Riker shrugged. “When I agree to hunt for a significant gem, I first investigate whether the client can afford it or is merely wishing he can.”

“Detectives aren’t rich.”

“Those who inherit Boston banking fortunes are, Mr. Bell. Forgive me if I seemed to intrude on your privacy, but I think you can understand that gathering information about my customers is a necessary part of doing business. I have a small operation. I can’t afford to spend weeks hunting stones for a client who turns out to have eyes bigger than his stomach.”

“I understand,” said Bell. “I presume you understand why I don’t bandy it about?”

“Of course, sir. Your secrets are safe with me. Though I did wonder when I discovered who you are how a successful detective keeps out of the limelight.”

“By avoiding cameras and portraitists.”

“But it would seem that the more criminals you catch the more famous you will be.”

“Hopefully,” said Bell, “only among criminals behind bars.” Riker laughed. “Well said, sir. Come, here I am talking a blue streak. The waiter is hovering. We must order our dinner.”

Behind him, Bell heard Arnold Bennett announcing, “This is the first time I ever dined à la carte on any train. An excellent dinner, well and sympathetically served. The mutton was impeccable.”

“There’s an endorsement,” said Riker. “Perhaps you should have the mutton.”

“I’ve never met an Englishman who knew a thing about good food,” Bell replied, and asked the waiter, “Are we still in shad season?”

“Yes, sir! How would you like it cooked?”

“Grilled. And may I reserve some roe for breakfast?”

“It will be a different diner in the morning, sir. Hitched on at Elkhart. But I’ll leave some on ice with the Pullman conductor.”

“Make that two portions,” said Riker. “Shad tonight, shad roe in the morning. What do you say, Bell, shall we share a bottle of Rhine wine?”

After the waiter left them, Bell said, “Your English is remarkable. As if you have spoken it your entire life.”

Riker laughed. “They beat English into me at Eton. My father sent me to England for preparatory school. He felt it would help me get on in the business if I could mingle with more than just our German countrymen. But tell me something—speaking of fathers—how did you manage to stay out of your family’s banking business?”

Aware from the Van Dorn reports that Riker’s father had been killed during the Boer War, Bell answered obliquely in order to draw him out. “My father was, and still is, very much in charge.” He looked inquiringly at Riker, and the German said, “I envy you. I had no such choice. My father died in Africa when I was just finishing university. If I had not stepped in, the business would have fallen to pieces.”

“I gathered from the way that jeweler spoke that you’ve made quite a go of it.”