It was several days later before Vimes received a Clue. In that time, largely occupied by the vast quantities of paperwork that, even with the help of A.E. Pessimal, he was required to read and sign, he grew steadily more and more uneasy~. Samuel Vimes did not like mysteries, particularly not ones he was involved in. There had been far too many, and they tended to cease to be mysteries very suddenly, and often dramatically. Wee Mad Arthur glided into the Watchouse, causing several watchmen to cover their heads*. He shot Vimes a quizzical look upon seeing him.
"What is it?"
"Nothing much, sir, but I thought you were on holiday."
"Why?"
"Well, sir, your lad was wandering around the Chalk up by the Feegle mounds all this morning. I can go an' fetch him if he wasnae supposed ta be there."
"Sam. In the Chalk? Are you –"
"Positive, sir. Even spoke to the lad. He said he was looking for fossils and burial mounds."
Sam Vimes was for a moment speechless. Then he stood up.
"Right, I'm going home."
"What are you on about, Sam? Of course Young Sam isn't off in the country somewhere! He's in the schoolroom, having lessons, as usual." Vimes ignored his wife, and pressed his ear to the keyhole. After a minute he stepped back and gestured for her to do the same. She objected, but eventually did, puzzled. Two minutes passed, and she stood up.
"Absolutely silent. Perhaps I should knock…?"
"No, dear, I have a better idea…"
It only took a few minutes to have the ladder against the wall and to scramble up it, even while holding a cloth. Just in case. He didn't want to have to explain to his son why he was spying. He was just cleaning a window. Happened to glance in. All explanations and alibis were unnecessary, as it turned out.
"What do you mean, they're not in there!"
A quick search of the house and grounds put Sybil's protestations that they were merely doing some research around the place to rest. Vimes paced up and down, growing steadily more and more worried. The clock chimed, and they both looked up as footsteps came running down the hall. The door opened.
"Mum, dad, look at these!" Young Sam was beaming. He held out a muddy hand, and both parents peered at the collection of objects.
"A fossil, a stone with a hole in it, and a feather."
"Very nice, dear. You are going to wash those before putting them on your shelves, aren't you?"
"Yes mum. Dad, can I have a proper cupboard? Like the museum ones."
"Ask the hogfather."
"But dad. Hogswatch is ages away." Sybil hid a smile.
"Well, then. You'll just have to wait. Your shelf will do for now."
Sam sighed, but couldn't remain downbeat for long.
"I'll find loads of things to put in it when I get one." He looked ready to go running off hunting for objects of interest that instant.
"Good lad. Where are you going to look?" Young Sam thought for a minute.
"I'll go the Ramtops soon. You get stones that stick to metal up there! I'd like one of those."
"The Ramtops are a long way away." Young Sam shrugged.
"I'll be quick."
A week later, while putting his son to bed, Vimes glanced at the 'collecting shelf' over the bed. There was a small stone sat next to the two fossils, with a needle stuck to it.
~ The accumulated paperwork of the Watch was steadily falling before the combined might of A.E. Pessimal and Gooseberry. Vimes now only had to deal with relatively small piles of paper, usually with polite directions stating exactly what needed doing and highlighting any important background information not included. For the first time in many years, Vimes had achieved a clean floor, and a desk that didn't have an inch of paper covering every square inch.
*Wee Mad Arthur's birds were always perfectly Feegle trained. This meant that the concept of 'house trained' was entirely foreign^.
^ One or two watchmen decided that while they could deal with bird doings in their hair, they couldn't cope with them in their morning tea, and covered their mugs instead.