I was consumed with rage. Oh sure, I was also embarrassed, confused,heartsick and frightened, but above all else, I was angry. I stormedinto Jeff's ro...m, trying to ignore the fact that I looked a little likea model in a Playboy spread. I threw open Jeff's door, ignoring the loud"sprong" that sounded when it hit the door stop at full speed. "Jeff!"I demanded of the sleeping figure through my gritted teeth. "What thefuck have you done to me?" Huh?" He rolled over, the sheets wrapped carelessly. We called him Big Ben, not just because he was six foot six and built like a second row forward, but because of his voice. He boomed – he never shouted – it was just a loud voice, which carried for miles."If he's got a wife I bet she's as deaf as a post from him whispering sweet nothings in her ear." Rumpole remarked.I didn't know if Big Ben was married or not, but he never lacked for female company. He was a throwback to the Edwardian age, with his mutton chop whiskers, his flowery language –. More

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