Part 43 (2/2)

She let her gaze travel up and up the cable to the point, at just about waist-height, where it was half-cut through. You'd never see it, if you weren't expecting to find it.

Then her gaze dropped again, and moved across the gloomy, dusty floor until it found something half-hidden in the dust.

Behind her, a shadow among the shadows rose to its feet, balanced itself carefully, and started to run.

”I knows about policemen,” said Granny. ”They've got big helmets and big feet and you can see them a mile off. There's a couple lurching around backstage. Anyone can see they're they're policemen. You don't look like one.” She turned the badge over and over in her hands. ”I ain't happy with the idea of policemen. You don't look like one.” She turned the badge over and over in her hands. ”I ain't happy with the idea of secret secret policemen,” she said. ”Why do you need secret policemen?” policemen,” she said. ”Why do you need secret policemen?”

”Because,” said Andre, ”sometimes you have secret criminals.”

Granny almost smiled. ”That's a fact,” she said. She peered at the small engraving on the back of the badge. ”Says here 'Cable Street Particulars'...”

”There aren't many of us,” said Andre. ”We've only just started. Commander Vimes said that, since we can't do anything about the Thieves' Guild and the a.s.sa.s.sins' Guild, we'd better look for other crimes. Hidden crimes. That need Watchmen with...different skills. And I can play the piano quite well...”

”What kind of skills have that troll and that dwarf got?” said Granny. ”Seems to me the only thing they're really good at is standing around looking obvious and stupi-Hah! Yes...”

”Right. And they didn't even need much training,” said Andre. ”Commander Vimes says they're the most obvious policemen anyone could think of. Incidentally, Corporal n.o.bbs has got some papers to prove he's a human being.”

”Forged?”

”I don't think so.”

Granny Weatherwax put her head on one side. ”If your house was on fire, what's the first thing you'd take out of it?”

”Oh, Granny-” Agnes began.

”Hmm. Who set fire to it?” said Andre.

”You're a policeman, right enough.” Granny handed him his badge. ”You come to arrest poor Walter?” she said.

”I know he didn't murder Dr. Undershaft. I was watching him. He was trying to unblock the privies all afternoon-”

”I've had proof that Walter isn't isn't the Ghost,” said Agnes. the Ghost,” said Agnes.

”I was almost sure it was Salzella,” said Andre. ”I know he creeps off to the cellars sometimes and I'm sure he's stealing money. But the Ghost has been seen when Salzella is perfectly visible. So now I think-”

”Think? Think?” said Granny. ”Someone thinking around here at last? How'd you recognize the Ghost, Mister Policeman?”

”Well...he's got a mask on...”

”Really? Now say it again, and listen listen to what you say. Good grief! You can to what you say. Good grief! You can recognize recognize him because he's got a him because he's got a mask mask on? You recognize him on? You recognize him because because you don't know who he is? Life isn't neat! Whoever said there's only one Ghost?” you don't know who he is? Life isn't neat! Whoever said there's only one Ghost?”

The figure ran through the shadows of the fly loft, cloak billowing around it. Nanny Ogg was outlined against the light, peering down.

She said, without turning her head: ”h.e.l.lo, Mr. Ghost. Come back for your saw, have you?”

Then she darted around behind the cable until she faced the shadow. ”Millions of people knows I'm up here! You wouldn't hurt a little old lady, would you? Oh, dear...me poor old heart!”

She keeled over backward, hitting the floor hard enough to make the cable swing.

The figure hesitated. Then it took a length of thin rope from a pocket and advanced cautiously toward the fallen witch. It knelt down, wound an end of the rope around each hand, and leaned forward.

Nanny's knee came up sharply.

”Feels a lot better now, mister,” she said, as he reared backward.

She scrambled up again and grabbed the saw.

”Come back to finish it, eh?” she said, waving the implement in the air. ”Wonder how you'd blame that that on Walter! Make you happy, would it, the whole place burning down?” on Walter! Make you happy, would it, the whole place burning down?”

The figure, moving awkwardly, backed away as she advanced. Then it turned, lurched along the wobbling catwalk and disappeared into the gloom.

Nanny pounded after him and saw the figure climbing down a ladder. She looked around quickly, grabbed a rope to slide after him, and heard a pulley somewhere above start to clatter.

She descended, skirts billowing around her. When she was about halfway down, a bunch of sandbags went upward past her in a hurry.

As she rattled onward she saw, between her boots, someone struggling with the trapdoor to the cellars.

She landed a few feet away, still holding the rope.

”Mr. Salzella?”

Nanny stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that could have melted earwax.

She let go of the rope.

Salzella glanced up at her as he raised the trapdoor, and then saw the shape dropping out of the roof.

One hundred and eighty pounds of sandbag hit the door, slamming it shut.

”Watch out!” said Nanny, cheerfully.

Bucket waited nervously in the wings. Unnecessarily nervously, of course. The Ghost was dead. There couldn't be anything to worry about. People said they'd seen seen him killed, although they were, Bucket had to admit, a bit hazy on the actual details. him killed, although they were, Bucket had to admit, a bit hazy on the actual details.

Nothing to worry about.

Not a thing.

Nothing whatsoever in any way.

<script>