Making Money

Vetinari went on, looking at a letter covered with grubby fingerprints and what looked like the remains of someone’s breakfast. He added: “In some cases, I imagine, there is a lot of room.”
    “Frank and Dave manage to sort out five out of every six,” said Moist.
    “They are veritable magicians,” said Vetinari. He turned to the men, who smiled nervously and backed away, leaving the smiles hanging awkwardly in the air, as protection. He added: “But I think it is time for their tea break?”
    The two looked at Drumknott, who was pouring tea into two cups.
    “Somewhere else?” Vetinari suggested.
    No express delivery had ever moved faster than Frank and Dave. When the door had shut behind them, Vetinari went on: “You have looked around the bank? Your conclusions?”
    “I think I’d rather stick my thumb in a mincing machine than get involved with the Lavish family,” said Moist. “Oh, I could probably do things with it, and the Mint needs a good shaking. But the bank needs to be run by someone who understands banks.”
    “People who understand banks got it into the position it is in now,” said Vetinari. “And I did not become ruler of Ankh-Morpork by understanding the city. Like banking, the city is depressingly easy to understand. I have remained ruler by getting the city to understand me.”
    “I understood you, sir, when you said something about angels, remember? Well, it worked. I am a reformed character and I will act like one.”
    “Even as far as the goldish chain?” said Vetinari, as Drumknott handed him a cup of tea.
    “Damn right!”
    “Mrs. Lavish was very impressed with you.”
    “She said I was an out-and-out crook!”
    “High praise indeed, coming from Topsy,” said Vetinari. He sighed. “Well, I can’t force such a reformed person as you to—” he paused as Drumknott leaned down to whisper in his ear, and then continued, “—well, clearly I can force you, but on this occasion I don’t think I will. Drumknott, take this down, please. ‘I, Moist von Lipwig, wish to make it clear that I have no desire or intention to run or be involved in the running of any bank in Ankh-Morpork, preferring instead to devote my energies to the further improvement of the Post Office and the clacks system.’ Leave a space for Mr. Lipwig’s signature and the date. And then—”
    “Look, why is this necessary—” Moist began.
    “—continue: ‘I, Havelock Vetinari, etc. confirm that I have indeed discussed the future of the Ankh-Morpork banking system with Mr. Lipwig and fully accept his express wish to continue his fine work at the Post Office, freely and without hindrance or penalty.’ Space for signature, etc. Thank you, Mr. Lipwig.”
    “What is all that about?” said Moist, bewildered.
    “The Times seems to think I intend to nationalize the Royal Bank,” said Vetinari.
    “Nationalize?” said Moist.
    “Steal,” Vetinari translated. “I don’t know how these rumors get about.”
    “I suppose even tyrants have enemies?” said Moist.
    “Well put as usual, Mr. Lipwig,” said Vetinari, giving him a sharp look. “Give him the memorandum to sign, Drumknott.”
    Drumknott did so, taking care to retrieve the pencil afterward with a rather smug look. Then Vetinari stood up and brushed off his robe.
    “I well recall our interesting conversation about angels, Mr. Lipwig, and I recall telling you that you only get one,” he said, a little stiffly. “Do bear that in mind.”

    “IT WOULD APPEAR that the leopard does change his shorts, sir,” mused Drumknott, as the evening mist drifted, waist-high, along the street.
    “It would appear so, indeed. But Moist von Lipwig is a man of appearances. I’m sure he believes everything he said, but one must look beyond the surface to the Lipwig beneath, an honest soul with a fine criminal mind.”
    “You have said something similar before, sir,” said the secretary, holding open the coach door, “but it seems that honesty has got the better of him.”
    Vetinari paused with his foot on the step.
    “Indeed, but I take some heart, Drumknott, from the fact that, once again, he has stolen your pencil.”
    “In fact he has not, sir, because I was most careful to put it in my pocket!” said Drumknott, in some triumph.
    “Yes,” said Vetinari happily, sinking into the creaking leather as Drumknott started to pat himself down with an increasing desperation, “I know.”

    THERE WERE GUARDS in the bank at night. They patrolled the