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Cohen shook him off。
'It's watching that wall；' he said。 'Look； that's why it's not taking any notice of us。 It's staring at the wall。'
'Yes； that's right；' said Lackjaw soothingly。 'Of course it's watching that wall with its little eyes …'
'Don't be an idiot； it hasn't got any eyes；' snapped Cohen。
'Sorry； sorry；' said Lackjaw hurriedly。 'It's watching the wall without eyes； sorry。'
'I think it's worried about something；' said Cohen。
'Well； it would be； wouldn't it；' said Lackjaw。 'I expect it just wants us to go off somewhere and leave it alone。'
'I think it's very puzzled；' Cohen added。
'Yes； it certainly looks puzzled；' said the dwarf。 Cohen glared at him。
'How can you tell？' he snapped。
It struck Lackjaw that the roles were unfairly reversing。 He looked from Cohen to the box； his mouth opening and shutting。
'How can you tell？' he said。 But Cohen wasn't listening anyway。 He sat down in front of the box； assuming that the bit with the keyhole was the front； and watched it intently。 Lackjaw backed away。 Funny； said his mind； but the damn thing is looking at me。
'All right；' said Cohen； 'I know you and me don't see eye to eye； but we're all trying to find someone we care for； okay？'
'I'm…' said Lackjaw； and realised that Cohen was talking to the box。
'So tell me where they've gone。'
As Lackjaw looked on in horror the Luggage extended 161 its little legs； braced itself； and ran full tilt at the nearest wall。 Clay bricks and dusty mortar exploded around it。
Cohen peered through the hole。 There was a small grubby storeroom on the other side。 The Luggage stood in the middle of the floor； radiating extreme bafflement。
'Shop！' said Twoflower。
'Anyone here？' said Bethan。
'Urrgh；' said Rincewind。
'I think we ought to sit him down somewhere and get him a glass of water；' said Twoflower。 'If there's one here。'
'There's everything else；' said Bethan。
The room was full of shelves； and the shelves were full of everything。 Things that couldn't be acmodated on them hung in bunches from the dark and shadowy ceiling； boxes and sacks of everything spilled onto the floor。
There was no sound from outside。 Bethan looked around and found out why。
'I've never seen so much stuff；' said Twoflower。
'There's one thing it's out of stock of；' said Bethan； firmly。。
'How can you tell？'
'You just have to look。 It's fresh out of exits。'
Twoflower turned around。 Where the door and window had been there were shelves stacked with boxes； they looked as； though they had been there for a long time。
Twoflower sat Rincewind down on a rickety chair by the counter and poked doubtfully at the shelves。 There were boxes of nails； and hairbrushes。 There were bars of soap； faded with age。 There was a stack of jars containing deliquescent bath salts； to which someone had fixed a rather sad and jaunty little notice announcing； in the face of all the evidence； that one would make an Ideal Gift。 There was also quite a lot of dust。
Bethan peered at the shelves on the other wall； and laughed。
'Would you look at this！' she said。
Twoflower looked。 She was holding a … well； it was a little mountain chalet； but with seashells stuck all over it； and then the perpetrator had written 'A Special Souvenir' in pokerwork on the roof （which； of course； opened so that cigarettes could be kept in it； and played a tinny little tune）。
'Have you ever seen anything like it？' she said。
Twoflower shook his head。 His mouth dropped open。
'Are you all right？' said Bethan。
'I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen；' he said。
There was a whirring noise overhead。 They looked up。
A big black globe had lowered itself from the darkness of the ceiling。 Little red lights flashed on and off on it； and as they stared it spun around and looked at them with a big glass eye。 It was menacing； that eye。 It seemed to suggest very emphatically that it was watching something distasteful。
'Hallo？' said Twoflower。
A head appeared over the edge of the counter。 It looked angry。
'I hope you were intending to pay for that；' it said nastily。 Its expression suggested that it expected Rincewind to say yes； and that it wouldn't believe him。
'This？' said Bethan。 'I wouldn't buy this if you threw in a hatful of rubies and …'
'I'll buy it。 How much？' said Twoflower urgently； reaching into his pockets。 His face fell。
'Actually； I haven't got any money；' he said。 'It's in my Luggage； but I …'
There was a snort。 The head disappeared from behind the counter； and reappeared from behind a display of toothbrushes。
It belonged to a very small man almost hidden behind a green apron。 He seemed very upset。
'No money？' he said。 'You e into my shop …'
'We didn't mean to；' said Twoflower quickly。 'We didn't notice it was there。'
'It wasn't；' said Bethan firmly。 'It's magical； isn't it？'
The small shopkeeper hesitated。
'Yes；' he reluctantly agreed。 'A bit。'
'A bit？' said Bethan。 'A bit magical？'
'Quite a bit； then；' he conceded； backing away； and； 'All right；' he agreed； as Bethan continued to glare at him。 'It's magical。 I can't help it。 The bloody door hasn't been and gone again； has it？'
'Yes； and we're not happy about that thing in the ceiling。'
He looked up； and frowned。 Then he disappeared through a little beaded doorway half…hidden among the merchandise。 There was a lot of clanking and whirring； and the black globe disappeared into the shadows。 It was replaced by； in succession； a bunch of herbs； a mobile advertising something Twoflower had never heard of but which was apparently a bedtime drink； a suit of armour and a stuffed crocodile with a lifelike expression of extreme pain and surprise。
The shopkeeper reappeared。
'Better？' he demanded。
'It's an improvement；' said Twoflower； doubtfully。 'I liked the herbs best。'
At this point Rincewind groaned。 He was about to wake up。
There have been three general theories put forward to explain the phenomenon of the wandering shops or； as they are generically known； tabernae vagantes。
The first postulates that many thousands of years ago there evolved somewhere in the multiverse a race whose single talent was to buy cheap and sell dear。 Soon they controlled a vast galactic empire or； as they put it； Emporium； and the more advanced members of the species found a way to equip their very shops with unique propulsion units that could break the dark walls of space itself and open up vast new markets。 And long after the orlds of the Emporium perished in the heat death of their particular universe； after one last defiant fire sale； the wandering starshops still ply their trade； eating their way through the pages of spacetime like a worm through a three…volume novel。
The second is that they are the creation of a sympathetic Fate； charged with the role of supplying exactly the right thing at the right time。
The third is that they are simply a very clever way of getting around the various Sunday Closing acts。
All these theories； diverse as they are； have two things in mon。 They explain the observed facts； and they are pletely and utterly wrong。
Rincewind opened his eyes and lay for a moment