'Only the difficult bits.'
'And they are?'
'The climbing-up bits. I don't do the actual jumping, obviously. That's not a skilled job. I'm more into the "cry for help" aspect.'
William tried to grip sheer wall. 'And the help you want is... ?'
'Could you make it twenty dollars?'
'Or you jump?'
'Ah, well, not exactly jump, obviously. Not the whole jump. Not as per such. But I shall continue to threaten to jump, if you get my drift.'
The building seemed a lot higher to William than it had done when he climbed the stairs. The people below were a lot smaller. He could make out faces looking up. Foul Ole Ron was there, with his scabby dog and the rest of the crew, because they had an
uncanny gravitational attraction to impromptu street theatre. He could even make out Coffin Henry's 'Will Threaten For Food' sign. And he could see the queues of wagons, by now paralysing half the city. He could feel his knees buckling...
Arthur grabbed him. 'Oi, this is my patch,' he said. 'Find your own spot.'
'You said the jumping-off wasn't a skilled job,' said William, trying to concentrate on his notes as the world spun gently around him. 'What was your job, Mr Crank?'
'Steeplejack.'
'Arthur Crank, you come down here right this minute!'
Arthur looked down.
'Oh gawds, they've gone and fetched the wife,' he said.
'Constable Fiddyment here says you're...' the distant pink face of Mrs Crank paused to listen again to the watchman standing next to her, 'interferin' with the merc-ant-ile well-bein' of the city, you ole fool!'
'Can't argue with the wife,' said Arthur, giving William a sheepish look.
'I'll hide your trousers another time, you silly ole man! You come down here or I'll give you what for!'
'Three happy married years,' said Arthur cheerfully, waving at the distant figure. 'The other thirty-two haven't been too bad, either. But she can't cook cabbage worth a damn.'
'Really?' said William, and dreamily fell forward.
He woke up lying on the ground, which was what he'd expected, but still in a three-dimensional shape, which he hadn't. He realized that he was not dead. One reason for this was the face of Corporal Nobbs of the Watch looking down at him. William considered that he had lived a relatively blameless life and, if he died, did not expect to encounter anything with a face like Corporal Nobbs, the worst thing ever to hit a uniform if you didn't count seagulls.
'Ah, you're all right,' said Nobbs, looking slightly disappointed.
'Feel... faint,' William murmured.
'I could give you the kiss of life if you like,' said Nobbs.
Unbidden by William, various muscles spasmed and jerked him
vertical so fast that his feet momentarily left the ground.
'Much better now!' he shouted.
'Only we learned it down the Watch House and I haven't had a chance to try it yet
'Fit as a fiddle!' William wailed.
'... I've been practising on my hand and everything