'Up to a certain point. Fascinating, isn't it? Man in a pub told me about it, sort of thing.'
'But he's stolen too much?'
'So it appears. I gather the Guild is very strict about it.'
There was a groan from the victim hanging between them. He tinkled gently.
'Look after him,' said Tomjon. 'I'll sort this out.'
He went back to the thieves, who were looking very worried.
'My client feels,' he said, 'that the situation could be resolved if you give the money back.'
'Ye-es,' said Boggis, approaching the idea as if it was a brand new theory of cosmic creation. 'But it's the receipt. see, we have to fill it up, time and place, signed and everything . . .'
'My client feels that possibly you could rob him of, let us say, five copper pieces,' said Tomjon, smoothly.
'—I bloody don't!—' shouted the Fool, who was coming round.
That represents two copper pieces as the going rate, plus expenses of three copper pieces for time, call-out fees—'
'Wear and tear on cosh,' said Boggis.
'Exactly.'
'Very fair. Very fair.' Boggis looked over Tomjon's head at the Fool, who was now completely conscious and very angry. 'Very fair,' he said loudly. 'Statesmanlike. Much obliged, I'm sure.' He looked down at Tomjon. 'And anything for yourself, sir?' he added. 'Just say the word. We've got a special on GBH this season. Practically painless, you'll barely feel a thing.'
'Hardly breaks the skin,' said the older nephew. 'Plus you get choice of limb.'
'I believe I am well served in that area,' said Tomjon smoothly.
'Oh. Well. Right you are then. No problem.'
'Which merely leaves,' continued Tomjon, as the thieves started to walk away, 'the question of legal fees.'
The gentle greyness at the stump of the night flowed across Ankh-Morpork. Tomjon and Hwel sat on either side of the table in their lodgings, counting.
'Three silver dollars and eighteen copper pieces in profit, I make it,' said Tomjon.
'That was amazing,' said the Fool. 'I mean, the way they volunteered to go home and get some more money as well, after you gave them that speech about the rights of man.'
He dabbed some more ointment on his head.
'And the youngest one started to cry,' he added. 'Amazing.'
'It wears off,' said Hwel.
'You're a dwarf, aren't you?'
Hwel didn't feel he could deny this.
'I can tell you're a Fool,' he said.
'Yes. It's the bells, isn't it?' said the Fool wearily, rubbing his ribs.
'Yes, and the bells.' Tomjon grimaced and kicked Hwel under die table.
'Well, I'm very grateful,' said the Fool. He stood up, and winced. 'I'd really like to show my gratitude,' he added. 'Is there a tavern open around here?'