108 The Diary of a Drug Fiend
inclemency. A small black moustache and imperial
completed the disguise. But in addition, his manner
of. dressing was a camouflage in itself. In Paris he had
been dressed very correctly. He might have been a
man about town of very good family.
But now he was dressed like a courier, or possibly
igh-class commercial traveller. His smartness had
an element of commonness very well marked. I
instinctively knew that he would prefer me not to
mention his name.
At this moment the train began to move, and we had
to hop on. We went at once to his compartment. It
was a coupé, and he was its sole occupant.
I have already described the shock which the re-
appearance of Feccles had administered to my nerves.
Normally, I should have felt very awkward indeed, but
the cocaine lifted me easily over the fence.
The incident became welcome; an additional adven-
ture in the fairy tale which we were living. Lou
herself was all gush and giggles to an extent which a
month earlier I should have thought a shade off. But
everything was equally exquisite on this grand com-
bination honeymoon.
Feccles appeared extremely amused by the encounter.
I asked him with the proper degree of concern if he
had had my note. He said no, he’d been called suddenly
away on business, I told him what I had written, with
added apologies.
The long journey had tired me deep down. I took
things more seriously, though the cocaine prevented
my realising that this was the case.
‘““My dear fellow,” he protested. ‘I’m extremely
annoyed that you should have troubled yourself about
the business at all. As a matter of fact, what happened
is this. I went round to see those men at four o’clock,
as arranged on the ’phone, and they were really so
awfully decent about the whole thing that I had to
let them in for five thousand, and they wrote me their
cheque on the spot. Now, of course, you mustn't