Diary of a Drug Fiend

100 The Diary of a Drug Fiend Monsieur Feccles, the manager said, had left that morning suddenly. Yes, he had left his heavy baggage. He might be back at any moment. No, he had left no word as to where he was going. Well, of course, he would be back on Saturday morning to get the five thousand. It was obvious what I was to do. I would leave the money for him, and take the manager’s receipt, and tell him to send the papers on to the Caligula at Capri. I started to count out the cash. We were sitting in the lounge. A sense of absolute bewilderment and helplessness came over me. “TI say, Lou,’ I stammered, “I wish you'd count this. I can’t make it come right. I think I must have been going a bit too hard.” She went through the various pockets of my porte- feuille. ‘““Haven’t you some money in your pocket?” she said. I went through myself with sudden anxiety. I had money in nearly every pocket ; but it only amounted to so much small change. A thousand francs here and a hundred francs there, a fifty-pound note in my waist- coat, a lot of small billsk—— In the meanwhile, Lou had added up the contents of my porte-feuille. The total was just over seventeen hundred. “My God! I’ve been robbed,” I gasped out, my face flushing furiously with anger. Lou kept her head and her temper. After all, it wasn’t her money! She began to figure on a scrap of the hotel note paper. “T’m afraid it’s all right,”” she announced, “‘ you dear, bad boy.” I had become suddenly’ sober. Yes, there was nothing wrong with the figures. I had paid cash to the jeweller without thinking. By Jove, we were in a hole! I felt instinctively that it was impossible to telegraph to Wolfe for more money.