"Precisely; that is just the point. What you mean is, that if they were found you would give them into custody, but you have to find them first. People don't go thief-hunting from motives of pure philanthropy; even a policeman requires you to make it worth his while." "May I ask if you are an amateur detective?" inquired the severe-looking gentleman. "I shouldn't call myself quite that," said "Uncle Tom." "But you have evidently had considerable experience in dealing with crime?" "It has been the study of my life," said "Uncle Tom." "I suppose that it is a very interesting study?" "Very interesting indeed." "If it is not an impertinent question, may I ask whether it has been your own experience that such a study improves the moral nature of a man?" "Quite the reverse," said "Uncle Tom." "You are frank." "What is life unless you are?" asked "Uncle Tom." The captain laughed; but Bertie was in agony The train began to slow. "I think this is Southampton," said the thin young man. And it was. Chapter XIX TO JERSEY WITH A THIEF The night's boat was the _Ella_. When the train drew to a standstill and the passengers got out Bertie supposed that their journey was at an end. His ideas as to the whereabouts of Jersey were very vague indeed. He was surprised, therefore, when the captain, taking his hand, led him along the gangway to the boat. The stars were shining brightly overhead, but midnight never is quite as light as noon, and in the uncertain light he could neither see nor understand where it was that they were going. The captain led him to the hurricane deck, and then he paused. Then he led Bertie to a seat. "This will be your bed to-night. I don't choose to go into the cabin, and I don't choose that you shall go without me." Bertie sat down and wondered. Dark figures were passing to and fro; there were the lights on the shore; he could feel the throbbing of the engines; there was the unclouded sky above; he still was in a dream. Unfortunately the figure of the captain standing near turned the dream into a nightmare. Most of the passengers went at once into their cabins. No one came near them. "Look up at me." Bertie looked up. The captain, standing, looked down at him. "Do you think I didn't see you in the train? Do you think I didn't see you wanting to open your mouth and blab before all those fools? It would have been capital fun for you, now, wouldn't it?" Bertie shivered. The captain's ideas of fun were singular. Bertie would have almost given his life to have done what the rascal hinted at, but he would have done it in his extremity of agony and with no idea of fun. It would have taken a burden off his mind which seemed almost greater than he could bear; it threatened to drive him mad. But to have played the part suggested would have needed a touch of the heroic--a courage, a strength which Bertie had not got. The captain went on.