Thud!

scoff, Sarge, but there’s a lot goes on that we don’t know about.”
    “Like what, exactly?” Colon retorted. “Name me one thing that’s going on that you don’t know about. There—you can’t, can you?”
    Sir Reynold cleared his throat. “That is certainly one of the theories,” he said, speaking carefully, as people tended to after hearing the Colon-Nobbs Brains Trust crossing purposes. “Regrettably, Methodia Rascal’s notes support just about any theory one may prefer. The current populariteah of the painting is, I suspect, because the book does indeed revisit the old story that there’s some huge secret hidden in the painting.”
    “Oh?” said Fred Colon, perking up. “What kind of secret?”
    “I have no idea. The landscape hwas painted in great detail. A pointer to a secret cave, perhaps? Something about the positioning of some of the combatants? There are all kinds of theories. Rather strange people come along with tape measures and rather hworryingly intent expressions, but I don’t think they ever find anything.”
    “Perhaps one of them pinched it?” Nobby suggested.
    “I doubt it. They tend to be rather furtive individuals who bring sandwiches and a flask and stay here all day. The sort of people who love anagrams and secret signs and have little theories and pimples. Probably quite harmless except to one another. Besides, hwhy steal it? We lik e people to take an interest in it. I don’t think that kind of person hwould hwant to take it home, because it hwould be too large to fit under the bed. Did you know that Rascal hwrote that sometimes in the night he heard screams? The noise of battle, one is forced to assume. So sad.”
    “Not something you’d want over the fireplace, then,” said Fred Colon.
    “Precisely, Sergeant. Even if it hwere possible to have a fireplace fifty feet long.”
    “Thank you, sir. One other thing, though. How many doors are there in this place?”
    “Three,” said Sir Reynold promptly. “But two are always locked.”
    “But if the troll—”
    “—or the dwarfs,” said Nobby.
    “Or, as my junior colleague points out, the dwarfs tried to get it out—”
    “Gargoyles,” said Sir Reynold proudly. “Two hwatch the main door constantleah from the building opposite, and there’s one each on the other doors. And there are staff on during the day, of course.”
    “This may sound a silly question, sir, but have you looked everywhere?”
    “I’ve had the staff searching all morning, Sergeant. It hwould be a very big and very heavy roll. This place is full of odd corners, but it hwould be very obvious.”
    Colon saluted. “Thank you, sir. We’ll just have a look around, if you don’t mind.”
    “Yes, for urns,” said Nobby Nobbs.

V imes eased himself into his chair and looked at the damned vampire. She could have passed for sixteen; it was certainly hard to believe that she was not a lot younger than Vimes. She had short hair, which Vimes had never seen on a vampire before, and looked, if not like a boy, then like a girl who wouldn’t mind passing for one.
    “Sorry about the…remark down there,” he said. “It’s not been a good week and it’s getting worse by the hour.”
    “You don’t have to be frightened,” said Sally. “If it’s any help, I don’t like this any more than you do.”
    “I am not frightened,” said Vimes sharply.
    “Sorry, Mr. Vimes. You smell frightened. Not badly ,” Sally added. “But just a bit. And your heart is beating faster. I am sorry if I have offended you. I was just trying to put you at your ease.”
    Vimes leaned back. “Don’t try to put me at my ease, Miss von Humpeding,” he said. “It makes me nervous when people do that. It’s not as though I have any ease to be put at. And do not comment on my smell, either, thank you. Oh, and it’s Commander Vimes, or ‘sir,’ understand? Not ‘Mister Vimes.’ ”
    “And I would prefer to be called Sally,” said the vampire.
    They looked at each other, both aware that this was not going well, both uncertain that they could make it go any better.
    “So…‘Sally’…you want to be a copper?” said Vimes.
    “A policeman? Yes.”
    “Any history of policing in your family?” said Vimes. It was a standard opening question. It always helped if they’d inherited some idea about coppering.
    “No, just the throat biting,” said Sally.
    There was another pause.
    Vimes sighed.
    “Look, I just want to know one thing,” he said. “Did