Diary of a Drug Fiend

IIO The Diary of a Drug Fiend ‘Oh, I see,” said Lou wisely and bent over to him and whispered in his ear. The words were :— ** Secret Service." “That’s it,” said Feccles softly. ‘‘ And this is where you come in. Look here.” He brought out a passport from his pocket and opened it. He was Monsieur Hector Laroche, of Geneva, so it appeared; by profession a courier. We nodded comprehensively. “I was rather at my wits’ end when I saw you,” he went on. “I’m on the trail of a very dangerous man who has got into the confidence of some English people living in Capri. That’s where you're going, isn’t it ? ” “ Yes,”’ we said, feeling ourselves of international importance. “‘ Well, it’s like this. If I turn up in Capri, which is a very small place, without a particularly good excuse, people will look at me and talk about me, and if they look too hard and talk too much, it’s ten to one I’m spotted,.not necessarily for what I am, but as a stranger of suspicious character. And if the man I’m after gets on his guard, there'll be absolutely nothing doing.” ‘" Yes,” I said, ‘I see all that, but—well, we’d do anything for good old England—goes without saying, but how can we help you out?” _ “* Well,”’ said Feccles, ‘I don’t see why it should put you out very much. You needn't even see me. But if I could pose as your courier, go ahead and book your rooms and look after your luggage and engage boats and that sort of thing for you, I shouldn’t need to be explained. As things are, it might even save you trouble. They’re the most frightful brigands round here ; and anything that looks like a tourist, especially of the honeymoon species, is liable to all sorts of bother and robbery.” Well, the thing did seem almost providential ; asa matter of fact, I had been thinking of getting a man