"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.