be in that category.” Her expression severe, she shook her head. “I have never come across any man so reviled by so many. In short, there is a very long list of people who would have wanted Sedbury dead. And that’s just within the ton. As was stated to me, Sedbury was a man who delighted in gathering enemies, and given that behavior, we can be absolutely certain that there are many more who wished him ill among the lower classes.”

Stokes appeared utterly confounded, and even Barnaby looked taken aback.

After a moment, as if feeling his way, Barnaby ventured, “In speaking of the family, why include the marchioness and Claudia and the younger children?”

Penelope evenly replied, “While no one imagines they would have—or indeed, could have—strangled Sedbury themselves…” She looked at Claudia. “Are there any trusted family retainers here in London?”

Claudia met her eyes, then sighed and tipped her head toward the street. “Fosdyke. Currently, he’s acting as my coachman-cum-guard.”

“His background?” Penelope inquired.

Claudia glanced at Charlie. “As I explained to Charlie, Fosdyke came to Rattenby with Mama on her marriage. He was her groom, and he’s first and foremost devoted to her, but his vigilance extends to all her children.”

Stokes fixed Claudia with a steady gaze. “Would he kill to protect any of you?”

Her gaze locked with Stokes’s, Claudia hesitated, then sighed and said, “I really couldn’t say.”

And that, Penelope thought, was answer enough.

Charlie cleared his throat, and when they all looked his way, with an apologetic glance at Claudia, he offered, “Fosdyke has a nasty gash above his left eyebrow. Also, Jonathon Hale has a livid scrape down one cheek.”

Stokes, who had been busily writing, looked at Charlie and frowned. “You met Jonathon Hale?”

Charlie explained how Jonathon, knowing Charlie to be a whip collector, had asked him for advice on what to do with Sedbury’s whips. “But of particular note, when I looked over Sedbury’s collection, I found a whip that, up until a week ago, belonged to Lord Napier.”

Claudia sat straighter. “We—Charlie and I—called on Lord Napier, and he was kind enough to trust us with the story of how his son, who has recently come on the town, fell into debt, and how Sedbury had acquired those debts and insisted not only that the money be paid but that Napier throw in his whip for good measure.” She looked at Penelope. “I imagine Napier’s story is much like those you heard today concerning other members of the ton.”

Penelope nodded. “Sedbury didn’t exactly blackmail people, but extortion for immediate gain? Yes, indeed, that was his game.”

Charlie said, “While I can’t see Napier as the murderer, he certainly had as much motive as anyone. As did his son, although Napier sent the lad north to his sister nearly a week prior to Sedbury’s murder, so the son, at least, seems to be off the list.”

“Convenient.” Stokes was still writing. “We’ll need to check on the boy’s movements, regardless.” He looked at Penelope. “Do you have a list of those twenty-three names?”

She pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket. “I wrote down all the names, but as it happens, with this being the off-season, several are known to be in the country. Assuming they didn’t hire someone to do the deed while they are far distant—always a possibility—then we have fourteen who were in town themselves when Sedbury was killed.”

Stokes took the sheet, scanned the names, and sighed. “As matters stand, as well as the Hales and their people, and the Ellises and theirs, and now also Napier and his household, we need to investigate everyone on this list.” He looked at Penelope.

She stared back unenthusiastically.

Barnaby stirred. “We should be able to at least make a cursory examination using my network”—he focused on Penelope—“as well as yours.”

Stokes arched a brow at her. “You have a network as well?”

She lifted one shoulder. “The maids and the cooks’ helpers the Foundling House has placed in service. Those girls are now distributed throughout the ton. I’ve taken on two of the older girls for training here, and with my encouragement, they keep in contact with all the others. In reality, the staff of all the houses in Mayfair have their own network—as we’ve all known for decades, given they are the speediest and most reliable source of ton gossip—and through my two girls as well as the staff here, we can tap into that wider network as well.”

Stokes sat back. “That’s…quite brilliant. I’m impressed.”

Resigned, Penelope tipped her head at the list in Stokes’s hand. “I have a copy of that, of course, and despite the number, accepting that everyone had motive enough, if we concentrate instead on who had opportunity, I would hope to reduce the list to possibles within a few days.”

