'What about the show? We can't just stop! You never stop the show, not even if someone dies!'
'Oh, we have stopped when people died. . .'
'Yes, but only as long as it took to get the body off-stage!' Agnes stepped back into the wings, and trod on something. 'Sorry,' she said automatically. 'It was only my foot,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'So. . . how is life in the big city, Agnes Nitt?' Agnes turned. 'Oh. . . hello, Granny. . .' she mumbled. 'And I'm not Agnes here, thank you,' she added, a shade more defiantly. 'It's a good job, is it, bein' someone else's voice?'
'I'm doing what I want to do,' said Agnes. She drew herself up to her full width. 'And you can't stop me!'
'But you ain't part of it, are you?' said Granny conversationally. 'You try, but you always find yourself watchin' yourself watchin' people, eh? Never quite believin' anything? Thinkin' the wrong thoughts?'
'Shut up!'
'Ah. Thought so.'
'I have no intention of becoming a witch, thank you very much!'
'Now, don't go getting upset just because you know it's going to happen. A witch you're going to be because a witch you are, and if you turn your back on him now then I don't know what's going to happen to Walter Plinge.'
'He's not dead?' No. Agnes hesitated. 'I knew he was the Ghost,' she began. 'But then I saw he couldn't be.'
'Ah,' said Granny. 'Believed the evidence of your own eyes, did you? In a place like this?'
'One of the stage-hands just told me they chased him up on to the roof and then down into the street and beat him to death!'
'Oh, well,' said Granny, 'you'll never get anywhere if you believe what you hear. What do you know?'
'What do you mean, what do I know?'
'Don't try cleverness on me, miss.' Agnes looked at Granny's expression, and knew when to fold. 'I know he's the Ghost,' she said. 'Right.'
'But I can see that he isn't.'
'Yes?'
'And I know. . . I'm pretty sure he doesn't mean any harm.'
'Good. Well done. Walter might not know his right from his left, but he does know his right from his wrong.' Granny rubbed her hands together. 'Well, we're already home and looking for a clean towel, eh?'
'What? You haven't solved anything!'
' 'Course we have. We know that it wasn't Walter what done the murders, so now we just have to find out who it was. Easy.'
'Where's Walter now?'
'Nanny's got him somewhere.'
'She's all by herself?'
'I told you, she's got Walter.'
'I meant. . . well, he's a bit strange.'
'Only where it shows.' Agnes sighed, and started to say that it wasn't her problem. And realized it was useless even to try. The knowledge sat like a smug intruder in her mind. Whatever it was, it was her problem. 'All right,' she said. 'I'll help you if I can, because I'm here. But afterwards. . . that's it! Afterwards, you'll leave me alone. Promise?'
'Certainly.'
'Well. . . all right, then. . .' Agnes stopped. 'Oh, no,' she said. 'That was too easy. I don't trust you.'
'Don't trust me?' said Granny. 'You're saying you don't trust me?'