and uphill all the way.
He wasn"t going to make it. It must be gone five to six already.
The thought of it, the thought of that little face
"Mister Vimes!"
He turned. A mail coach had just pulled out on to the road
behind him and was coming up at a trot. Carrot was sitting beside
the driver and waving frantically at him.
"Get on the step, sir!" he yelled. "You don"t have much time!" Vimes started to run once more and, as the coach drew level,
jumped on to the door"s step and hung on.
"Isn"t this the mail coach to Quirm?" he shouted as the driver
urged the horses into a canter.
"That"s right, sir," said Carrot. "I explained it was a matter of
extreme importance."
Vimes redoubled his grip. The mail coaches had good horses.
The wheels, not very far away from him, were already a blur.
"How did you get here so quick?" he yelled. "Short cut through the Apothecary Gardens, sir!"
"What? That little walk by the river? That"s never wide enough for
a coach like this!"
"It was a bit of a squeeze, sir, yes. It got easier when the coach
lamps scraped off."
Vimes was now able to take in the state of the coach"s side. The
paintwork was scored all along it.
"All right," he shouted, "tell the driver I"ll meet the bills, of course!
But it"ll be wasted, Carrot. Park Lane"ll be jam-packed at this time
of day!"
"Don"t worry, sir! I should hang on very tight if I were you, sir!" Vimes heard the whip crack. This was a real mail coach. Mailbags
don"t care whether they"re comfortable. He could feel the
acceleration.
Park Lane would be coming up very soon. Vimes couldn"t see
much, because the wind of their flight was making his eyes water, but up ahead was one of the city"s most fashionable traffic jams. It was bad enough at any time of day, but early evening was particularly horrible, owing to the Ankh-Morpork belief that right of way was the prerogative of the heaviest vehicle or the gobbiest driver. There were minor collisions all the time, which were inevitably followed by both vehicles blocking the junction whilst the drivers got down to discussing road-safety issues with reference to the first weapon they could get their hands on. And it was into this maelstrom of jostling horses, scurrying pedestrians and cursing drivers that the mail coach was heading, apparently, at a full gallop.