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Updated: May 25, 2025
There was kindness, help, sympathy in the big man's voice, and Septimus, though the challenge caused him agonies of shyness, did not find it in his heart to resent Sypher's logic. "I suppose every man whom she befriends must feel the same towards her. Don't you?" "I? I'm different. I've got a great work to carry through. I couldn't lie down for anybody to walk over me.
The inflammation, however, clearly required medical advice. In the midst of his ruefulness the doctor, a capable-looking man of five and thirty, entered the room. He examined the heel and ankle with professional scrutiny. Then he raised his head. "Have you been treating it in any way?" "Yes," said Sypher, "with the Cure." "What Cure?" "Why, Sypher's Cure."
What are the Powers of Darkness in your case, Sir Red Cross Knight?" "Jebusa Jones's Cuticle Remedy," said Sypher savagely. That was Clem Sypher's Dragon Jebusa Jones's Cuticle Remedy. He drew so vivid a picture of its foul iniquity that Zora was convinced that the earth had never harbored so scaly a horror. Of all Powers of Evil in the universe it was the most devastating.
You couldn't expect a woman like Zora Middlemist to fail in her duty, could you?" Sypher rubbed his eyes, as if he saw things mistily. But they were quite clear. It was really Septimus Dix who sat opposite, concentrating his discursive mind on Sypher's Cure and implicitly denying Zora's faith.
If you'd only go about Monte Carlo with an inscription 'Try Sypher's Cure! What an advertisement! I'd have you one done in diamonds! And how did you find it, Mr. Dix?" "I oh!" murmured Septimus. "I forgot about it last night and this morning I found I hadn't any brown boot polish I " "Used the cure?" cried Zora, aghast. "Yes," said Septimus, timidly.
He was a sharp, black-haired young man, with a worried brow and a bilious complexion. The soothing of the human race with Sypher's Balm of Gilead mattered nothing to him. His atrabiliar temperament rendered his attitude towards humanity rather misanthropic than otherwise. "Indeed," he continued, "I don't see why you shouldn't try for the army contracts without referring specifically to sore feet."
Presently he turned and struck a dramatic attitude, as a man might do who had built himself a new wonder house. And then on three astonished pairs of eyes burst the following inscription in gigantic capitals which he who flew by in an express train could read: SYPHER'S CURE! Clem Sypher. Friend of Humanity! "Isn't that great?" he cried. "I've had it in my mind for years.
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