"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."
Hégisippe 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 Hégisippe, "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 Hôtel 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 Hôtel 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?"