Sypher took off his gray Homburg hat for a moment, and wiped a damp forehead.
"Whew! How anybody can stay in Paris this weather unless they are obliged to is a mystery."
"Why do you stay?" asked Septimus.
"I'm not staying. I'm passing through on my way to Switzerland to look after the Cure there. But I thought I'd look you up. I was on my way to you. I was in Nunsmere last week and took Wiggleswick by the throat and choked your address out of him. The Hôtel Godet. It's somewhere about here, isn't it?"
"Over there," said Septimus, with a wave of the hand. He brought a chair from the other table. "Do sit down."
Sypher obeyed. "How's the wife?"
"The—what?" asked Septimus.
"The wife—Mrs. Dix."
"Oh, very well, thank you," he said hurriedly. "Let me introduce you to my good friend Monsieur Hégisippe Cruchot of the Zouaves—Monsieur Cruchot—Monsieur Clem Sypher."
Hégisippe saluted and declared his enchantment according to the manners of his country. Sypher raised his hat politely.