She held the jar over the centre of the hole and let it go. Then she slammed the lid back down.
Young Esme gurgled in the corner. Magrat hurried over to her and shook a rattle.
'Look at the pretty bunny rabbit,' she said, and darted back again.
There was whispering on the other side of the door. Then Nanny Ogg's voice said, 'It's all right, dear, we've got them. You can open the door now. Lawks.'
Magrat rolled her eyes.
'Is that really you, Nanny?'
'That's right, dear.'
'Thank goodness. Just tell me the joke about the old woman, the priest and the rhinoceros then and I'll let you in.'
There was a pause, and some more whispering.
'I don't think We've got time for that, dear,' said the voice.
'Ha ha, nice try,' said Magrat. 'I've dropped one of you in the river! Who was it?'
After some silence the voice of the Count said, 'We thought the Countess could persuade you to listen to reason.'
'Not in a jar she can't,' said Magrat. 'And I've got more jars if you want to try it again!'
'We had hoped that you would be sensible about this,' said the Count. 'However...'
The door slammed back, pulling the bolts out of the wall.
Magrat grabbed the baby and stepped backwards, her other hand raised.
'You come near me and I'll stab you with this!' she shouted.
'It's a teddybear,' said the Count. 'I'm afraid it wouldn't work, even if you sharpened it.'
The door was so hard that the wood was like stone with a grain. Someone had once thought hard about the maximum amount of force a really determined mob would be able to apply, and had then overdesigned.
It hung open.
'But we heard her put the bars across!' wailed Nanny.
A variously coloured lump was sprawled in front of the door. Igor knelt down and picked up a limp paw.
'They've killed Thcrapth! The bathtardth!'
'They've got Magrat and the babby!' snapped Nanny.
'He wath my only friend!'
Nanny's arm shot out and, despite his bulk, Igor was lifted up by his collar.
'You're going to have one very serious enemy really soon, my lad, unless you help us out right now! Oh, for heaven's sake...' With her spare hand she reached into her knickerleg and produced a large crumpled handkerchief. 'Have a good blow, will you?'
There was a noise like a foghorn being trodden on.
'Now, where would they take them? The place is swarming with righteous peasants!' said Nanny, when he'd finished.
'He wath alwayth ready with hith waggy tailth and hith cold nothe-' Igor sobbed.