The Fifth Elephant (Discworld 24)

It was then that Constable Visit made his next mistake. He tried to smile.

"Well, it is a bit odd, sir - "

"Are you suggesting there is anything odd about me, constable?" said Captain Colon. "Is there anything about me that you finds funny?"

Visit stared at the mottled face speckled with ink. "Not a thing, sir."

"You"ve been working acceptably, constable," said Colon, standing slightly too close to Visit, "and therefore I don"t intend to be harsh with you. No one could call me an unfair man. You is demoted to lance-constable, understand? Your pay will be adjusted and backdated to the beginning of the month."

Visit saluted. It was probably the only way to get out of there alive. One of Colon"s eyes was twitching.

"However, you could redeem yourself," said Colon, "if you was to tell me who has been stealing, I said stealing, the sugar lumps."

"Sir?"

"I knows there was forty-three last night. I counted "em very thoroughly. There"s fortyone this morning, constable. And they"re locked in the desk. Can you explain that?"

If Visit had been suicidal and honest, he would have said: well, captain, while of course I think you have many worthy qualities, I have known you count your fingers twice arid come up with different answers.

"Er... mice?" he said weakly.

"Hah! Off you go, lance-constable, and just you think about what I said!"

When the dejected Visit had gone, Captain Colon sat down at his big, clean desk.

The little flickering part of his brain that was still sparking coherent thought through the fog of mind-numbing terror that filled Colon"s head was telling him that he was so far out of his depth that the fish had lights on their noses.

Yes, he did have a clean desk. But that was because he was throwing all the paperwork away.

It wasn"t that he was illiterate, but Fred Colon did need a bit of a think and a run-up to tackle anything much longer than a list and he tended to get lost in any word that had more than three syllables. He was, in fact, functionally literate. That is, he thought of reading and writing like he thought about boots - you needed them, but they weren"t supposed to be fun, and you got suspicious about people who got a kick out of them.

Of course, Mr Vimes had kept his desk piled high with paperwork, but it occurred to Colon that maybe Vimes and Carrot between them had developed a way of keeping just ahead of the piles, by knowing what was important and what wasn"t. To Colon, it was all gut-wrenchingly mysterious. There were complaints and memos and invitations, and letters requesting "a few minutes of your time" and forms to fill in, and reports to read, and sentences containing words like "iniquitous" and "immediate action", and they tottered in his mind like a great big wave, poised to fall on him.

The sane core of Colon was wondering if the purpose of officers wasn"t to stand between the sergeants and all this sh -  this slush, so that they could get on with sergeanting.

Captain Colon took a deep, wobbly breath.

On the other hand, if people were nicking the sugar lumps, no wonder things weren"t working properly! Get the sugar lumps right, and everything else would work out!

That made sense!

He turned and his eye caught the huge accusing heap of paperwork in the corner.

And the empty fireplace, too.

That was what officering was all about, wasn"t it? Making decisions!

Lance-Constable Visit walked dejectedly back down to the main office, which had filled up for a Watch change.

Everyone was clustered around one of the desks on which lay, looking slightly muddy, the Scone of Stone.

"Constable Thighbiter found it in Zephire Street, just lying there," said Sergeant Stronginthearm. "The thief must"ve got scared."

"A long way from the museum, though," said Reg Shoe. "Why lug it all the way across the city and leave it in a posh part of town where someone"s bound to trip over it?"

"Oh, woe is me, for I am undone," said Constable Visit, who felt he was playing a poor second fiddle to what he would call, if he had no use for his legs, a pagan image.

"Could be draughty," said Corporal Nobbs, a man of little sympathy.