Diary of a Drug Fiend

The Giitter on the Snow 81 simply swept away by social engagements. I haven’t a thing for a week.” And just then the telephone rang. Lou did a two- step across to the instrument. “Qh, it’s for you, Mr. Feccles,” she said. ‘‘ However did any one know you were here? ”’ He gave his funny little laugh. “It’s just what I’ve been telling you, Lady Pen- dragon,” he said, as he walked over to the receiver. “I’m a very much wanted man. Every one seems. to want me but the police,” he giggled, ‘“ and they may get on to me any minute now, the Lord knows.” He became suddenly serious as he talked on the phone. “Oh, yes,” he said to the caller. “ Very annoying indeed. What’s that? Four o'clock? All right, ul be round.” He hung up. He came back to us radiant, holding out his hands. “My dear friends,” he said. ‘“ This is a special providence—nothing less. The lunch is off. If your invitation holds, I shall be the happiest man in Europe.” Well, of course, there couldn’t be two men like that in Europe. I was infernally bored. But there was nothing to do except to express the wildest joy. It didn’t add to my pleasure to see that Lou was really pleased. She broke out into a swift sonata. “‘ Let’s lunch up here,” she said. “‘ It’s more inteme, I hate feeding in public. I want to dance between the courses.” She rang down for the head-waiter while I gave Feccles a cigarette, lamenting my lack of forethought in not having insinuated a charge of trinitro-toluol amid the tobacco. Lou had a passionate controversy with the head waiter. She won on points at the end of the sixth round. — Half an hour later we started the gray caviare. I don’t know why every one has to rejoice on gray caviare; but it’s no use trying to interfere with the