Snuff

don’t really know anything about that. No boat on the river called the Queen.”
    Vimes left it at that. It was a result. Not the best result. Nothing that would satisfy Vetinari, but a hint at least of a minor conspiracy to send Jethro to somewhere he did not want to be. Vimes at least had to be satisfied.
    Vimes realized that Flutter was holding up his hand cautiously, like a child half-fearful of a reprimand from the teacher.
    â€œYes, Ted?” he said wearily.
    The man lowered his hand. “Will I be able to find a god, sir?”
    â€œWhat? Find what god?”
    Flutter looked embarrassed but recovered manfully. “Well, sir, I’m hearing about people who go into prison and find a god, sir, and if you find a god then you get better treatment and maybe you get let out sooner, on account of praying, and I was wondering if I was in the Watch House that there might be more or less chance of god availability, if you get my drift. I don’t want to be a trouble, of course.”
    â€œWell, Ted, if there was any justice in the universe I think there would be quite a few gods in the Tanty, but if I were you and faced a choice between the possibility of heavenly intervention, and a definite three meals a day that haven’t been spat on and no big blokes snoring in your ear all night and the certain knowledge that if you have to go down on your knees then it will only be to pray, then I would say heaven can wait.”
    The sun was already well up now and Willikins was keeping them moving at a good pace. Vimes took notice of that fact. The Street was talking to him even if it was in fact nothing more than a wide lane. He nudged Feeney awake. “Soon be home now, lad, and I think Mr. Flutter can be housed in your lovely lockup, don’t you?”
    Flutter looked puzzled, and Vimes said, “Good grief, man. Surely you didn’t think I could rush you all the way to Ankh-Morpork in one go? As it is I’ll have to send someone to get someone else to come all the way down here with the hurry-up wagon! Don’t worry, the lockup is strong and cozy and made of stone, plus—and I’m led to believe that this is indeed a big plus, this—Mrs. Upshot will probably make you a delicious Bang Suck Muck Muck Dog, with carrots and garden peas. Speciality de Maisonette.”

R ank has its privileges, Vimes thought, when he alighted near the old lockup a little later. “Chief Constable Upshot, please settle our prisoner down, see that he gets fed and watered and so on and so forth, okay, and, obviously, do the paperwork.”
    â€œThe what, sir?”
    Vimes blinked. “Is it possible, Mr. Feeney, that you don’t know what paperwork is?”
    Feeney was perplexed. “Well, yes, sir, of course, but generally I just jot down the name in my notebook, sir. I mean, I know who he is, and I know where he is and what he’s done. Oh, yes, and since the trouble we had with old Mr. Parsley, after he had a skinful, I also make certain to check if the prisoner is allergic to anything in Bhangbhangduc cuisine. It took me all day to clean out the place, on account of there’d been a tiny bit of winky.” Seeing Vimes’s expression, he went on, “Very popular herb, sir.”
    â€œ Habeas corpus , lad! You want to be the copper here, right? Then Mr. Flutter is your prisoner! You are responsible for him. If he gets ill, then he is your problem, if he dies then he is your corpse, and if he gets out and away then you would find yourself in a situation so problematical that the word ‘problem’ just would not fit the situation. I’m trying to be helpful, honestly, but I could just as easily take him up to the Hall. We’ve got loads of cellars and we could easily bed him down in one of them, no problem. But then if I have to do that, what good are you?”
    Feeney looked shocked. He pulled himself upright. “I wouldn’t hear of that, sir, and neither would my ancestors, sir. After all, we’ve never had anyone who has even been near a murder.”
    â€œVery well, then, give me a receipt for the prisoner, which is a very important thing, and I’ll go back to the Hall to have a nap.”
    Vimes stepped back as a riverboat came into view and a very small tidal wave of muddy water splashed gently on the little quayside. The boat was another one with paddle wheels; Sybil had explained all about them. An ox patiently trod its way