Stokes slowly nodded, then looked at Claudia. “How many days do you think we’ll have before your father arrives in town?”

She plainly calculated, then grimaced and said, “Probably only another day, two at most. I know Aunt Patricia—Lady Selborough—is expecting Papa and Mama to arrive by the day after tomorrow.”

Stokes grimaced, then briefly filled the others in on the progress—or lack thereof—in the search along the riverbank. “We’re working on the theory that, assuming Sedbury was killed by the river or close to it, either there will be some physical sign of a struggle somewhere along the embankment or someone will have noticed an altercation. We know there was a fight, and given Sedbury’s size and strength, the encounter had to have been notable. Alternatively, if he was killed somewhere else and his body brought there and dumped into the river, there should be someone who saw something. Despite the hour, in that area, there are taverns that would have still been open, and night watchmen and boatmen about as well.” He concluded with, “Although it’s been slow going, we’ve cleared the stretch from Limehouse Dock to the entrance to Regent’s Canal. Tomorrow, we’ll continue searching westward from there.”

The sentiment and hope we find something soon didn’t need to be articulated.

Barnaby looked around the faces, then said, “On a positive note, we’ve found witnesses enough to definitively strike Charlie from the suspects’ list.”

Charlie grinned and audibly exhaled in mock-relief.

Barnaby noted that Claudia also appeared quietly relieved. Smiling, he continued, “In addition, we now know that after leaving White’s, Sedbury walked to Pall Mall and caught a hackney that he directed eastward. Whether he went directly to the docks or somewhere else, we’ve yet to learn, but my lads are presently searching for the hackney driver. Tomorrow, I’ll send a group to ask at pawnshops, looking for any sign of Sedbury’s whip. If it was left on the riverbank or anywhere else by his murderer, it’s almost certainly no longer there. Someone will have picked it up and sold it on, and if we can locate it and, through that, contact who first found it, we might be able to deduce something useful from where it was discarded.”

“Well,” Stokes said, shutting his notebook, “it seems we have our work cut out for us.”

Charlie glanced at Claudia, then looked at Penelope and rather carefully suggested, “If you like, we—Claudia and I—could question her brothers’ and aunt’s staff and see if we can establish alibis for Jonathon, Bryan, and Fosdyke.”

“Please do,” Penelope promptly replied. “I’ll have my hands full with the rest of my list.”

Stokes nodded his agreement. “Just make sure that you make it abundantly clear that you’re only interested in hearing the truth. It won’t help if the staff make up some story exonerating someone because they think that’s what you want them to say.”

Penelope studied Claudia and Charlie. “Do you think you can do that?”

Charlie and Claudia exchanged a glance, then Claudia looked at Penelope. “I’ll make sure they understand we only want the truth.”

“Onward, then.” Stokes got to his feet.

Everyone else rose as well, and the company went into the front hall, where coats and hats were donned and farewells exchanged.

Penelope directed, “We’ll meet back here and share what we’ve learned late tomorrow afternoon.”

No one argued.

Charlie and Claudia were the first to leave, and Mostyn closed the door against the chilly breeze.

Settling his coat, Stokes caught Penelope’s eye. “Do you think we’ll be able to trust what Charlie and Claudia report?”

“I think so,” Penelope replied. “Claudia may be protective of her brothers, but Charlie has good instincts about people, and he won’t allow her to gloss over or invent anything, no matter how tempting.” She smiled. “Besides, in case it’s escaped your notice, Claudia is determined to prove her brothers innocent of the crime, and it’s better that she employs her talents in a way that’s useful to us rather than going off on her own and trying to discover, for instance, just where on the docks Sedbury died.”

Stokes looked suitably horrified. “Heaven preserve us.”

Barnaby laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, then he and Penelope saw their friend out.

With the front door closed, they turned and walked deeper into the house.

Barnaby glanced at Penelope’s face and smiled at her focused expression. “You’ll have a full day ahead of you, crammed with investigating.”

She grinned and met his eyes. “I’ve decided that the only way to approach tomorrow’s task is to view it as a challenge to see how fast and how far I can trim that list.” She gestured as if giving the order to charge. “As Stokes said, onward!”