Diary of a Drug Fiend

4 Knight Out 13 reminiscences, each of which appeared to him incredibly For about half a minute I resented him; then I let myself go and found myself soothed almost to slumber by the flow of his talk. A wonderful man, like an imbecile child nine-tenths of the time, and yet, at the back of it all, one somehow saw the deep night of his mind suffused with faint sparks of his genius. I had not the slightest idea where he was taking me ; I did not care. I had gone to sleep inside. I woke to find myself sitting in the Café Wisteria once more. The head waiter was excitedly explaining to my companion what a wonderful scene he had missed. “ Mr. Fordham, he nearly kill’ ze Lord,” he bubbled, wringing his fat hands. ‘ He nearly kill’ ze Lord.” Something in the speech tickled my sense of ir- reverence. I broke into a high-pitched shout of laughter. “Rotten,” said my companion. “ Rotten! That fellow Fordham never seems to make a clean job of it anyhow. Say, look here, thisis my night out. You go ’way like a good boy, tell all those boys and girls come and have dinner.” The waiter knew well enough who was meant; and presently I found myself shaking hands with several perfect strangers in terms which implied the warmest and most unquenchable affection. It was really rather a distinguished crowd. One of the men was a fat German Jew, who looked at first sight like a piece of canned pork that has got mislaid too long in the summer. . But the less he said the more he did; and what he did is one of the greatest treasures of mankind. Then there was a voluble, genial man with a shock of gray hair and a queer twisted smile on his face. He looked like a character of Dickens. But he had done more to revitalise the theatre than any other man of his time. I took a dislike to the women. They seemed so unworthy of the men. Great men seem to enjoy going