“What is this?” cried Strange in alarm. “Something new in the Discourses?”¹

“It is something he has found on page 72 of Cromford’s edition. A new application of the Spell to Conjure Death. I do not understand it very well.² Mr Norrell seems to think that the principle might be adapted to cure diseases in men and animals – by conjuring the disease to come forth out of the body as if it were a demon.”

“Oh, that!” exclaimed Strange in relief. “Yes, yes! I know what you mean now. I made the connexion last June. So Norrell has only just arrived there, has he? Oh, excellent!”

“Many people were surprized that he did not take another pupil after you,” continued Lord Portishead, “and I know that he has received a number of applications. But he has taken none of them. Indeed I do not believe he even spoke to the young men in question or answered their letters. His standards are so very exacting and no one comes up to you, sir.”

Strange smiled. “Well, all that is just as I would have expected. He can scarcely bear the existence of a second magician. A third will probably be the death of him. I shall soon have the advantage of him. In the struggle to decide the character of English magic the sides will be very unevenly matched. There will only be one Norrellite magician and dozens of Strangite magicians. Or at least, as many as I can educate. I am thinking of setting up Jeremy Johns as a sort of anti-Childermass. He can go about the country seeking out all the people whom Norrell and Childermass have persuaded out of the study of magic and then he and I can persuade them back into it. I have had conversations with several young men already. Two or three are very promising. Lord Chaldecott’s second son, Henry Purfois, has read a great many fourth-rate books about magic and fifth-rate biographies of magicians. It makes his conversation a little tedious, but he is scarcely to blame for that, poor fellow. Then there is William Hadley-Bright who was one of Wellington’s aides-de-camp at Waterloo, and an odd little man called Tom Levy who is presently employed as a dancing-master in Norwich.”

“A dancing-master?” frowned Sir Walter. “But is that really the sort of person whom we should be encouraging to take up magic? Surely it is a profession that ought to be reserved for gentlemen?”

“I do not see why. And besides I like Levy best. He is the first person I have met in years who regards magic as something to be enjoyed – and he is also the only one of the three who has managed to learn any practical magic. He made the window frame over there sprout branches and leaves. I dare say you were wondering why it is in that odd condition.”

“To own the truth,” said Sir Walter, “the room is so full of oddities that I had not even noticed.”