He helped himself to marmalade with a jaunty hand. Luke hardly noticed the easy transition from "I" to "we." He had had no intention of suggesting a partnership in this easy manner of making money, but the partnership seemed to have formed itself. "But--" Carr paused, holding in the air an emphatic spoon. "But, my boy, we want capital, we want to lay our hands on fifty thousand pounds." "I am afraid I could not lay my hand on fifty thousand pence," said Luke. Carr glanced at him sharply. There was a little pause while Carr ate marmalade and toast. "Oh yes, you could," he said in a low tone. "Between us we could raise fifty thousand as easy as winking." As if to demonstrate the facility of the latter, he looked up and closed his left eye confidentially. "You're a sailor," he went on to say, "and a ripping good one at that. You know the perils of the deep, as the parsons say. It wouldn't be hard for you to tell when the Croonah was running into a tight place like yesterday. All you have to do is to wire home one word to me. My telegraphic address is 'Simple, London.' Say you wire home 'Milksop.' We could fix on 'Milksop'; it sounds so innocent! In twenty-four hours I'd have fifty thousand done on the Croonah in London, Glasgow, Liverpool, New York, Paris, and Germany--spread about, you know. In four or five days the Croonah goes to the bottom, and we scoop in, your name never appearing--see?" There was a little pause. "See?" repeated Carr, in little more than a whisper. Luke looked up. He met Carr's eyes and knew that he was dealing with a villain. The strange part of it was that he felt no anger. He could not free his mind from the thought of Agatha. There was one corner of the steamer which was almost sacred to him--the little space behind the deckhouse where he had held Agatha in his arms for one moment of intense happiness--where she told him that she could not be poor. Carr rose and threw down his table napkin with a certain grand air which was his. "It would be the making of you," he said. "It is worth thinking about." He threw back his shoulders--a trick common enough with strongly built men who incline to stoutness--nodded, and left him. He passed down the length of the saloon, seeking his cigar-case in the pocket of his coat, exchanging loud and hearty greetings with those among the passengers whom he knew. He was popular on account of the open British frankness which he cultivated, and which is supposed to be the outward sign of an honest heart. He seemed to be thinking of his great scheme no longer, but he left Luke to brood over it--to try and chase the word "Milksop" from his brain, where it seemed to be indelibly engraved.