Diary of a Drug Fiend

222 The Diary of a Drug Fiend acts as if he had learnt some terrible secret which he had to keep from me. He always seems afraid of being spied on or overheard. I went up to the magic room to-night, Peter was sitting in the old man’s chair writing in a book. I couldn’t understand it at first. I had come straight up, and he was fast asleep downstairs! Then, of course, the whole mystery became clear. While he’s asleep, his astral double comes up and does magic. I knew it was very dangerous to disturb any one’s astral double, so I tiptoed out of the room ; but the double followed me noiselessly. Every time I looked over my shoulder he was there, though he was very quick at dodging back round the corner or into a doorway. ... Peter has been very preoccupied for some time. He writes out telegrams on forms, and then tears them up; and then he seems to think that isn’t safe, and picks the pieces up and burns them. I asked him about it; but he would say nothing, and got very angry. | I think I know what it is, though. I found a sheet of paper which he had forgotten to destroy—a letter to the War Office, warning them against German plots, and telling some things that have happened down here. I could hardly read it; his handwriting is absolutely gaga. He talks a great deal to himself. I overheard some of it. He thinks there may be a German spy in the War Office and is afraid to trust the post or telegraph. He kept on saying, “I’m at my wits’ end.” Then he went off into muttering about the plots against him. I am sure I could help him out if he would only trust me. I wonder if it’s all delusion on his part. He certainly has some funny ideas. For one thing, he pretends to see spiritual guides, which is impossible, because he is not pure enough.