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.