lso
swears by Sypher's Cure."

So they became friends. Sypher, since the blistered heel episode, had lost
his fearless way of trumpeting the Cure far and wide, having a nervous
dread of seeing the _p_ and _q_ of the hateful words form themselves on the
lips of a companion. He became subdued, and spoke only of travel and men
and things, of anything but the Cure. He preferred to listen and, as
Rattenden preferred to talk, he found conversation a simple matter.
Rattenden was an amusing anecdotist and had amassed a prodigious amount of
raw material for his craft. To the collector, by some unknown law of
attraction, come the objects which he collects. Everywhere he goes he finds
them to his hand, as Septimus's friend found the Toby jugs. Wherever
Rattenden turned, a bit of gossip met his ear. Very few things, therefore,
happened in literary and theatrical London which did not come inevitably to
his knowledge. He could have wrecked many homes and pricked many
reputations. As a man of the world, however, he used his knowledge with
discretion, and as an artist in anecdote he selected fastidiously. He
seldom retailed a bit of gossip for its own sake; when he did so he had a
purpose.

One evening they dined together at Sypher's club, a great semi-political
institution with many thousand members. He had secured, however, a quiet
table in a corner of the dining-room which was adorned with full-length
portraits of self-conscious statesmen. Sypher unfolded his napkin with an
air of satisfaction.

"I've had good news to-day. Mrs. Middlemist is on her way home."

"You have the privilege of her friendship," said Rattenden. "You're to be
envied. _O fortunate nimium_."

He preserved some of the Oxford tradition in tone and manner. He had brown
hair turning gray, a drooping mustache and wore pince-nez secured by a
broad black cord. Being very short-sighted his eyes seen through the thick
lenses were almost expressionless.

"Zora Middlemist," said he, squeezing lemon over his oysters, "is a grand
and splendid creature whom I admire vastly. As I never lose an opportunity
of telling her that she is doing nothing with her grand and splendid
qualities, I suffer under the ban of her displeasure."

"What do you think she ought to do with them?" asked Sypher.

"It's a difficult and delicate matter to discuss a woman with another man;
especially--" he waved a significant hand. "But I, in my little way, have
written a novel or two--studies