'Well,  it's  a bit  like ...' the  waiter began. He'd  been  cursed  with honesty at an early stage.

     'Then there's Brodequin rфti Faзon Ombres . .

     The manager sighed at the head waiter's  panicky expression. 'Soldier's boot done in the Shades fashion,' he translated.

     'Er... Shades fashion?'

     'In  mud. But if we cook the tongues separately we can put on Languette braisйe, too.'

     'There's some ladies' shoes, sir,' said an underchef.

     'Right. Add to  the menu... Let's  see now... Sole d'une Bonne Femme... and... yes... Servis dans un Coulis de Terre en I'Eau. That's mud, to you.'

     'What about the laces, sir?' said another underchef.

     'Good thinking. Dig out that recipe for Spaghetti Carbonara.'

     'Sir?' said the head waiter.

     'I started off as a  chef,' said the manager,  picking up a knife. 'How do you think I was able to afford this place? I know how it's done. Get  the look and the sauce right and you're threequarters there.'

     'But it's all going to be old boots!' said the waiter.

     'Prime  aged beef,' the manager corrected  him. 'It'll tenderize  in no time.'

     'Anyway... anyway... we haven't got any soup

     'Mud. And a lot of onions.'

     'There's the puddings...'

     'Mud. Let's see if we can get it to caramelize, you never know.'

     'I  can't even find the coffee... Still, they probably won't last  till the coffee...'

     'Mud. Cafe de Terre,' said the manager firmly. 'Genuine ground coffee.'

     'Oh, they'll spot that, sir!'

     'They haven't up till now,' said the manager darkly.

     'We'll never get away with it, sir. Never.'

     In  the country of the sky on top, Medium Dave Lilywhite hauled another bag of money down the stairs.

     'There must be thousands here,' said Chickenwire.

     'Hundreds of thousands,' said Medium Dave.

     'And what's  all this  stuff?' said  Catseye, opening  a box. ' 's just paper.' He tossed it aside.

     Medium  Dave sighed.  He was  all for class  solidarity,  but sometimes Catseye got on his nerves.

     'They're title deeds,' he said. 'And they're better than money.'

     Taper's better'n money?' said Catseye. 'Hah, if  you  can  burn it  you can't spend it, that's what I say.'

     'Hang on,' said  Chickenwire. 'I know about them. The  Tooth Fairy owns property?'

     'Cot to raise money somehow,' said Medium Dave. 'All those half-dollars under the pillow.'

     'If we steal them, do they become ours?'

     'Is that a trick question?' said Catseye, smirking.

     'Yeah, but... ten thousand each doesn't sound such a  lot, when you see all this.'

     'He won't miss a ...'

     'Gentlemen...'

     They turned. Teatime was in the doorway.

     'We were just... we were just piling up the stuff,' said Chickenwire.

     'Yes. I know. I told you to.'

     'Right. That's right. You did,' said Chickenwire gratefully.

     'And there's such a lot,' said  Teatime. He gave  them a smile. Catseye coughed.

     ' 's  got to be thousands,' said Medium Dave. 'And what about all these deeds and so on? Look, this one's for that pipe shop in Honey Trap Lane!

     In Ankh-Morpork! I buy my tobacco there!  Old Thimble is always moaning about the rent, too!'

     'Ah. So you opened the strongboxes,' said Teatime pleasantly.

     'Well... yes...'

     'Fine.  Fine,'  said  Teatime. 'I didn't ask you to, but... fine, fine.

And how did you think the Tooth Fairy made her  money? Little gnomes in some mine somewhere? Fairy gold? But that turns to trash in the morning!'

     He  laughed.  Chickenwire laughed.  Even Medium Dave laughed.  And then Teatime  was on him, pushing  him irresistibly backwards  until  he hit  the wall.

     There was a blur and he tried to blink and his left eyelid was suddenly a rose of pain.

     Teatime's good eye  was close to him,  if you could call  it  good. The pupil was a dot.  Medium Dave could just make out his hand, right  by Medium Dave's face.

     It was holding a knife. The point of the blade could only be the merest fraction of an inch from Medium Dave's right eye.

     'I know people say  I'd kill  them as soon as look  at them,' whispered Teatime.  'And in  fact I'd  much rather  kill  you  than  look  at you,  Mr Lilywhite. You  stand in a castle of  gold and  plot to  steal  pennies. Oh, dear. What am I to do with you?'

     He relaxed a little, but his hand still held the knife to Medium Dave's unblinking eye.

     'You're thinking that Banjo is going to help

     you,' he said. 'That's how it's always been, isn't  it? But Banjo likes me. He really does. Banjo is my friend.'

     Medium Dave managed to focus beyond Teatime's ear. His brother was just standing there, with the blank face he had while he waited for another order or a new thought to turn up.

     'If  I thought you  were feeling  bad  thoughts  about me I would be so downcast,' said Teatime. 'I do not have many friends left, Mr Medium Dave.'

     He stood back and smiled happily. 'All friends now?' he said, as Medium Dave slumped down. 'Help him, Banjo.'

     On cue, Banjo lumbered forward.

     'Banjo  has  the heart of  a  little child,'  said Teatime,  the  knife disappearing somewhere about his clothing. 'I believe I have, too.'

     The others were frozen  in place. They  hadn't moved  since the attack. Medium Dave was a heavy-set man and Teatime was a matchstick model, but he'd lifted Medium Dave off his feet like a feather.

     'As  far as the money goes, in fact, I really have no use for it,' said Teatime,  sitting down on  a sack of silver.  'It is small change.  You  may share  it  out   amongst  yourselves,  and  no  doubt  you'll  squabble  and doublecross  one  another more  tiresomely. Oh,  dear.  It is so awful  when friends fall out.'

     He kicked the  sack. It split.  Silver and copper fell  in an expensive trickle.

     'And you'll swagger and spend it on drink and  women,' he said, as they watched  the coins roll  into every  corner of  the  room. 'The  thought  of investment will never cross your scarred little minds...'

     There was a rumble from Banjo. Even Teatime  waited patiently until the huge man had assembled a sentence. The result was:

     'I gotta piggy bank.'

     'And what would you do with a million dollars, Banjo?' said Teatime.

     Another rumble. Banjo's face twisted up.

     'Buy... a... bigger piggy bank?'

     'Well done.' The Assassin stood up. 'Let's go and see how our wizard is getting on, shall we?'

     He walked out of  the room without looking back.  After a  moment Banjo followed.

     The others tried not to look at  one another's faces. Then  Chickenwire said, 'Was he saying we could take the money and go?'

     'Don't be bloody stupid, we wouldn't get ten yards,' said Medium  Dave, still clutching his face.  'Ugh, this hurts. I think he cut the eyelid... he cut the damn eyelid...'

     'Then let's just leave the stuff and  go! I never joined up  to ride on tigers!'

     'And what'll you do when he comes after you?'

     'Why'd he bother with the likes of us?'

     'He's got  time for his friends,' said Medium Dave bitterly. 'For gods' sakes, someone get me a clean rag or something...

     'OK, but... but he can't look everywhere.'

     Medium Dave  shook his  head. He'd  been through AnkhMorpork's very own university  of  the  streets  and  had  graduated   with  his  life  and  an intelligence made all the keener by constant  friction. You only had to look into Teatime's mismatched  eyes to know  one thing, which was  this: that if Teatime wanted to find  you  he would not look everywhere. He'd look in only one place, which would be the place where you were hiding.