Read Thud! for Free Online Page B

big stake with a nail in it! Is this art, too?”
    “ Freedom ? If it hwas ever on the market, it hwould probableah fetch thirty thousand dollars,” said Sir Reynold.
    “For a bit of wood with a nail in it?” said Fred Colon. “Who did it?”
    “After he viewed Don’t Talk to Me About Mondays! , Lord Vetinari graciousleah had Ms. Pouter nailed to the stake by her ear,” said Stitched. “However, she did manage to pull free during the afternoon.”
    “I bet she was mad!” said Nobby.
    “Not after she hwon several awards for it. I believe she’s planning to nail herself to several other things. It could be a very exciting exhibition.”
    “Tell you what, then, sir,” said Nobby cheerfully. “Why don’t you leave the ol’ big frame where it is and give it a new name, like Art Theft ?”
    “No,” said Sir Reynold coldly. “That would be foolish.”
    Shaking his head at the way of the world, Fred Colon walked right up to the wall so cruelly—or cruelleah—denuded of its covering. The painting had been crudely cut from its frame. Sergeant Colon was not a high-speed thinker, but that point struck him as odd. If you’ve got a month to pinch a painting, why botch the job? Fred had a copper’s view of humanity that differed in some respects from that of the curator. Never say that people wouldn’t do something, no matter how strange it was. Probably there were some mad rich people out there who would buy the painting, even if it meant only ever viewing it in the privacy of their own mansion. People could be like that. In fact, knowing that this was their big secret probably gave them a lonely, tight little shiver inside.
    But the thieves had slashed the painting out as if they didn’t care about making a sale. There were several ragged inches all along the—just a moment…
    Fred stood back. A Clue. There it was, right there. He got lovely, tight little shiver inside.
    “This painting,” he declared, “this painting…this painting which isn’t here, I mean, obviously, was stolen by a… troll .”
    “My goodness, how can you tell?” said Sir Reynold.
    “I’m very glad you asked me that question, sir,” said Fred Colon, who was. “I have detected, you see, that the top of the circular muriel was cut really close to the frame.” He pointed. “Now, your troll would easily be able to reach up with his knife, right, and cut along the edge of the frame at the top and down a bit on each side, see? But your average troll don’t bend that well, so when it come to cutting along the bottom, right, he made a bit of a mess of the job and left it all jagged. Plus, only a troll could carry it away. A stair carpet’s bad enough, and a rolled-up muriel would be a lot heavier than that!”
    He beamed.
    “Well done, Sergeant!” said the curator.
    “Good thinking, Fred,” said Nobby.
    “Thank you, Corporal,” said Fred Colon generously.
    “Or it could have been a couple of dwarfs with a stepladder,” Nobby went on cheerfully. “The decorators have left a few behind. They’re all over the place.”
    Fred Colon sighed.
    “Y’see, Nobby,” he said, “it’s comments like that, made in front of a member of the public, that are the reason why I’m a sergeant and you ain’t. If it was dwarfs, it would be neat all ’round , obviously. Is this place locked up at night, Mr. Sir Reynold?”
    “Of course! Not just locked, but barred! Old John is meticulous about it. And he lives in the attics, so he can make this place like a fortress .”
    “This’d be the caretaker?” said Fred. “We’ll need to talk to him.”
    “Certainly you may,” said Sir Reynold nervously. “Now, I think hwe may have some details about the painting in our storeroom. I’ll, er, just go and, er, find them…”
    He hurried off toward a small doorway.
    “I wonder how they got it out?” said Nobby, when they were alone.
    “Who says they did?” said Fred Colon. “Big place like this, full of attics and cellars and odd