Childermass smiled his wry smile. “Well, sir, I could not expect to stay hidden from you for long.”

Strange sniffed. “I have been expecting you this past week or more. Where have you been?”

“My master did not send me until yesterday.”

“And how is your master?”

“Oh, poorly, sir, very poorly. He is beset with colds and headachs and tremblings in his limbs. All his usual symptoms when someone has vexed him. And no one vexes him as you do.”

“I am pleased to hear it.”

“By the by, sir, I have been meaning to tell you. I have some money at Hanover-square for you. Your fees from the Treasury and the Admiralty for the last quarter of 1814.”

Strange opened his eyes in surprize. “And does Norrell really intend to let me have my share? I had supposed that money was gone for good.”

Childermass smiled. “Mr Norrell knows nothing about it. Shall I bring the money tonight?”

“Certainly. I shall not be at home, but give it to Jeremy. Tell me, Childermass, I am curious. Does Norrell know that you go about making yourself invisible and turning yourself into shadows?”

“Oh, I have picked up a little skill here and there. I have been twenty-six years in Mr Norrell’s service. I would have to be a very dull fellow to have learnt nothing at all.”

“Yes, of course. But that was not what I asked. Does Norrell know?”

“No, sir. He suspects, but he chuses not to know. A magician who passes his life in a room full of books must have someone to go about the world for him. There are limits to what you can find out in a silver dish of water. You know that.”

“Hmm. Well, come on, man! See what you were sent to see!”

The house had a much neglected, almost deserted air. Its windows and paint were very dirty and the shutters were all put up. Strange and Childermass waited upon the pavement while the footman knocked at the door. Strange had his umbrella and Childermass was entirely indifferent to the rain falling upon him.

Nothing happened for some time and then something made the footman look down into the area and he began a conversation with someone no one else could see. Whoever this person was, Strange’s footman did not think much of them; his frown, his way of standing with both hands on his hips, the manner in which he admonished them, all betrayed the severest impatience.

After a while the door was opened by a very small, very dirty, very frightened servant-girl. Jonathan Strange, Childermass and the footman entered and, as they did so, each glanced down at her and she, poor thing, was frightened out of her wits to be looked at by so many tall, important-looking people.

Strange did not trouble to send up his name – it seemed so unlikely that they could have persuaded the little servant-girl to do it. Instead, instructing Childermass to follow him, Strange ran up the stairs and passed directly into one of the rooms. There in an obscure light made by many candles burning in a sort of fog – for the house seemed to produce its own weather – they found the engraver, M’sieur Minervois, and his assistant, M’sieur Forcalquier.