'I can be very persuasive.'
'It won't work, I tell you. I have found not one single word that they will react to.'
'Well, professor, it's not what you say, it's the way that you say it, isn't it? Sooner or later it's all about style.'
'Ha! You are a fool, man.'
'I thought we had a deal, professor? And I shall want a number of other phrases.' He looked around at the golem horses, as still as statues. 'And one phrase I shall need is the equivalent of "Giddyup", and while I think of it I shall need "Whoa", too. Or do you want to go back to the place where they've never heard of pole-dancing?' it in style - 'The chairman goes woof - Harry King puts something by - The screaming starts - One kiss, no tongue - Council of wars - Moist takes charge - A little magic, with stamps - Arousing the professor's interest - A vision of Paradise
WING IT! THERE'S NOTHING LEFT. Remember the gold-ish chain? This is the other end of the rainbow. Talk yourself out of a situation you can't talk your way out of. Make your own luck. Put on a show. If you fall, let them remember how you turned it into a dive. Sometimes the finest hour is the last one.
He went to the wardrobe and took out the best golden suit, the one he wore on special occasions. Then he went and found Gladys, who was staring out of the window.
He had to speak her name quite loudly before she turned to face him, very slowly.
'They Are Coming,' she said.
'Yes, they are,' said Moist, 'and I'd better look my best. Could you press these trousers, please?'
Wordlessly, Gladys took the trousers from him, held them against the wall, and ran a huge palm down them before handing them back. Moist could have shaved with the crease. Then she turned back to the window.
Moist joined her. There was already a crowd in front of the bank, and coaches were pulling up as he watched. There were a fair number of guards around, too. A brief flash indicated that Otto Chriek of the Times was already taking pictures. Ah, yes, a deputation was now forming. People wanted to be in at the death. Sooner or later, someone would hammer at the door. Blow that. He couldn't let that happen.
Wash, shave, trim errant nose hairs, clean teeth. Comb hair, shine boots. Don hat, walk down stairs, unlock door very slowly so that the click is unlikely to be heard outside, wait until you hear a tread getting louder -
Moist opened the door, sharply.
'Well, gentlemen?'
Cosmo Lavish wobbled as the knock failed to connect, but recovered and thrust a sheet of paper at him.
'Emergency audit,' he said. 'These gentlemen' - and here he indicated a number of worthy-looking men behind him - 'are representatives of the major guilds and some of the other banks. This is standard procedure and you can't stand in their way. You will note that we have brought Commander Vimes of the Watch. When we have established that there is indeed no gold in the vault, I shall instruct him to arrest you on suspicion of theft.'
Moist glanced at the commander. He did not like the man much, and was certain that Vimes did not like him at all. He was even more certain, though, that Vimes did not readily take orders from the likes of Cosmo Lavish.
'I'm sure that the commander will do as he sees fit,' said Moist meekly. 'You know the way to the vault. I am sorry it's a bit of a mess at the moment.'
Cosmo half-turned to make certain the crowd heard everything he said. 'You are a thief, Mr Lipwig. A cheat and a liar, an embezzler and you have no dress sense whatsoever.'
'I say, that's a bit on the harsh side,' said Moist as the men swept through. 'I happen to think I dress rather snappily!'
Now he was alone on the steps, facing the crowd. They weren't a mob yet, but it could only be a matter of time.
'Can I help anyone else?' he said.
'What about our money?' someone said.
'What about it?' said Moist.
'Says in the paper you've got no gold,' said the enquirer.
He pushed a damp copy of the Times towards Moist. The newspaper had, on the whole, been quite restrained. He had expected bad headlines, but the story was a single column on the front page and it was full of 'we understand that' and 'we believe that' and 'the Times has been informed that' and all the phrases that journalists use when they are dealing with facts about large sums of money they don't fully understand and are not quite certain that what they have been told is true.
He looked up into the face of Sacharissa Cripslock.
'Sorry,' she said, 'but there were watchmen and guards all round the place last night and we didn't have much time. And frankly, Mr Bent's... attack was enough of a story in its own right. Everyone knows he runs the bank.'
'The chairman runs the bank,' said Moist stiffly.