“He supplies me with cocaine,” murmured the comedian. “His figure works out, as nearly as I can estimate it, at 10s 7½d. a grain. I saw him about it yesterday afternoon, pointing out to the brown guy that as the wholesale price is roughly 2¼d., I regarded his margin of profit as somewhat broad.”
“Indeed!”
“The first time I had ever seen him, Pyne. I brought an introduction from Dr. Silver, of New York, and Kazmah supplied me without question—at a price.”
“You always saw Rashîd?”
“Yes. If there were other visitors I waited. But yesterday I made a personal appointment with Kazmah. He pretended to think I had come to have a dream interpreted. He is clever, Pyne. He never moved a muscle throughout the interview. But finally he assured me that all the receivers in England had amalgamated, and that the price he charged represented a very narrow margin of profit. Of course he is a liar. He is making a fortune. Do you know him personally?”
“No,” replied Sir Lucien, “outside his Bond Street home of mystery he is unknown. A clever man, as you say. You obtain your opium from Lola?”
“Yes. Kazmah sent her to me. She keeps me on ridiculously low rations, and if I had not brought my own outfit I don’t think she would have sold me one. Of course, her game is beating up clients for the Limehouse dive.”
“You have visited ‘The House of a Hundred Raptures’?”
“Many times, at week-ends. Opium, like wine, is better enjoyed in company.”
“Does she post you the opium?”