Snuff

letting your professional concerns get in the way of our holiday. I may, at times, have been somewhat … blunt.’
    ‘Not at all, Sybil, I fully understood your concern.’
    It seemed that Lady Sybil really could have done with some cough drops, but she carried on carefully and said, ‘Sam, I’d be very grateful if you could see your way clear to perhaps taking Willikins with you to wherever it is that these scoundrels poison the world with their existence, and bring them to justice, if you would be so good.’
    He could feel her trembling with rage and said, ‘I was considering doing so as soon as possible, my dear, but I must tell you that things may not go entirely in accordance with the rulebook. After all, I’m out of my jurisdiction here.’
    But his wife said, ‘You’re a stickler for the book, Sam, and I admire that, but the jurisdiction of a good man extends to the end of the world – though who will you take them to? Havelock would hang them, you know that. But he’s a long way away. Nonetheless, Sam, I am certain of one thing and it’s this: the worst thing you can do is nothing. Go to it, Sam.’
    ‘Actually, Sybil, I was considering delivering them to the local justices.’
    ‘What? They’re a terrible bunch, apparently using what they call the law here for their own ends! There’ll be an enormous stink!’
    Vimes smiled. ‘Oh dear, do you really think so?’
    There was no point going to bed, thought Vimes later that evening, and so he kissed his wife goodnight and went to the snooker room where Willikins was idly practising one of the more socially acceptable skills he had learned during a misspent youth. The man straightened up when Vimes walked in and said, ‘Good evening, commander. Would you like a sustaining drink to be going on with?’
    Vimes also indulged in a rare cigar because, well, what good is a snooker room without smoke twisting among the lights and turning the air a desolate blue, the colour of dead hopes and lost chances?
    Willikins, who knew the protocol, waited until Vimes had made his shot before coughing gently. ‘Oh, well done, sir, and I understand her ladyship is somewhat vexed about the goblin situation, sir. I believe this to be the case, sir, because I met her in the corridor earlier and she used language I haven’t heard on the lips of a woman since my old mother passed away, gods bless her soul, if they can find it. But, well done again, sir.’
    Vimes laid his cue aside. ‘I want to get them all, Willikins. It’s no good slamming up some local thug.’
    ‘Yes indeed, commander, it’s all about potting the black.’
    Vimes looked up from his fiery drink. ‘I can see you must have played a lot in your time, Willikins. Did you ever see Pelvic Williams? Very religious man in his way, lived somewhere in Hen-and-Chickens Court with his sister, played like I’ve never seen anyone else play before or since. I swear he could make a ball jump the table, roll along the edge and drop back on to the cloth just where he wanted it, to drop neatly into the pocket.’ Vimes gave a grunt of satisfaction, and went on, ‘Of course, everyone used to say that was cheating, but he used to stand there, as meek as milk, just repeating “The ball dropped”. Tell you the truth, the reason he never got beaten up was that it was an education watching the man. He once sank a ball by bouncing it off the lamp and a pint mug. But, like he said, the ball dropped.’ Vimes relaxed and said, ‘The trouble is, of course, that in real life rules are more stringent.’
    ‘Yes indeed, commander,’ said Willikins. ‘Where I used to play the only rule was that after you’d hit your opponent over the head with your cue you had to be able to run very fast. I understand from her ladyship that you might be requiring my assistance tonight?’
    ‘Yes, please. We’re going to the village of Hangnails. It’s about twenty miles upriver.’
    Willikins nodded. ‘Yes indeed, sir, once the seat of the Hangnail family and most notably of Lord Justice Hangnail, who famously declared that he never took account of any plea of not guilty on the basis that “criminals always lie” and was, by happy chance, the Worshipful Master of the Benevolent Company of Rope Makers and Braiders. With any luck, we’ll not see his like again.’
    ‘Excellent, Willikins, and we’ll stop en route to pick up our keen young local constable, who’ll see fair play. I intend to make sure of that.’
    ‘Glad to