'Mr de Worde! For shame!'
The future of the city hangs in the balance, Mrs Arcanum!'
Perplexity slowly took the place of stern affront. 'What, in my scales?'
'Yes! Yes! It could very well be!'
'Well, er... they're in the pantry by the flour bag. The whole city, you say?'
'Quite possibly!' William felt his jacket sag as he forced the big brass weights into his pocket.
'Use the old potato sack, do,' said Mrs Arcanum, now quite flustered by events.
William grabbed the sack, rammed everything in and ran for the door.
'The University and the river and everything?' said the landlady nervously.
'Yes! Yes indeed!'
Mrs Arcanum set her jaw. 'You will wash it out thoroughly afterwards, won't you?' she said to his retreating back.
William's progress slowed towards the end of the road. Big iron kitchen scales and a full set of weights aren't carried lightly.
But that was the point, wasn't it? Weight! He ran and walked and dragged them through the freezing, foggy night until he reached Gleam Street.
The lights were still on in the Inquirer building. How late do you need to stay up when you can make up the news as you go along? thought William. But this is real. Heavy, even.
He hammered on the door of the Times shed until a dwarf opened up. The dwarf was amazed to see a frantic William de Worde rush past and drop the scales and weights on a desk.
'Please get Mr Goodmountain up. We've got to get out another edition! And can I have ten dollars, please?'
It took Goodmountain to sort things out when, night-shirted but still firmly helmeted, he clambered out of the cellar.
'No, ten dollars,' William was explaining to the bewildered dwarfs. 'Ten dollar coins. Not ten dollars' worth of money.'
'Why?'
'To see how much seventy thousand dollars weigh!'
'We haven't got seventy thousand dollars!'
'Look, even one dollar coin would do,' said William patiently. Ten dollars would just be more accurate, that's all. I can work it out from there.'
Ten assorted coins were eventually procured from the dwarfs' cash box and were duly weighed. Then William turned to a fresh page in his notebook and bent his head in ferocious calculation. The dwarfs watched him solemnly, as if he was conducting an alchemical experiment. Finally he looked up from his figures, the light of revelation in his eyes.
That's almost a third of a ton,' he said. That's how much seventy thousand dollar coins weigh. I suppose a really good horse could carry that and a rider, but... Vetinari walks with a stick, you saw him. It'd take him for ever to load the horse up, and even if he got away he could hardly travel fast. Vimes must have worked it out. He said the facts were stupid facts!'
Goodmountain had stationed himself before the rows of cases. 'Ready when you are, chief,' he said.
'All right...' William hesitated. He knew the facts, but what did the facts suggest?
'Er... make the heading: "Who framed Lord Vetinari?" and then the story starts... er...' William watched the hand pounce and grab among the little boxes of type, 'A... er... "Ankh-Morpork City Watch now believe that at least one other person was involved in the... the..."'
'Fracas?' suggested Goodmountain.
'No.'
'Rumpus?'