'Er... why do you want to keep it, sir?'
'Keep what?' said Vimes. 'The iconograph I borrowed from the tourist.'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Vimes. 'But you–'
'I can't see you going very far in the Watch, captain, if you go around seeing things that aren't there.'
'Oh.' The clock seemed to tick louder. 'You're thinking something, sir. Aren't you?'
'It is a use to which I occasionally put my brain, captain. Strange as it may seem.'
'What are you thinking, sir?'
'What they want me to think,' said Vimes. 'Who's they?'
'I don't know yet. One step at a time.' A bell tinkled. Vimes stood up. 'You know what I always say,' he said. Carrot removed his helmet and polished it with his sleeve. 'Yes, sir. “Everyone's guilty of something, especially the ones that aren't,” sir.'
'No, not that one...'
'Er... “Always take into consideration the fact that you might be dead wrong,” sir?'
'No, nor that one either.'
'Er... “How come Nobby ever got a job as a watchman?”, sir? You say that a lot.'
'No! I meant “Alwaysact stupid,” Carrot.'
'Ah, right, sir. From now on I shall remember that you always said that, sir.' They put their helmets under their arms. Vimes knocked at the door. 'Come, ' said a voice. The Patrician was standing at the window. Sitting or standing around the office were Lord Rust and the others. Vimes never quite understood how the civic leaders were chosen. They just seemed to turn up, like a tack on the sole of your shoe. 'Ah, Vimes,' said Vetinari. 'Sir.'
'Let us not beat about the bush, Vimes. How did the man get up there when your people had so thoroughly checked everything last night? Magic?'
'Couldn't say, sir.' Carrot, still staring straight ahead, blinked. 'Your people did check the Barbican, I assume?'
'No, sir.'
'They didn't?'
'No, sir. I did that myself.'
'You physically checked it yourself, Vimes?' said Boggis of the Thieves' Guild. Captain Carrot could feel Vimes's thoughts at this point. 'That is correct... Boggis,' said Vimes, without turning his head. 'But... we think someone got in where the windows are boarded up and pulled the boards back after him. Dust has been disturbed and–'
'And you didn't spot this, Vimes?' Vimes sighed. 'It'd be hard enough to spot the nailed–back boards in daylight, Boggis, let alone in the middle of the night.' Not that we did, he added to himself. Angua smelled the scent on them. Lord Vetinari sat down at his desk. 'The situation is grave, Vimes.'
'Yes, sir?'
'His Highness is very seriously injured. And Prince Cadram, we understand, is beside himself with rage.'
'They insist on keeping his brother in the embassy,' said Lord Rust. 'A studied insult. As if we haven't good surgeons in this city.'
'That's right, of course,' said Vimes. 'And many of them could give him a decent shave and a haircut too.'
'Are you making fun of me, Vimes?'
'Certainly not, my lord,' said Vimes. 'ln my opinion, no surgeons anywhere have cleaner sawdust on their floors than the ones in this city.' Rust glared at him. The Patrician coughed. 'You have identified the assassin?' said the Patrician. Carrot was expecting Vimes to say, 'Alleged assassin, sir,' but instead he said: 'Yes. He is– He was called Ossie Brunt, sir. No other name that we know. Lived in Market Street. Did odd jobs from time to time. Bit of a loner. No relatives or friends that we can find. We are making enquiries.'
'And that's all you fellows know?' said Lord Downey. 'It took some time to identify him sir,' said Vimes stolidly. 'Oh? Why should that be?'
'Couldn't give you the technical answer, sir, but it looked to me like they wouldn't need to make him a coffin, they could just have posted him between two barn doors.'