Behind Vimes, Sergeant Colon shut his eyes.
'Dr James Folsom,' said Vimes.
It took a few seconds before someone worked this out. 'What? You can't mean... Doughnut Jimmy? He's a horse doctor!'
'So I understand,' said Vimes.
'But why?'
'Because many of his patients survive,' said Vimes. He raised his hands as the protests grew. 'And now, gentlemen, I must leave you. Somewhere there's a poisoner. I'd like to find him before he becomes a murderer.'
He went back up the stairs, trying to ignore the shouts behind him.
'You sure about old Doughnut, sir?' said Colon, catching him up.
'Well, do you trust him?' said Vimes.
'Doughnut? Of course not!'
'Right. He's untrustworthy, and so we don't trust him. So that's all right. But I've seen him revive a horse when everyone else said it was fit only for the knackers. Horse doctors have to get results, Fred.'
And that was true enough. When a human doctor, after much bleeding and cupping, finds that a patient has died out of sheer desperation, he can always say, 'Dear me, will of the gods, that will be thirty dollars please,' and walk away a free man. This is because human beings are not, technically, worth anything. A good racehorse, on the other hand, may be worth twenty thousand dollars. A doctor who lets one hurry off too soon to that great big paddock in the sky may well expect to hear, out of some dark alley, a voice saying something on the lines of 'Mr Chrysoprase is very upset', and find the brief remainder of his life full of incident.
'No one seems to know where Captain Carrot and Angua are,' said Colon. 'It's their day off. And Nobby's nowhere to be found.'
'Well, that's something to be thankful for...'
'Bingeley bingeley bong beep,' said a voice from Vimes's pocket.
He lifted out the little organizer and raised the flap.
'Yes?'
'Er ... twelve noon,' said the imp. 'Lunch with Lady Sybil.'
It stared at their faces.
'Er ... that's all right, isn't it?' it said.
Cheery Littlebottom wiped his brow.
'Commander Vimes is right. It could be arsenic,' he said. 'It looks like arsenic poisoning to me. Look at his colour.'
'Nasty stuff,' said Doughnut Jimmy. 'Has he been eating his bedding?'
'All the sheets seem to be here, so I suppose the answer is no.'
'How's he pissing?'
'Er. The usual way, I assume.'
Doughnut sucked at his teeth. He had amazing teeth. It was the second thing everyone noticed about him. They were the colour of the inside of an unwashed teapot.
'Walk him round a bit on the loose rein,' he said.
The Patrician opened his eyes. 'You are a doctor, aren't you?' he said.
Doughnut Jimmy gave him an uncertain look. He was not used to patients who could talk. 'Well, yeah ... I have a lot of patients,' he said.