'Mr de Worde, that's all the Watch knows about Mr Scrope. You understand? You wouldn't want to know about some of the people we know a lot about,'
'Ah,' William's brow wrinkled. 'But there's not a shoe shop in Wixon's Alley.'
'I never mentioned shoes,'
'In fact the only shop that is even, er, remotely connected with leather is--'
That's the one,' said Vimes.
'But that sells--'
'Comes under the heading of leatherwork,' said Vimes, picking up his truncheon.
'Well, yes... and rubber work, and... feathers... and whips... and... little jiggly things,' said William, blushing. 'But--'
'Never been in there myself, although I believe Corporal Nobbs gets their catalogue,' said Vimes. 'I don't think there's a Guild of Makers of Little Jiggly Things, though it's an interesting thought. Anyway, Mr Scrope is all nice and legal, Mr de Worde. Nice old family atmosphere, I understand. Makes buying... this and that, and little jiggly things... as pleasant as half a pound of humbugs, I don't doubt. And what rumour is telling me is that the first thing nice Mr Scrope will do is pardon Lord Vetinari.'
'What? Without a trial?'
'Won't that be nice?' said Vimes, with horrible cheerfulness. 'A good start to his term of office, eh? Clean sheet, fresh start, no sense in raking up unpleasantness. Poor chap. Overwork. Bound to crack. Didn't get enough fresh air. And so on. So he can be put away in some nice quiet place and we'll be able to stop worrying about this whole wretched affair. A bit of a relief, eh?'
'But you know he didn't--'
'Do I?' said Vimes. This is an official truncheon of office, Mr de Worde. If it was a club with a nail in it this'd be a different sort of city. I'm off now. You've been thinking, you tell me. Maybe you ought to think some more.'
William watched him go.
Sacharissa had pulled herself together, perhaps because no one was trying to comfort her any more.
'What are we going to do now?' she said.
'I don't know. Get a paper out, I suppose. That's our job.'
'But what happens if those men come back?'
'I don't think they will. This place is being watched now.'
Sacharissa started to pick papers up off the floor. 'I suppose I'll feel better if I do something...'
That's the spirit.'
'If you can give me a few paragraphs about that fire
'Otto got a decent picture,' said William. 'Didn't you, Otto?'
'Oh yes. That vun is okay. But...'
The vampire was staring down at his iconograph. It was smashed.
'Oh, I'm so sorry,' said William.
'I have ozzers.' Otto sighed. 'You know, I thought it vould be easy in zer big city,' he said. 'I thought it would be civilized. Zey told me mobs don't come after you viz pitchforks in zer big city like zey do back in Schiischien. I mean, I try. Gods know I try. Three months, four days and seven hours on zer vagon. I give up zer whole thing! Even zer pale ladies viz the velvet basques vorn on zer outside and zer fetching black lace dresses and zose little tiny, you know, high-heeled boots - and zat vas a wrench, I don't mind telling you...' He shook his head miserably, and stared at his ruined shirt. 'And stuff all gets broken and now my
best shirt is all covered viz... blood... covered viz red, red blood... rich dark blood... zer blood... covered with zer blood... zer blood...'
'Quick!' said Sacharissa, pushing past William. 'Mr Goodmountain, you hold his arms!' She waved at the dwarfs. 'I was ready for this! Two of you hold his legs! Dozy, there's a huge blutwurst in my desk drawer!'
'... Let me valk in sunshine, Living not in vein...' Otto crooned.