Diary of a Drug Fiend

188 The Diary of a Drug Fiend the effect. But he motioned me silently into my usual arm-chair, lit a cigarette for me and put it into my mouth, switched in the electric kettle for tea, and sat on the corner of his big square table swinging his leg. His eyes were absolutely motionless; yet I felt that they were devouring my body and soul inch by inch. I wriggled on my chair as I used to do at school when I didn’t feel sure whether I had been found out in something or not. I tried to cover my confusion by starting a light conversation ; but I soon gave it up. He was taking no notice of my remarks. To him they were simply one of my symptoms. I realised with frightful certitude that my plans were impossible. I couldn’t fool this man, I couldn’t play on his passions, I couldn’t stealin his presence. Despite myself, my lie had become the truth. I could only do what I said I was coming to do; to ask him to help me out. No, not even that. I had not got rid of Peter after all. . With King Lamus, I found I couldn’t think of myself. I had to think of Peter. I was absolutely sincere when I said with a break in my voice, ‘‘ Cockie’s in an awful mess.’ I had it in my mind to add, “ Can’ t you do some- thing to help him ? ” and then I changed it to ‘' Won't you?” and then I couldn’t say it at all. I knew it was wasting words. I knew that he could and he would. He came over and sat on the arm of my chair, and took down my hair, and began playing with the plaits. The action was as absolutely natural and innocent as a kitten playing with a skein of wool. | It stabbed my vanity to the heart for a second to realise that he could do a thing like that without mixing it up with sexual ideas. Yet it was that very superiority to human instincts that made me trust him. “Sir Peter’s not here,” he said lightly and kindly. I knew that it had pleased him that I had not mentioned my own troubles.