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           "You’vegotapoint."

           "IreckonwemustofturnedleftoutofSilverStreetinsteadofright,"quaveredNobby.

           "Well,that’sonemistakewewon’tmakeagaininahurry,"saidthecaptain.Thenhewishedhehadn’t.

           Theycouldhearfootsteps.Somewhereofftotheirleft,therewasasnigger.

           "Wemustformasquare,"saidthecaptain.Theyalltriedtoformapoint.

           "Hey!Whatwasthat?"saidSergeantColon.

           "What?"

           "Thereitwasagain.Sortofaleatherysound."

           CaptainVimestriednottothinkabouthoodsandgarrotting.

           Therewere,heknew,manygods.Therewasagodforeverytrade.Therewasabeggars’god,awhores’goddess,athieves’god,probablyevenanassassins’god.

           Hewonderedwhethertherewas,somewhereinthatvastpantheon,agodwhowouldlookkindlyonhard-pressedandfairlyinnocentlaw-enforcementofficerswhowerequitedefinitelyabouttodie.

           Thereprobablywasn’t,hethoughtbitterly.Somethinglikethatwasn’tstylishenoughforgods.Catchanygodworryingaboutanypoorsodtryingtodohisbestforahandfulofdollarsamonth.Notthem.