'Can't the guards help?' Adora Belle ventured.
'I doubt it,' said Moist. 'Anyway, I don't particularly want to encourage the idea that they can spend the night breaking into the vault.'
'But they're mostly City Watch, aren't they?'
'So? When a man is legging it for the horizon with as much gold as he can carry he doesn't worry much about what his old job was. I'm a criminal. Trust me.'
He walked towards the stairs, counting under his breath.
'And now what are you doing?'
'Working out which part of the bank is directly over the gold,' said Moist. 'But you know what? I think I already know. The gold room is right under his desk.'
The lamp had burned low, and oily smoke swirled and settled on the sacks where Mr Bent lay curled up in a tight ball.
There was sound above, and voices muffled by the ancient ceiling. One of them said: 'I can't budge it. All right, Gladys, over to you.'
'Is This Ladylike Behaviour?' a second voice rumbled.
'Oh yes, it counts as moving the furniture,' said a voice that was clearly female.
'Very Well. I Shall Lift It Up And Dust Underneath It.'
There was the thunder of wood being scraped on wood, and a little dust fell on to the piled bullion.
'Very Dusty Indeed. I Shall Fetch A Broom.'
'Actually, Gladys, I'd like you to lift up the floor now,' said the first voice.
'There May Be Dust Underneath That Too?'
'I'm certain of it.'
'Very Well.'
There were several thumps that made the beams creak, and then a rumble of: 'It Does Not Say Anything About Dusting Under The Floor In Lady Waggons Book Of Household Management!
'Gladys, a man may be dying under there!'
'I See. That Would Be Untidy.' The beams rattled under a blow. 'Lady Waggon Says That Any Bodies Found During A Week-End Party Should Be Disposed Of Discreetly, In Case Of Scandal.'
Three more blows, and a beam shattered.
'Lady Waggon Says Watchmen Are Disrespectful And Do Not Wipe Their Dirty Boots.'
Another beam cracked. Light lanced down. A hand the size of a shovel appeared, grabbed one of the iron straps, and snapped it -
Moist peered into the gloom, while smoke poured up past him.
'He's down there! Ye gods, this reeks!'
Adora Belle looked over his shoulder. 'Is he alive?'
'I certainly hope so.' Moist eased himself between the beams and dropped on to the bullion boxes.
After a moment he called up: 'There's a pulse. And there's a key in the lock, too. Can you come down the stairs and give me a hand?'
'Er, we have visitors,' Adora Belle called down.