aid
Mr. Robertson, in a tone almost rallying. "The public is free of all
information, only it will not inquire. A little curiosity on its
part would even save much unfortunate misunderstanding."

"In what way?"

"Well, the public reads of rewards (with which, by the way, I have
nothing to do) conferred on really eminent men--Lord Roberts, for
instance, or Sir Henry Irving, or Sir Joseph Lister. It then goes
down the List and, finding a number of names of which it has never
heard, complains that Her Majesty's favour has been bestowed on
nonentities; whereas this is really the merit of the List, that they
_are_ nonentities."

"I don't understand."

"Well, then, _they don't exist_."

"But surely--"

"My dear sir," said Mr. Robertson, still smiling, and handing me his
copy of _The Times_, "cast your eye down that column; take the names
of the new knights--'Blain, Clarke, Edridge, Farrant, Laing, Laird,
Wardle'--what strikes you as remarkable about them?"

"Why, that I have never heard of any of them."

"Naturally, for there are no such people. I made them up; and a good
average lot they are, though perhaps the preponderance of
monosyllables is a little too obvious."

"But see here. I read that 'Mr. Thomas Wardle is a silk merchant of
Staffordshire.'"

"But I assure you that I took him out of _Pickwick_."

"Yes, but here is 'William Laird,' for instance. I hear that already
two actual William Lairds--one of Birkenhead, the other of Glasgow--
are convinced that the honour belongs to them."

"No doubt they will be round in a day or two. The Heralds' College
will refer them to me--not simultaneously, if I may trust Sir Albert
Woods's tact--and I shall tell them that it belongs to neither, but
to another William Laird altogether. But, if you doubt, take the
Indian promotions. Lord Salisbury sometimes adds a name or two after
I send in the List, and--well, you know his lordship is not fond of
the dark races and has a somewhat caustic humour. Look at the new
C.I.E.'s: 'Rai Bahadur Pandit Bhag Rum.' Does it occur to you that a
person of that name really exists? 'Khan Bahadur Naoraji
('Naoraji,' mark you) Pestonji Vakil'--it's the language of
extravaganza! The Marquis goes too far: it spoils all
verisimilitude."

M