The Truth

you’ve never seen us in your life—”
    “Ahem…” Mr. Slant coughed.
    “Your afterlife,” Mr. Pin corrected himself. “Okay. What about the money?”
    “As requested, thirty thousand dollars for special expenses will be included in the sum already agreed.”
    “In gems. Not cash.”
    “Of course. And my clients would hardly write you a check. It will be delivered tonight. And perhaps I should mention one other matter.” His dry fingers shuffled through the dry papers in his dry briefcase, and he handed Mr. Pin a folder.
    Mr. Pin read it. He turned a few pages quickly.
    “You may show it to your monkey,” said Mr. Slant.
    Mr. Pin managed to grab Mr. Tulip’s arm before it reached the zombie’s head. Mr. Slant did not even flinch.
    “He’s got the story of our lives, Mr. Tulip!”
    “So? I can still rip his —ing stitched-on head right off!”
    “No, you cannot,” said Mr. Slant. “Your colleague will tell you why.”
    “Because our legal friend here will have made a lot of copies, won’t you, Mr. Slant? And probably lodged them in all kinds of places in case he di—in case—”
    “…of accidents,” said Mr. Slant smoothly. “Well done. You have had an interesting career so far, gentlemen. You are quite young. Your talents have taken you a long way in a short time and given you quite a reputation in your chosen profession. While of course I have no idea about the task you are undertaking—no idea whatsoever, I must stress—I have no doubt that you will impress us all.”
    “Does he know about the contract in Quirm?” said Mr. Tulip.
    “Yes,” said Mr. Pin.
    “That stuff with the wire netting and the crabs and that —ing banker?”
    “Yes.”
    “And the thing with the puppies and that kid?”
    “He does now,” said Mr. Pin. “He knows nearly everything. Very clever. You believe you know where the bodies are buried, Mr. Slant.”
    “I’ve talked to one or two of them,” said Mr. Slant. “But it would appear that you have never committed a crime within Ankh-Morpork, otherwise, of course, I could not talk to you .”
    “Who says we’ve never committed a —ing crime in Ankh-Morpork?” Mr. Tulip demanded.
    “As I understand it, you have never been to this city before.”
    “Well? We’ve had all —ing day.”
    “Have you been caught?” said Mr. Slant.
    “No!”
    “Then you have committed no crime. May I express the hope that your business here does not involve any kind of criminal activity?”
    “Perish the thought,” said Mr. Pin.
    “The City Watch here are quite dogged in some respects. And the various Guilds jealously guard their professional territories.”
    “We hold the police in high regard,” said Mr. Pin. “We have a great respect for the work they do.”
    “We —ing love policemen,” said Mr. Tulip.
    “If there was a policeman’s ball, we would be among the first to buy a ticket,” said Mr. Pin.
    “’Specially if it was mounted on a plinth, or a little display stand of some sort,” said Mr. Tulip, “’cos we like beautiful things.”
    “I just wanted to be sure that we understood one another,” said Mr. Slant, snapping his case closed. He stood up, nodding to them, and walked stiffly out of the room.
    “What a—” Mr. Tulip began, but Mr. Pin raised a finger to his lips. He crossed silently to the door and opened it. The lawyer had gone.
    “He knows what we’re —ing here for,” Mr. Tulip whispered hotly. “What’s he —ing pretending for?”
    “Because he’s a lawyer,” said Mr. Tulip. “Nice place, this,” he added, in a slightly overloud voice.
    Mr. Tulip looked around.
    “Nah,” he said dismissively. “I fort that at the start, but it’s just a late eighteenth-century copy of the —ing Baroque Style. They got dimensions all wrong. Didja see them pillars in the hall? Didja? —ing sixth-century Ephebian with Second Empire Djelibeybian —ing finials! It was all I could do not to laugh.”
    “Yes,” said Mr. Pin. “As I have remarked before, Mr. Tulip, in many ways you are a very unexpected man.”
    Mr. Tulip walked over to a shrouded picture and tweaked the cloth aside. “Well, —me, it’s a —ing de Quirm,” he said. “I seen a print of it. Woman Holding Ferret. He did it just after he moved from Genua and was influenced by —ing Caravati. Look at that —ing brushwork, will ya? See the way the line of the hand draws the —ing eye into the picture? Look at the quality of the light on the landscape you