“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.