'Nothing, Cap'n,' he said. He tried to hide the evidence behind him when Vimes glared over the knife-chewed woodwork.
'Come on, Sham. You can show me.'
Harga's beefy hands came reluctantly into view.
'I was only scraping the old fat out of the pan,' he mumbled.
'I see. And how long have we known each other, Sham?' said Vimes, with terrible kindness.
'Years, Cap'n,' said Harga. 'You bin coming in here nearly every day, reg'lar. One of my best customers.'
Vimes leaned over the counter until his nose was level with the squashy pink thing in the middle of Harga's face.
'And in all that time, have you ever changed the fat?' he demanded.
Harga tried to back away. 'Well…'
'It's been like a friend to me, that old fat,' said Vimes. 'There's little black bits in there I've grown to know and love. It's a meal in itself. And you've cleaned out the coffee jug, haven't you. I can tell. This is love-in-a-canoe coffee if ever I tasted it. The other stuff had flavour. '
'Well, I thought it was time…'
'Why?'
Harga let the pan fall from his pudgy fingers. 'Well, I thought, if the king should happen to come in…'
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