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Updated: May 24, 2025
They drank the toast solemnly. And then Sypher unfolded to his awe-stricken subordinate the scheme for deblistering the heels of the armies of the world. Dennymede, fired by his enthusiasm, again lifted his brimming glass. "By God, sir, you are a conqueror, an Alexander, a Hannibal, a Napoleon! There's a colossal fortune in it."
"All that is nothing!" he cried. "A flea bite in the ocean. It will right itself as the public realize how they are being taken in by these American and German impostors. The Cure can't fail. And let me tell you, Dennymede, my son, the Cure is going to flourish as it has never flourished before. I've got a scheme that will take your breath away."
Why, good heavens, man, the Cure! What else?" He regarded Dennymede as if he were insane, and Dennymede in his confusion blushed as red as the blistered heel. They spent the afternoon over the reports and figures which had so greatly depressed the traveler. He left his chief with hopes throbbing in his breast. He had been promised a high position in the new Army Contract Department.
Dennymede came to visit him and heard with dismay the verdict of science, which crushed his hope of a high position in the new Army Contract Department. But Sypher reassured him as to his material welfare by increasing his commission on foreign sales; whereupon he began to take a practical view of the situation. "We can't expect a patent medicine, sir, to do everything."
"The Jebusa Jones people aren't so conscientious," said Dennymede. "I bought a pot of their stuff this morning. They've got a new wrapper. See." He unfolded a piece of paper and pointed out the place to his chief. "They have a special paragraph in large print: 'Gives instant relief to blistered feet. Every mountaineer should carry it in his gripsack."
"I quite agree with you," said Sypher. "It can't make two legs grow where one grew before, but it ought to cure blisters on the heel. Apparently it won't. So we are where we were before I met Monsieur Hégisippe Cruchot. The only thing is that we mustn't now lead people to suppose that it's good for blisters." "They must take their chance," said Dennymede.
"They're the enemies of God and man," said Sypher, "and sooner than copy their methods I would close down the factory and never sell another box as long as I lived." "It's a thousand pities, sir, anyhow," said Dennymede, trying to work back diplomatically, "that the army contract scheme has to be thrown overboard." "Yes, it's a nuisance," said Sypher.
"Caveat emptor," said Sypher. "I beg your pardon?" said Dennymede, who had no Latinity. "It means, let the buyer beware; it's up to the buyer to see what stuff he's buying." "Naturally. It's the first principle of business." Sypher turned his swift clear glance on him and banged the window-ledge with his hand.
Sypher laid down the peach he was peeling and looked pityingly at Dennymede as at one of little faith, one born to the day of small things. "It will be all the more my duty to do so," said he, "when the instruments are placed in my hands. What, after all, is the healing of a few blistered feet, compared with the scourge of leprosy, eczema, itch, psoriasis, and what not?
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