There was a click near by and then a flash, and he turned to see the perennially cheerful face of Otto Chriek, lead iconographer of the Ankh-Morpork Times, who gave him a friendly wave.

‘Vell now, Mister Lipvig, surely you’re behind zis in your cheeky little vay?’

Moist laughed and said, ‘No, not me, Otto, but it’s very popular, isn’t it!’ And I want to be at the very centre of it all, he said to himself.

He noticed that periodically the man collecting the money hurried away carrying huge leather pouches, with a troll bodyguard fore and aft, and was instantly replaced with another showman ready for the moneys of the mob. And so Moist, as he told himself in his own cheeky vay, followed the money. He followed it in between the great noisome heaps and stinking lagoons of Harry’s empire until the man with the large pouches of coin walked into a large shed. He followed him inside and froze, because he was immediately surrounded by the kind of men who have their noses splashed against one side of their face, little in the way of conversation and, he noticed now, very bad halitosis.

Fortunately, the shed also contained Sir Harry, who was bright enough to wave a hand in the air and say, ‘Okay, boys, loosen those sphincters. It’s only Mister von Lipwig, my old chum and bank manager. He’s practically one of us, ain’t you, Moist?’

Moist grinned, thankful that sphincters were, right now, not in play, and said, ‘Well now, Harry, you know, as your bank manager I of course make it my duty to look after your interests, and I gather that you’re looking after the interests of Mister Simnel too?’

That hung in the air like a sickle, a sharp one at that, and he watched Harry’s face, which hadn’t moved one single muscle. And then, abruptly, Harry burst out laughing and said, ‘Oh my, Mister Lipwig, I always said you was a sharp card and, if it comes to that, a card sharp!’

He nodded to his bodyguards and said, ‘Go and have a little break, lads. Me and my old friend here’ll be having a little chinwag, such as old friends do. Go on, bugger off, the lot of you.’

And indeed they did, all except one, the very largest, a troll who glittered strangely and was watching Moist most intently, but not as intently as Moist watched him. And, Moist thought, the troll was … a gentleman. He couldn’t think of him in any other way; he was well dressed, which was remarkable in itself as most trolls viewed clothes as optional.

Somewhat embarrassed at this interest, Moist felt rude enough to say, ‘Okay, Harry, but there’s one bodyguard still here. D’you think I’m going to try anything?’

Harry King guffawed. ‘That, Mister Lipwig, is my lawyer. His name is Mister Thunderbolt, got the letters after his name and everything, ain’t you, Thunderbolt?’

Lawyer! Bingo!

Harry was laughing all the way from his belly now and said, ‘Mister Lipwig, the look on your face! Don’t worry, though. Mister Thunderbolt takes everybody that way. That isn’t to say I ain’t glad to see you, but you could be of service to both me and our friend the engineer. Shall we go somewhere a bit more private? Coffee?’