Moist waited. Lord Vetinari could outstare a statue and make even a statue start to feel nervous and confess. Moist’s counter was a fetching grin, which he knew annoyed Vetinari beyond measure, and there was absolute silence in the Oblong Office while blank stare and cheery grin battled it out for supremacy in some other dimension, which ended when his lordship, still staring fixedly at Moist, said to the nearest dark clerk, ‘Mister Ward, please take Mister Drumknott to his rooms and clean him up, if you would be so kind.’

When they had departed, Lord Vetinari sat down and drummed his fingers on his desk. ‘So, Mister Lipwig, you believe in the train, do you? It certainly appears that my secretary is impressed. I have never seen him so excited by something that wasn’t written on paper, and the afternoon edition of the Times seems to be in agreement with him.’

Vetinari walked over to the window and stared down at the city in silence for a moment and continued, ‘What can a mere jobbing tyrant achieve in the face of the even greater, multi-headed tyrant of public opinion and a regrettably free press?’

‘Excuse me, sir, but if you wanted to you could shut down the papers, couldn’t you? And forbid the train and put anyone you like in prison, yes?’

Still staring down at the city, Lord Vetinari said, ‘My dear Mister Lipwig, you are clever and certainly smart but you have yet to find the virtue of wisdom, and wisdom tells a powerful prince that firstly he shouldn’t put just anyone he likes in prison, because that is where he puts the people he doesn’t like, and secondly that mere unthinking dislike of something, someone, or some situation is no mandate for drastic action. Therefore, while I have given you permission to continue, the train does not have my wholehearted approval. Neither does it have my curse.’ The Patrician seemed to consider for a moment and added, ‘Yet.’

He walked up and down again for a second or two and then, as if the thought had only just struck him, said, ‘Mister Lipwig, do you think it a possibility that a train could in fact get all the way to, say, Uberwald? That journey is not only extremely slow, tedious and uncomfortable by coach, but it is fraught with many … ah, perils … and traps for the unwary traveller.’ He paused and added, ‘And indeed the unlucky bandit.’

‘Oh, yes, that’s where Lady Margolotta lives, isn’t it, sir?’ said Moist breezily. ‘But it would mean negotiating the Wilinus Pass, sir. Very dangerous up there! Bandits have been known to knock out coaches by throwing down rocks from the crags.’

‘But there is no other way without a very lengthy detour, Mister Lipwig, as you probably know.’

‘In that case, my lord … I think it might be possible to construct such a thing as an armoured train,’ said Moist, inventing furiously. He was gratified to see that Lord Vetinari brightened when he heard that, repeating the words ‘armoured train’ once or twice more.