"Excellent!" said Andrew. "He must be found. It will be the greatest boom of the century. But whom can we discover?" "There is John P. Smith," said Tom Brown. "No, why John P. Smith? He has merit," objected Taffy Owen. "And then he has never been in our set." "And besides he would not be satisfied," said Patrick Boyle. "That is true," said Andrew Mackay reflectively. "I know, Owen, _you_ would like to be the subject of the discovery. But I am afraid it is too late. I have taken your measurements and laid down the chart of your genius too definitely to alter now. You are permanently established in business as the dainty neo-Hellenic Buddhist who has chosen to express himself through farcical comedy. If you were just starting life, I could work you into this English Shakespeardom--I am always happy to put a good thing in the way of a friend--but at your age it is not easy to go into a new line." "Well, but," put in Harry Robinson, "if none of us is to be the English Shakespeare, why should we give over the appointment to an outsider? Charity begins at home." "That _is_ a difficulty," admitted Andrew, puckering his brow. "It brings us to a standstill. Seductive, therefore, as the idea is, I am afraid it has occurred to us too late." They sat in thoughtful silence. Then suddenly Frank Grey flashed in with a suggestion that took their breath away for a moment and restored it to them, charged with "Bravos" the moment after. "But why should he exist at all?" Why indeed? The more they pondered the matter, the less necessity they saw for it. "'Pon my word, Grey, you are right," said Andrew. "Right as Talleyrand when he told the thief who insisted that he must live: _Mais, monsieur, je n'en vois pas la nécessité_." "It's an inspiration!" said Tom Brown, moved out of his usual apathy. "We all remember how Whateley proved that the Emperor Napoleon never existed--and the plausible way he did it. How few persons actually saw the Emperor? How did even these know that what they saw _was_ the Emperor? Conversely, it should be as easy as possible for us six to put a non-existent English Shakespeare on the market. You remember what Voltaire said of God--that if there were none it would be necessary to invent Him. In like manner patriotism calls upon us to invent the English Shakespeare." "Yes, won't it be awful fun?" said Patrick Boyle. The idea was taken up eagerly--the _modus operandi_ was discussed, and the members parted, effervescing with enthusiasm and anxious to start the campaign immediately. The English Shakespeare was to be named Fladpick, a cognomen which once seen would hook itself on to the memory. The very next day a leading article in the _Daily Herald_ casually quoted Fladpick's famous line: "Coffined in English yew, he sleeps in peace."