“Mystical nonsense!”

“Perhaps. And yet I do not think so. Since we came to London I have read hundreds of letters from people who think they can do magic and are mistaken. But this is different. This is true. I would stake money upon it. Besides there are other letters here from people who have tried spells – and the spells have worked. But what I do not understand is …”

But at that moment the door against which Childermass was leaning was subject to a great rattling and shaking. A blow hit it and Childermass was thrown away from the door and against Mr Norrell. The door opened to reveal Lucas and, behind him, Davey the coachman.

“Oh!” said Lucas, somewhat surprized. “I beg your pardon, sir. I did not know you were here. Mr Lascelles said the door had jammed shut, and Davey and I were trying to free it. The carriage is ready, sir, to take you to Lord Liverpool.”

“Come, Mr Norrell!” cried Lascelles from within the library. “Lord Liverpool is waiting!”

Mr Norrell cast a worried glance at Childermass and went.

The journey to Fife House was not a very pleasant one for Mr Norrell: Lascelles was full of spite towards Childermass and lost no time in venting it.

“Forgive me for saying so, Mr Norrell,” he said, “but you have no one but yourself to blame. Sometimes it seems like wisdom to allow an intelligent servant a certain degree of independence – but one always regrets it in the end. That villain has grown in insolence until he thinks nothing of contradicting you and insulting your friends. My father whipped men for less – a great deal less, I assure you. And I should like, oh! I should like …” Lascelles twitched and fidgeted, and threw himself back upon the cushions. In a moment he said in a calmer tone, “I advise you to consider, sir, if your need of him is really as great as you think? How many of his sympathies are with Strange, I wonder? Yes, that is the real question, is it not?” He looked out of the glass at the bleak, grey buildings. “We are here. Mr Norrell, I beg that you will remember what I told you. Whatever the difficulties of the magic which his lordship requires, do not dwell upon them. A long explanation will not make them grow any less.”

Mr Norrell and Lascelles found Lord Liverpool in his study, standing by the table where he conducted a great deal of his business. With him was Lord Sidmouth, the Home Secretary. They fixed Mr Norrell with solemn looks.

Lord Liverpool said, “I have here letters from the Lord Lieutenants of Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, Somerset, Cornwall, Warwickshire and Cumbria …” (Lascelles could scarcely refrain from giving a sigh of pleasure at the magic and the money that seemed to be in prospect.) “… all complaining of the magic that has recently occurred in those counties!”

Mr Norrell blinked his little eyes rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”