Guilty people do all kinds of things. Sometimes they run, and sometimes they freeze. Sometimes they plead innocent and sometimes they confess everything on the spot. This isn't because guilty people are unusually complex or unpredictable individuals.

It's because everyone--absolutely everyone--is guilty of something.

"Just walking around," Vimes drawls. He doesn't remove his hand. "And I guess your 'wandering around' just happened to take you close enough to eavesdrop on my conversations, is that it?"