The marching golems had forced the bank's troubles on to page 5. The golems were all over the front page, and a lot of the inner pages were full of Vox Pops - which meant people in the street who didn't know anything told other people what they knew - and lengthy articles by people who also didn't know anything but could say it very elegantly in 250 words.
He was just staring at the crossword puzzle[12] when someone knocked very politely on the cell door. It was the warden, who hoped Mr Lipwig had enjoyed his brief stay with them, would like to show him to his carriage, and looked forward to the pleasure of his custom again should there be any further temporary doubts about his honesty. In the meantime, he would be grateful if Mr Lipwig would be kind enough to wear these lightweight manacles, for the look of the thing, and when they were taken off him, as they surely would be when his character was proved to be spotless, would he please remind the officer in charge that they were prison property, thank you very much.
There was a crowd outside the prison, though they were standing back from the large golem which, down on one knee and with a fist thrust into the air, was waiting outside the gate. It had turned up last night and if Mr Lipwig could see his way clear to getting it to move, said the warden, everyone would be most appreciative. Moist tried to look as though he'd expected it. He had told Black Moustache to await further orders. He hadn't expected this.
In fact it stamped after the coach all the way to the palace. There were a lot of watchmen lining the route and there seemed to be a black-clad figure on every rooftop. It looked as though Vetinari was not taking any chances on him escaping. There were more guards waiting in the back courtyard - more than was efficient, Moist could tell, since it can be easier for a swift-thinking man to get away from twenty men than from five. But somebody was Making a Statement. It didn't matter what it was, so long as it looked impressive.
He was led by dark passages into the sudden light of the Great Hall, which was packed. There was a smattering of applause, one or two cheers, and a ringing series of boos from Pucci, who was sitting next to her brother in the front row of the big block of seats. Moist was led to a small podium which was going to do duty as a dock, where he could look around at the guild leaders, senior wizards, important priests and members of the Great and the Good, or at least the Big and the Noisy. There was Harry King, grinning at him, and the cloud of smoke that indicated the presence of Adora Belle and - oh yes, the new High Priestess of Anoia, her crown of bent spoons all shiny, her ceremonial ladle held stiffly, her face rigid with nerves and importance. You owe me, girl, Moist thought, 'cos a year ago you had to work in a bar in the evenings to make a living and Anoia was just one of half a dozen semi-goddesses who shared an altar which, let's face it, was your kitchen table with a cloth on it. What's one little miracle compared to that?
There was a whisking of cloth and suddenly Lord Vetinari was in his seat, with Drumknott by his side. The buzz of conversation ceased, as the Patrician looked around the hall.
'Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen,' he said. 'Let us get on, shall we? This is not a court of law, as such. It is a court of inquiry, which I have convened to look into the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of ten tons of gold bullion from the Royal Bank of Ankh-Morpork. The good name of the bank has been called into question, and so we will consider all matters apparently pertaining to it - '
'No matter where they lead?'
'Indeed, Mr Cosmo Lavish. No matter where they lead.'
'We have your assurance on this?' Cosmo insisted.
'I believe I have already given it, Mr Lavish. Can we proceed? I have appointed the learned Mr Slant, of Morecombe, Slant and Honeyplace, as Counsel to the Inquiry. He will examine and cross-examine as he sees fit. I think it is known to all that Mr Slant commands the total respect of Ankh-Morpork's legal profession.'
Mr Slant bowed to Vetinari and let his steady gaze take in the rest of the room. It lingered a long time on the ranks of the Lavishes.
'First, the matter of the gold,' said Vetinari. 'I present Drumknott, my secretary and chief clerk, who overnight took a team of my senior clerks into the bank - '
'Am I in the dock here?' said Moist.
Vetinari glanced at him and looked down at his paperwork. 'I have here your signature on a receipt for some ten tons of gold,' he said. 'Do you dispute its authenticity?'
'No, but I thought that was just a formality!'
'Ten tons of gold is a formality, is it? And did you later break into the vault?'
'Well, yes, technically. I couldn't unlock it because Mr Bent had fainted inside and left the key in the lock.'
'Ah, yes, Mr Bent, the chief cashier. Is he with us today?'
A quick survey found the room Bentless.
'I understood that he was in a somewhat distressed state but not seriously harmed,' said Lord Vetinari. 'Commander Vimes, please be so good as to send some men along to his lodgings, will you? I would like him to join us.'
He turned back to Moist. 'No, Mr Lipwig, you are not on trial, as yet. Generally speaking, before someone is put on trial it helps to have some clear reason for doing so. It is considered neater. I must point out, though, that you took formal responsibility for the gold which we must assume was clearly gold and clearly in the vault at that time. In order to have a thorough understanding of the bank's disposition at this time I asked my secretary to audit the bank's affairs, which he and his team did last nigh - '
'If I'm not actually on trial at this moment can I get rid of these shackles? They do rather bias the case against me,' said Moist.
'Yes, very well. Guards, see to it. Now, Mr Drumknott, if you please?'
I'm going to be hung out to dry, thought Moist, as Drumknott started speaking. What is Vetinari playing at?
He stared at the crowds as Drumknott went through the tedious litany of accountancy. Right in front, in a great black mass, was the Lavish family. From here they looked like vultures. This was going to take a long time, by the sound of Drumknott's earnest drone. They were going to set him up, and Vetinari wa - Ah, yes, and then it would be, in some quiet room: 'Mr Lipwig, if you could see your way clear to telling me how you controlled those golems...'
A commotion near the door came as welcome relief, and now Sergeant Fred Colon, trailed by his inseparable associate Nobby Nobbs, was practically swimming through the crowd. Vimes pushed his way towards them, with Sacharissa drifting in his wake. There was a hurried conversation, and a ripple of horrified excitement rolled through the crowd.
Moist caught the word 'Murdered!'
Vetinari stood up and brought his stick down flat on the table, ending the noise like the punctuation of the gods. 'What has happened, Commander?' he said.
'Bodies, sir. In Mr Bent's lodgings!'