“Wot we want,” said fat Sam, “is one o’ them things people ’ave in the City—one o’ the ’er what d’yer call ’ems.” “’Ansom keb?” suggested the cook. “’Ansom keb be damned!” said Sam scornfully. “One of them things wot ’as a lot o’ people in, I mean.” “Tramcars,” said the cook, who was all at sea. “But you couldn’t take a tramcar all over the country, Sam.” “If anybody was to ask me, I should say you was a silly fool,” said Sam impatiently. “I mean one o’ them things people puts their money in.” The wondering cook had got as far as “automatic mach—” when Henry jostled him into silence. “Wot are you gettin’ at?” said Dick. “Why don’t you talk plain?” “’Cos I can’t remember the word,” said Sam angrily; “but a lot o’ people gets together and goes shares.” “You mean a syndikit,” said Dick. “That’s the word,” said Sam, with relief. “Well, wot’s the good of it?” said Dick. “This way,” said Sam; “we make up a syndikit and divide the money when ’e’s found. It ’ud be a cruel thing, Dick, if, just as you’d spotted your man, I wos to come along and snap ’im up under your werry nose, for instance—” “You’d better try it,” said Dick grimly. “It’s a very good idea o’ yours, Sam,” said the cook. “I’ll join it.” “You’d better come in, Dick,” said Sam. “Not me,” said Dick; “it’s five pounds I’m after.” “We shall beworkin’ agin you, you know, me an’ the cook an’ the boy,” said Sam anxiously. “Ho!” said Henry, “don’t think I’m takin’ a ’and, cos I’m not.” “Werry good, then,” said Sam, “the—the——what d’ye call it, Dick?” “Syndikit,” said Dick. “The syndikit is me and the cook, then,” said Sam. “Give us your ’and, cook.” In this informal way the “Captain Gething Search Company” was founded, and the syndicate, thinking that they had a good thing, began to hold aloof from their fellows, and to confer darkly in remote corners. They expended a shilling on a popular detective story entitled, “On the Trail,” and an element of adventure was imported into their lives which brightened them considerably. The following day the skipper spent hard at work with the cargo, bustling about with feverish energy as the afternoon wore on and left him to imagine his rival _tête-à-tête_ with Annis. After tea a reaction set in, and, bit by bit the mate, by means of timely sympathy, learnt all that there was to know. Henry, without a display of anything, except, perhaps, silence, learnt it too. “It’s in your favor that it’s your own craft,” said the mate; “you can go where you like. If you find the father, she might chuck the other feller.” “That isn’t my object in finding him,” said the skipper. “I just want to find him to oblige her.”