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'He said no.'
'Typical of the boy.'
'Um, who is in there?' said Rincewind.
'The Masters of Wizardry,' said the voice, haughtily.
'Why?'
There was another pause, and then a conference of embarrassed whispers.
'We, uh, got locked in,' said the voice, reluctantly.
'What, with the Octavo?'
Whisper, whisper.
'The Octavo, in fact, isn't in here, in fact,' said the voice slowly.
'Oh. But you are?' said Rincewind, as politely as possible while grinning like a necrophiliac in a morgue.
'That would typical, isn't it? Old Rincewind won't have any ideas, will he? Oh, no, he's just a makeweight, he is. Kick him as you pass. Don't rely on him, he's —'
'All right,' said Bethan. 'Let's hear it, then.'
'— a nonentity, a failure, just a – what?'appear to be the case.''Is there anything we can get you?' said Twoflower anxiously.'You could try getting us out.''Could we pick the lock?' said Bethan.'No use,' said Rincewind. 'Totally thief-proof.''I expect Cohen would have been able to,' said Bethan loyally. 'Wherever he's got to.''The Luggage would soon smash it down,' agreed Twoflower.'Well, that's it then,' said Bethan. 'Let's get out into the fresh air. Fresher air, anyway.' She turned to walk away.'Hang on, hang on,' said Rincewind. That's just
'How are you going to get the door open?' said Bethan.