TRANTO. But he's a--

CULVER. Stop, my dear Tranto. No crude phrases, please. (_Reads_.) 'Mr.
James Brill, to use the language of metaphor, possessed a pistol, which
pistol he held point blank at the head of the Government. The Government
has thought it wise to purchase Mr. James Brill's pistol--'

TRANTO. But he's a--

CULVER (_raising a hand_). He is merely the man with the pistol, and in
exchange for the pistol he gets a baronetcy.

TRANTO. A baronetcy!

CULVER. His title and pistol will go rattling down the ages, my dear
Tranto, from generation to generation. For the moment the fellow's name
stinks, but only for the moment. In the nostrils of his grandson (third
baronet), it will have a most sweet odour.

MRS. CULVER. But all this is perfectly shocking.

CULVER. Now I hope you comprehend my emotion, darling.

MRS. CULVER But surely there are some _nice_ names on the List.

CULVER. Of course. There have to be some nice names, for the sake of the
psychological effect on the public mind on New Year's Day. The public
looks for a good name, or for a name it can understand. It skims down
the List till it sees one. Then it says: 'Ah! That's not so bad!' Then