he handed to Septimus.

"There are two sample boxes of the cure--one for Mrs. Middlemist and one
for yourself, Mr. Dix. You both have a touch of the sun. Put it on
to-night. Let it stay there for five minutes; then rub off with a smooth,
dry towel. In the morning you'll see the miracle." He looked at Septimus
earnestly. "Quite sure you haven't anything in the nature of an eruption on
you?"

"Good Lord, no. Of course not," said Septimus, startled out of a dreamy
contemplation of the two little red boxes.

"That's a pity. It would have been so nice to cure you. Ah!" said he, with
a keen glance up the room. "There's Lord Rebenham. I must enquire after his
eczema. You won't forget me now. Clem Sypher. Friend of Humanity."

He bowed and withdrew, walking kindly and broad-shouldered trough the
crowd, like a benevolent deity, the latest thing in Æsculapiuses, among his
devotees.

"What am I to do with these?" asked Septimus, holding out the boxes.

"You had better give me mine, or heaven knows what will become of it," said
Zora, and she put it in her little chain bag, with her handkerchief, purse,
and powder-puff.

The next morning she received an enormous basket of roses and a bundle of
newspapers; also a card, bearing the inscription "Mr. Clem Sypher. The
Kurhaus. Kilburn Priory, N.W." She frowned ever so little at the flowers.
To accept them would be to accept Mr. Sypher's acquaintance in his private