they had blisters after a long day's march."

The effect of these words on Sypher was electrical. He brought both hands
down on the table, leaned back in his chair, and looked at Septimus.

"Good heavens!" he cried, changing color, "it never occurred to me."

"What?"

"Why--blistered heels--marching. Don't you see? It will cure the sore feet
of the Armies of the World. It's a revelation! It will be in the knapsack
of every soldier who goes to manoeuvers or to war! It will be a jolly sight
more useful than a marshal's baton! It will bring soothing comfort to
millions of brave men! Why did I never think of it? I must go round to all
the War Offices of the civilized globe. It's colossal. It makes your brain
reel. Friend of Humanity? I shall be the Benefactor of the Human Race."

"What will you have to drink?" asked Septimus.

"Anything. _Donnez-moi un bock_," he said impatiently, obsessed by his new
idea. "Tell me, Monsieur Cruchot, you who have used the _Cure Sypher_. It
is well known in the French army is it not? You had it served out from the
regimental medical stores?"

"Ah, no, Monsieur. It is my mother who rubbed it on my heels."

Sypher's face expressed disappointment, but he cheered up again
immediately.

"Never mind. It is the idea that you have given me. I am very grateful to
you, Monsieur Cruchot."

Hegisippe laughed. "It is to my mother you should be grateful, Monsieur."

"I should like to present her with a free order for the Cure for life--if I
knew where she lived."

"That is easy," said Hegisippe, "seeing that she is concierge in the house
where the _belle dame_ of Monsieur has her _appartement_."

"Her _appartement_?" Sypher turned sharply to Septimus. "What's that? I
thought you lived at the Hotel Godet."

"Of course," said Septimus, feeling very uncomfortable. "I live in the
hotel, and Emmy lives in a flat. She couldn't very well stay in the Hotel
Godet, because it isn't a nice place for ladies. There's a dog in the
courtyard that howls. I tried to throw him some cold ham the other morning
about six o'clock to stop him; but it hit a sort of dustman, who ate it and
looked up for more. It was very good ham, and I was going to have it for
supper."

"But, my dear man," said Sypher, laying his hand on his friend's shoulder,
and paying no heed to the dog, ham, and dustman story, "aren't you two
living together?"

"Oh, dear, not" said Septimus, in alarm, and then, catching at the first
expla