He raised the gonne and, gently, let the tension ease out of his hand.
A bell started.
It was a tinny, jolly little tune, barely to be heard at all except in this pool of silence . . .
Cling, bing, a-bing, bong . . .
. . . but much more accurate than hourglasses, water-clocks and pendulums.
'Put down the gonne, captain,' said Carrot, climbing slowly up the stairs.
He held his sword in one hand, and the presentation watch in the other.
. . . bing, bing, a-bing, ding . . .
Vimes didn't move.
'Put it down. Put it down now, captain.'
'I can wait out another bell,' said Vimes . . . a-bing, a-bing . . .
'Can't let you do that, captain. It'd be murder.'
. . . clong, a-bing . . .
'You'll stop me, will you?'
'Yes.'
. . . bing . . . bing . . .
Vimes turned his head slightly.
'He killed Angua. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'
. . . bing . . . bing . . . bing . . . bing . . .
Carrot nodded.
'Yes. But personal isn't the same as important.'
Vimes looked along his arm. The face of Dr Cruces, mouth open in terror, pivoted on the tip of the barrel. . . . bing . . . bing . . . bing . . . bing . . . bing . . .
'Captain Vimes?' . . . bing.
'Captain? Badge 177, captain. It's never had more than dirt on it.'
The pounding spirit of the gonne flowing up Vimes' arms met the armies of sheer stone-headed Vimesness surging the other way.
'I should put it down, captain. You don't need it,' said Carrot, like someone speaking to a child.
Vimes stared at the thing in his hands. The screaming was muted now.
'Put that down now, Watchman! That's an order!'
The gonne hit the floor. Vimes saluted, and then realized what he was doing. He blinked at Carrot.
'Personal isn't the same as important?' he said.