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was surprised how quickly he came alive. He pushed back his chair, frowning. Then he looked at his wristwatch.
    'I have had a lot to do,' he said. 'We are pretty busy right now. I didn't realize it was as late as this.'
    I moved over to the desk as he got to his feet, ready to catch him. He swayed dangerously and I put out my hand and steadied him.
    'My foot's gone to sleep,' he muttered, leaning against me. He sat on the edge of the desk. 'Where's the car?'
    'Outside, in front, sir.'
    'Bring it around the back.' He waved to a door. 'I go out this way.'
    'Yes, sir.'
    I left the room, walked fast down the corridor, through the hall, feeling the eyes of the four lovelies watching me with concentrated interest, and down the steps to where I had left the car. I drove it around to the back of the building. As I got out Dester came slowly down the steps, supporting himself by hanging on to the rail.
    I got him into the car with some difficulty, and he lay back, sweat on his face, his eyes half closed.
    'Shall I take you home, sir?' I asked.
    The effort he had made to move himself from the office to the car proved too much for him. He seemed to go off into a coma: anyway he didn't look at me nor did he reply.
    I shut the car door and went around to the driver's seat. I drove down to the gate, passing a steady stream of people on their way home. They spotted the Rolls and paused to stare. I heard a girl say: 'There's Dester going home: bottled as usual,' and she giggled.
    I slightly increased the pace, but I couldn't drive as fast as I wanted to. Other people stared; other people had remarks to make. I was sweating by the time I slowed down while the guard opened the gate.
    This time he deigned to look at the car, and his eyes fell on Dester as he lay back against the cushioned headrest, his face the colour of a rotten tomato, his eyes glazed. The guard looked at me, grimaced, then spat in the road. Maybe he had every right to feel that way about it, but I was tempted to jump out of the car and knock his teeth down his throat.
    Once out on to the wide boulevard I trod on the gas, but even then people stared at the Rolls as it swept past them. They knew I was taking home a drunk; I could tell it by their jeering grins.
    It was a relief to get under cover of the drive-in of Dester's residence where no one could stare. I pulled up outside the house and got out, opening the car door.
    Dester sat rigid and motionless, his eyes once more fixed in that ghastly glaring stare. I tapped him on his knee.
    'We're home, sir.'
    I might just as well have been talking into a dead mike for all the reaction I got from him.
    I couldn't leave him in the car. I wasn't going to wait out there in the hot evening sunshine. I reached in, caught hold of his coat front, hauled him out and over my shoulder in a fireman's lift.
    He must have weighed over two hundred pounds, but I'm strong and I've lifted heavier things than Erle Dester, but not much heavier. I lurched up the steps, opened the front door, crossed the hall towards the stairs.
    Helen called from the lounge, 'Is that you, Erle? I want you.'
    There was a lilting jeer in her voice that told me she knew he was drunk. For a moment I hesitated, then I turned around and walked into the lounge with him like a sack of wheat over my shoulder.
    She was sitting in a deep chair, a tea tray at her side, a magazine on her lap. She was wearing what is called an afternoon gown of biscuit colour chiffon. She looked very beautiful and at ease as she stared up at me, lifting her sharply arched eyebrows.
    'Oh, it's you, Nash,' she said, ignoring my burden. 'I thought it was Mr. Dester.'
    I was tempted to swing him off my shoulder into her lap, but I restrained myself in time. My role at the moment was to be the perfect servant so she couldn't find any reason to sack me.
    'Yes, madam. I heard you call. I was about to put Mr. Dester to bed. He is a little unwell.'
    'How considerate of you. I was hoping he might be better