Making Money - Terry Pratchett [25]
Except for the occasional gurgle, the aquatic activity subsided.
“And we end up in a position where we can’t move because we’re standing on our own hands, as it were,” said Hubert. “Jobs vanishing, people without savings suffering, wages low, farms going back to wilderness, rampaging trolls coming down from the mountains—”
“They’re here already,” said Moist. “Some of them are even in the Watch.”
“Are you sure?” said Hubert.
“Yes, they’ve got helmets and everything. I’ve seen them.”
“Then I expect they’ll be wanting to rampage back to the mountains,” said Hubert. “I think I would, if I were them.”
“You believe all that could really happen?” said Moist. “A bunch of tubes and buckets can tell you that?”
“They are correlated to events very carefully, Mr. Lipswick,” said Hubert, looking hurt. “Correlation is everything. Did you know it is an established fact that hemlines tend to rise in times of national crisis?”
“You mean—?” Moist began, not at all certain how the sentence was going to end.
“Women’s dresses get shorter,” said Hubert.
“And that causes a national crisis? Really? How high do they go?”
Mr. Bent coughed a leaden cough. “I think perhaps we should go, Mr. Lipwig,” he said. “If you have seen all you want, no doubt you are in a hurry to leave.” There was a slight inflection on leave.
“What? Oh…yes,” said Moist. “I probably should be getting along. Well, thank you, Hubert. It has been an education and no mistake.”
“I just can’t get rid of the leaks,” said the little man, looking crestfallen. “I’ll swear that every joint is watertight, but we never end up with the same amount of water that we started with.”
“Of course not, Hubert,” said Moist, patting him on the shoulder. “And that’s because you’re close to achieving perfection!”
“I am?” said Hubert, wide-eyed.
“Certainly. Everyone knows that at the end of the week you never have quite as much money as you think you should. It’s a well-known fact!”
The sunrise of delight dawned on Hubert’s face. Topsy was right, Moist told himself. I am good with people.
“Now demonstrated by the Glooper!” Hubert breathed. “I shall write a paper on it!”
“Or you could write it on paper!” said Moist, shaking him warmly by the hand. “Okay, Mr. Bent, let us tear ourselves away!”
When they were walking up the main stairs Moist said: “What relation is Hubert to the current chairman?”
“Nephew,” said Bent. “How did you—?”
“I’m always interested in people,” said Moist, smiling to himself. “And there’s the red hair, of course. Why does Mrs. Lavish have two crossbows on her desk?”
“Family heirlooms, sir,” lied Bent. It was a deliberate, flagrant lie, and he must have meant it to be seen as such. Family heirlooms. And she sleeps in her office. All right, she’s an invalid, but people usually do that at home.
She doesn’t intend to step out of the room. She’s on guard. And she’s very particular about who comes in.
“Do you have any interests, Mr. Bent?”
“I do my job with care and attention, sir.”
“Yes, but what do you do in the evenings?”
“I double-check the day’s totals in my office, sir. I find counting very…satisfying.”
“You’re very good at it, yes?”
“More than you can imagine, sir.”
“So if I save ninety-three-point-forty-seven dollars a year for seven years at two and a quarter percent, compound, how—”
“Eight hundred and thirty-five-point-thirteen dollars calculated once annually, sir,” said Bent calmly.
Yes, and twice you’ve known the exact time, thought Moist. And you didn’t look at a watch. You are good with numbers. Inhumanly good, perhaps…
“No holidays?” he said aloud.
“I did a walking tour of the major banking houses of Überwald last summer, sir. It was most instructive.”
“That must have taken weeks. I’m glad you felt able to tear yourself away!”
“Oh, it was easy, sir. Miss Drapes, who is the senior clerk, sent a coded clacks of the day’s business to each of my lodging houses at the close of business every day.