The Fifth Elephant

believe I’ve solved a little mystery.”
    “Oh no …” the dog moaned.
    “That’s not being a good dog, Gaspode,” said Carrot, lifting the dog so they could meet eye to eye.
    “All right, all right, put me down, will you? This hurts, you know.”
    “I need your help, Gaspode.”
    “Not me. I don’t help the Watch. Nothing personal, but it doesn’t do anything for my street cred.”
    “I’m not talking about helping the Watch, Gaspode. This is personal. I need your nose.” Carrot lowered the dog to the pavement, and rubbed his hand on his shirt. “Unfortunately, this means I need the rest of you as well, although of course I am aware that under that itchy exterior beats a heart of gold.”
    “Really,” said Gaspode. “ Nothing good starts with ‘I need your help.’”
    “It’s Angua.”
    “Oh dear.”
    “I want you to track her.”
    “Huh, not many dogs could track a werewolf, mister. They’re cunning. ”
    “Always go to the best, I always say,” said Carrot.
    “Finest nose known to man or beast,” said Gaspode, wrinkling it. “Where’s she gone, then?”
    “To Uberwald, I think.”
    Carrot moved fast. Gaspode’s flight was hindered by the hand gripping his tail.
    “That’s hundreds of miles away! And dog miles is seven times longer! Not a chance!”
    “Oh? All right, then. Silly of me to suggest it,” said Carrot, letting go. “You’re right. It’s ridiculous.”
    Gaspode turned, suddenly full of suspicion.
    “No, I didn’t say it was ridiculous,” he said. “I just said it was hundreds of miles away…”
    “Yes, but you said you had no chance.”
    “No, I said that you had no chance of getting me to do it.”
    “Yes, but winter’s coming on and, as you say, a werewolf is very hard to track and on top of that Angua’s a copper. She’ll work out that I’d use you, so she’ll be covering her trail.”
    Gaspode whined. “Look, mister, respect is hard to earn in this dog’s town. If I’m not smelled around the lampposts for a couple of weeks my stock is definitely in the gutter, right?”
    “Yes, yes, I understand. I’ll make some other arrangements. Nervous Nigel’s still around, isn’t he?”
    “What? That spaniel? He couldn’t smell his own bottom if you put it in front of him!”
    “They say he’s pretty good, nasally.”
    “And he widdles every time anyone looks at him!” snapped Gaspode.
    “I heard he can smell a dead rat two miles away.”
    “Yeah? Well, I can smell what color it is!”
    Carrot sighed. “Well, I’ve got no choice, I’m afraid. You can’t do it, so I’ll—”
    “I didn’t say—” Gaspode stopped, and then went on. “I’m going to do it, aren’t I? I’m bloody well going to do it. You’re going to trick me or blackmail me or whatever it takes, aren’t you…”
    “Yes. How do you manage to write, Gaspode?”
    “I holds the chalk in me mouth. Easy.”
    “You’re a smart dog. I’ve always said so. The world’s only talking dog, too.”
    “Lower your voice, lower your voice!” said Gaspode, looking around. “Here, Uberwald’s wolf country, isn’t it?”
    “Oh yes.”
    “I could’ve bin a wolf, you know. With diff’rent parents, of course.”
    Gaspode sniffed, and looked furtively up and down the street again.
    “Steak?”
    “Every night.”
    “Right.”

    Sergeant Colon was a picture of misery, drawn on a lumpy pavement in bad crayon on a wet day. He sat on a chair and occasionally glanced at the message which had just been delivered, as if hoping that the words would somehow fade away.
    “Bloody hell, Nobby,” he moaned.
    “There, there, Fred…” said Nobby, currently a vision in organdy.
    “I can’t be promoted! I’m not an officer! I am base, common and popular!”
    “I’ve always said that about you, Fred. You got common off to a treat.”
    “But it’s writ down, Nobby! Look, His Lordship’s signed it!”
    “We-ell, the way I see it, you’ve got three choices,” said Nobby.
    “Yeah?”
    “You can go and tell him you’re not doing it…”
    The panic in Colon’s face was replaced by glazed gray terror.
    “Thank you very much, Nobby,” he said bitterly. “Let me know if you’ve got any more suggestions like that, ’cos I’ll need to go and change my underwear.”
    “Or you could accept it and make such a screw-up of it that he takes it away from you…”
    “You’re doing this on purpose, Nobby!”
    “Might be worth a try, Fred.”
    “Yeah, but the thing about