'Some dwarfish gentlemen called while you were upstairs, sir,' said the butler, unfolding slowly. 'Through the cellar wall, in fact. I regret to say that I found it necessary to deal somewhat strictly with them. I fear one might be dead.'

Vimes peered around. 'Might be dead? Is he still breathing?'

'I do not know, sir.' Willikins applied a match, with great care, to a stub of a candle. 'I heard him gurgling, but he appears to have stopped. I'm sorry to say that they came upon me when I was leaving the ice store, and I was forced to defend myself with the first thing that came to hand.'

'Which was...?'

'The ice knife, sir,' said Willikins levelly. He held up eighteen inches of sharp, serrated steel, designed to slice ice into convenient blocks.