It was with more than a little alarm that Drumknott, looking up from his paperwork, saw his Lordship traverse the antechamber of the Oblong Office flanked by two ferocious beasts. The clerk blinked hard then rubbed his eyes before looking again, only to see Lord Vetinari now halfway across the room and with the pair of monsters still there by his sides.

Since it was apparent that his Lordship had no inclination of pointing out these two glaring discrepancies to his clerk, Drumknott resolved to raise a query himself. Essaying a small wave in the Patrician's direction, in which he hoped to attract the man's attention without at the same time attracting the beasts', he made a quiet cough and said, "Your Lordship...?"

The Patrician had sharp hearing, it is fair to say, and heard his clerk's weak call of distress with little or no difficulty. He halted in his tracks and made a gentle little spin in Drumknott's direction before, to his clerk's horror, he then made his way toward him with the Hell-hounds in tow. "Yes, Drumknott?" he asked.

Rufus glanced wide-eyed between the two creatures, wondering if he might need their permission to speak on top of Vetinari's. The dogs only blinked back, though, giving him as unimpressed a look as was possible. The clerk thus endeavoured to continue. "Your Lordship," he said, his voice tremulous. "What are they?" His finger shook as he pointed out the two hounds, one on either side of the Patrician's legs.

The two hounds looked at Drumknott again, then glanced at one-another, deciding during this silent conference that this man was quite below them in the pack pecking order. In fact, he might as well not exist as far as they were concerned.

"Oh, these," said the Patrician as if his mind had been elsewhere. He patted the head of each animal and then returned his sights to Drumknott. "These are a pair of highly-bred Obermann bitches, the last stock of Huey Obermann's famous breeding kennel in Klatch. Since their breeder's rather unfortunate death, they have been in want of a new handler. Since they ate the mime who had been interested in training them for his dogs-in-a-box act, I thought I'd take them on myself. Fine creatures, aren't they?"

Drumknott swallowed and looked again at the pair of "highly-bred" bitches. They looked back, daring the clerk to say otherwise. Having been used to seeing the terrier Wuffles curled up under the Patrician's desk, these two were certainly different. Measuring at least twenty-five inches at the withers, the dogs were of a muscular yet refined build, with elegant muzzles, dropped ears, and long tails which were currently held alight over their backs. Their coats were short and mostly a shining black in colour, except for the few spots on their faces, chests and feet where they had a sprinkling of tan markings.

"This is Trixie, and this one Georgette, by the way," the Patrician added. "You mustn't forget that. They can't abide their names being forgotten - or worse, mixed up."

Rufus paled a little more as this tiny but significant morsel of information was divulged to him. "I see," he whimpered, before he had to ask, "Your Lordship... forgive my ignorance, but what exactly happened to Huey Obermann?"

"Oh, did I not say?" Lord Vetinari replied with a sigh. "He got Trixie and Georgette's names mixed up. Unfortunate man. They weren't forgiving. They left nothing of the man but his shoes - which were made of a rather substandard type of Morporkian leather, I have to confess. We must contact the Guild of Merchants concerning the quality of our exports. Make a note of it, please."

Drumknott reached for his quill but was still several seconds behind on the conversation. "They left nothing but his shoes?" he repeated.

Lord Vetinari was by now at the door to the Oblong Office, his loyal beasts with him. "Quite," he replied. "I rather liked their style." He then disappeared behind the door with his dogs, and Drumknott felt himself breathe again. Lord Vetinari was without a doubt the God Huey's bitches had been looking for...