The Truth

very heavy sack of cash,” said Vimes. “Yes, we noticed that, too. We’re not stupid. We only look stupid. Oh…and the guard said he smelled spirits on His Lordship’s breath.”
    “Does he drink?”
    “Not so’s you’d notice.”
    “He’s got a drinks cabinet in his office.”
    Vimes smiled. “You noticed that? He likes other people to drink.”
    “But all that might mean was that he was plucking up the courage to—” William began, and stopped. “No, that’s not Vetinari. He’s not that sort.”
    “No. He isn’t,” said Vimes. He sat back. “Perhaps you’d better… think again, Mr. de Worde. Maybe…maybe…you can find someone to help you think better.”
    Something in his manner suggested that the informal part of the discussion was well and truly over.
    “Do you know much about Mr. Scrope?” said William.
    “Tuttle Scrope? Son of old Tuskin Scrope. President of the Guild of Shoemakers and Leatherworkers for the past seven years,” said Vimes. “Family man. Old established shop in Wixon’s Alley.”
    “That’s all?”
    “Mr. de Worde, that’s all the Watch knows about Mr. Scrope. You understand? You wouldn’t want to know about some of the people we know a lot about.”
    “Ah.” William’s brow wrinkled. “But there’s not a shoe shop in Wixon’s Alley.”
    “I never mentioned shoes.”
    “In fact the only shop that is even, er, remotely connected with leather is—”
    “That’s the one,” said Vimes.
    “But that sells—”
    “Comes under the heading of leatherwork,” said Vimes, picking up his truncheon.
    “Well, yes …and rubber work, and…feathers…and whips…and…little jiggly things,” said William, blushing. “But—”
    “Never been in there myself, although I believe Corporal Nobbs gets their catalogue,” said Vimes. “I don’t think there’s a Guild of Makers of Little Jiggly Things, although it’s an interesting thought. Anyway, Mr. Scrope is all nice and legal, Mr. de Worde. Nice old family atmosphere, I understand. Makes buying…this and that, and little jiggly things…as pleasant as half a pound of humbugs, I don’t doubt. And what rumor is telling me is that the first thing nice Mr. Scrope will do is pardon Lord Vetinari.”
    “What? Without a trial?”
    “Won’t that be nice?” said Vimes, with horrible cheerfulness. “A good start to his term of office, eh? Clean sheet, fresh start, no sense in raking up unpleasantness. Poor chap. Overwork. Bound to crack. Didn’t get enough fresh air. And so on. So he can be put away in some nice quiet place and we’ll be able to stop worrying about this whole wretched affair. A bit of a relief, eh?”
    “But you know he didn’t—”
    “Do I?” said Vimes. “This is an official truncheon of office, Mr. de Worde. If it was a club with a nail in it, this’d be a different sort of city. I’m off now. You’ve been thinking, you tell me. Maybe you ought to think some more.”
    William watched him go.
    Sacharissa had pulled herself together, perhaps because no one was trying to comfort her anymore.
    “What are we going to do now?” she said.
    “I don’t know. Get a paper out, I suppose. That’s our job.”
    “But what happens if those men come back?”
    “I don’t think they will. This place is being watched now.”
    Sacharissa started to pick papers up off the floor. “I suppose I’ll feel better if I do something …”
    “That’s the spirit.”
    “If you can give me a few paragraphs about that fire…”
    “Otto got a decent picture,” said William. “Didn’t you, Otto?”
    “Oh yes. That vun is okay. But…”
    The vampire was staring down at his iconograph. It was smashed.
    “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said William.
    “I have ozzers.” Otto sighed. “You know, I thought it vould be easy in zer big city,” he said. “I thought it would be civilized. Zey told me mobs don’t come after you viz pitchforks in zer big city like zey do back in Schüschien. I mean, I try . Gods know I try. Three months, four days, and seven hours on zer vagon. I give up zer whole thing! Even zer pale ladies viz the velvet basques vorn on zer outside and zer fetching black lace dresses and zose little tiny, you know, high-heeled boots, and zat vas a wrench, I don’t mind telling you…” He shook his head miserably, and stared at his ruined shirt. “And stuff all gets broken and now my best shirt is all covered viz…blood…covered viz red, red blood …rich dark blood…zer