184 The Diary of a Drug Fiend
They were witch-doctors with a licence from govern-
ment to torture and kill at extravagant prices. They
guarded their prerogatives with such ferocity because
they were aware of their own ignorance and incom-
petence; and if their victims found them out their
swindle would be swept away. They were always
trying to extend their tyranny. They were always
wanting new laws to compel everybody, sick or well,
to be bound to the vivisection table, and have some
essential organ of the body cut out. And they were
brazen enough to give the reason. They didn’t under-
stand what use it was! And everybody must be
injected with all sorts of disgusting serums and vaccines
ostensibly to protect them against some disease which
there was no reason whatever to suppose they were
likely to get. ...
_ The last three days have been too dreadful. This
is the first time I have felt like writing, and yet I have
been itching insanely to put down that hideously
‘luxurious scene when our love broke out like an abscess.
All the old fantastic features were there. They had
assumed a diabolical disguise ; but my mind has been
in abeyance. We shut the medical books with a
shudder, and slung them out of the window into the
street. A little crowd gathered ; they were picked up,
and the passers-by began talking about what was to
be done. We realised the rashness of our rage. The
last thing was to attract attention! We pulled
the frowsy old curtains across, and put out the
light.
The reaction of our reading was terrific. We
venomously contrasted the calm confidence of King
Lamus with the croaking clamour of the “ authori-
ties.’
Cockie summed up the situation with a quota-
tion.
“Quoth the Raven, ‘ Nevermore!’ ”
Our thoughts splashed to and fro like an angry sea
in a cave. These three days have been a flux of fugitive