Messieurs, au revoir." He shook hands, saluted and swaggered off, his chechia at the very back of his head, leaving half his shaven crown uncovered in front.
"A fine fellow, your friend, an intelligent fellow--" said Sypher, watching him.
"He's going to be a waiter," said Septimus.
"Now that he has had his heels rubbed with the cure he may be more ambitious.

A valuable fellow, for having given me a stupendous idea--but a bit indiscreet, eh?
Never mind," he added, seeing the piteous look on Septimus's face.

"I'll have discretion for the two of us.

I'll not breathe a word of it to anybody." "Thank you," said Septimus.
There was an awkward silence.

Septimus traced a diagram on the table with the spilled tea.