66 The Diary of a Drug Fiend
“May I venture to suggest that you and Lady Pen-
dragon take supper with us at the Petit Savoyard ?”’
Haidée slipped her arm into mine, and Lou led the
way with Feccles.
“We were going there ourselves,” she told him,
“and it will be perfectly delightful to be with friends.
I see you're quite an old friend of my husband's.”
He began to tell her of the old school. As if by
accident, he gave an account of the circumstances
which had led to his leaving.
““ My old man was in the city, you know,” I heard
him say, ‘‘ and he dropped his pile ‘somewhere in Lom-
bard Street’’’ (he gave a false little laugh), ‘““ where he
couldn’t pick it up, so that was the end of my academic
career. He persuaded old Rosenbaum, the banker,
that I had a certain talent for finance, and got me.
a job as private secretary. I really did take to it like
a duck to water, and things have gone very well for me
ever since. But London isn’t the place for men with
real ambition. It doesn’t afford the scope. It’s either
Paris or New York for yours sincerely, Elgin Feccles.”
I don’t know why I didn’t believe a word of the tale ;
but I didn’t. The heroin was working beautifully. I
hadn’t the slightest inclination to talk to Haidée.
In the same way she took no notice of me. She never
uttered a word.
Lou was in the same condition. She was apparently
listening to what Feccles was saying; but she made
no remark, and preserved a total detachment. The
whole scene had not taken three minutes. We reached
the Petit Savoyard and took our seats.
The patron appeared to know our friends very well.
He welcomed them with even more than the usual
French fussiness. We sat down by the window.
The restaurant overhangs the steep slopes of the
Montmartre like an eyrie. We ordered supper, Feccles
with bright intelligence, the rest of us with utter listless-
ness. I looked at Lou across the table. I had never
seen the woman before in my life. She meant nothing