'Makes it easier to get the rings off, mind you—'
'The point is, Nobby, that you can tell how old a corpse is. That clown, for e.g. You saw him, same as me. How long, would you say?'
'About 5' 9", I'd say. His boots didn't fit, I know that. Too floppy.'
'I meant how long he'd been dead.'
'Couple of days. You can tell because there's this—'
'So how come Boffo saw him yesterday morning?'
They strolled onwards.
'Bit of a poser, that is,' said Nobby.
'You're right. I expect the captain'll be very interested.'
'Maybe he was a zombie?'
'Shouldn't think so.'
'Never could stand zombies,' Nobby mused.
'Really?'
'It was always so hard to nick their boots.'
Sergeant Colon nodded at a passing beggar.
'You still doing the folk dancing on your nights off, Nobby?'
'Yes, Fred. We're practising “Gathering Sweet Lilacs” this week. There is a very complicated double crossover-step.'
'You're definitely a man of many parts, Nobby.'
'Only if I couldn't cut the rings off, Fred.'
'What I mean is, you presents an intriguing dichotomy.'
Nobby took a kick at a small scruffy dog.
'You been reading books again, Fred?'
'Got to improve my mind, Nobby. It's these new recruits. Carrot's got his nose in a book half the time, Angua knows words I has to look up, even the shortarse is brighter'n me. They keep on extracting the urine. I'm definitely a bit under-endowed in the head department.'
'You're brighter than Detritus,' said Nobby.
'That's what I tell myself. I say, “Fred, whatever happens, you're brighter than Detritus.” But then I say, “Fred – so's yeast.'”
He turned away from the window.
So. The damn Watch!
That damn Vimes! Exactly the wrong man in the wrong place. Why didn't people learn from history? Treachery was in his very genes! How could a city run properly with someone like that, poking around? That wasn't what a Watch was for. Watchmen were supposed to do what they were told, and see to it that other people did too.
Someone like Vimes could upset things. Not because he was clever. A clever Watchman was a contradiction in terms. But sheer randomness might cause trouble. The gonne lay on the table. 'What shall I do about Vimes?' Kill him.
Angua woke up. It was almost noon, she was in her own bed at Mrs Cake's, and someone was knocking at the door.