“But do they know nothing about cyclones?” inquired Luke.
“My good sir, they hardly know the difference between Calcutta and Bombay. Half of them think that a cyclone and a monsoon are the same thing, and not one in ten could tell you the difference between a brig and a barquentine.”
Luke gave a little half-convinced laugh. The man was so open and honest that his arguments had nothing underhand or crafty in them.
“It sounds very simple,” he said.
“It is; d--d simple! So are the underwriters; but that is not our business. You see, FitzHenry, in all commerce there are a certain number of fools for the wise men to outwit. In marine insurance there are a large number. All insurance is nothing but a bet, and betting is a matter of intelligence. We bring more intelligence to bear upon it than the other chap, therefore we win.”
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.”