“I would not have you think that the Admiralty is entirely helpless without Mr Strange,” smiled Sir Walter. “They have done what they can. They sent one of the clerks, a Mr Petrofax, to Greenwich to seek out a childhood friend of Admiral Armingcroft’s to ask him, with his superior knowledge of the Admiral’s character, what he thought the Admiral would do under such circumstances. But when Mr Petrofax got to Greenwich the Admiral’s childhood friend was drunk in bed, and Mr Petrofax was not sure that he understood the question.”

“I dare say Norrell and I will be able to suggest something,” said Strange, thoughtfully, “but I think I should like to see the problem on a map.”

“I have all the necessary maps and papers at my house. One of our servants will bring them to Hanover-square later today and then perhaps you will be so kind as to talk to Norrell …”

“Oh! But we can do that now!” said Strange. “Arabella does not mind waiting a few moments! You do not mind, do you?” he said to his wife. “I am meeting Mr Norrell at two o’clock and I believe that if I can explain the problem to him straightaway then we may be able to return an answer to the Admiralty before dinner.”

Arabella, like a sweet, compliant woman and good wife, put all thoughts of her new curtains aside for the moment and assured both gentlemen that in such a cause it was no trouble to her to wait. It was settled that Mr and Mrs Strange would accompany Sir Walter to his house in Harley-street.

Strange took out his watch and looked at it. “Twenty minutes to Harley-street. Three-quarters of an hour to examine the problem. Then another fifteen minutes to Soho-square. Yes, there is plenty of time.”

Arabella laughed. “He is not always so scrupulous, I assure you,” she said to Sir Walter, “but he was late on Tuesday for an appointment with Lord Liverpool and Mr Norrell was not best pleased.”

“That was not my fault,” said Strange. “I was ready to leave the house in good time but I could not find my gloves.” Arabella’s teasing accusation of lateness continued to vex him and on the way to Harley-street he examined his watch as though in hopes of discovering something about the operation of Time which had hitherto gone unnoticed and which would vindicate him. When they reached Harley-street he thought he had it. “Ha!” he cried suddenly. “I know what it is. My watch is wrong!”

“I do not think so,” said Sir Walter, taking out his own watch and shewing it to Strange. “It is precisely noon. Mine says the same.”

“Then why do I hear no bells?” said Strange. “Do you hear bells?” he said to Arabella.

“No, I hear nothing.”

Sir Walter reddened and muttered something about the bells in this parish and the neighbouring ones being no longer rung.

“Really?” asked Strange. “Why in the world not?”