“So?” said Lascelles’s voice. “You have nothing else to do.”

“Oh! But you are wrong! You could not be more wrong. You must take me to London as quickly as possible!”

“All in good time.” Lascelles emerged from the mist and reined in his horse. His fine clothes and hat were beaded with a silvery dusting of dew.

Drawlight regarded him for a moment and then, with something of his old character, said sulkily, “How nicely you are dressed! But really, you know, it is not very clever of you to parade your wealth like that. Are not you afraid of robbers? This is a very horrid spot. I dare say there are all sorts of desperate characters close at hand.”

“You are probably right. But you see I have my pistols with me, and am quite as desperate as any of them.”

Drawlight was struck by a sudden thought. “Where is the other horse?” he asked.

“What?”

“The other horse! The one that is to take me to London! Oh, Lascelles, you noodlehead! How am I to get to London without a horse?”

Lascelles laughed. “I would have thought you would be glad to avoid it. Your debts may have been paid off – I have paid them – but London is still full of people who hate you and will do you an ill turn if they can.”

Drawlight stared as if he had understood none of this. In a shrill, excited voice, he cried, “But I have instructions from the magician! He has given me messages to deliver to all sorts of people! I must begin immediately! I must not delay a single hour!”

Lascelles frowned. “Are you drunk? Are you dreaming? Norrell has not asked you to do any thing. If he had tasks for you, he would convey them through me, and besides …”

“Not Norrell. Strange!”

Lascelles sat stock still upon his horse. The horse shifted and fidgeted, but Lascelles moved not at all. Then, in a softer, more dangerous voice, he said, “What in the world are you talking about? Strange? How dare you talk to me of Strange? I advise you to think very carefully before you speak again. I am already seriously displeased. Your instructions were quite plain, I think. You were to remain at Venice until Strange left. But here you are. And there he is.”

“I could not help it! I had to leave! You do not understand. I saw him and he told me …”

Lascelles held up his hand. “I have no wish to conduct this conversation in the open. We will go a little way into the trees.”

“Into the trees!” The little colour that was left in Drawlight’s face drained away. “Oh, no! Not for the world! I will not go there! Do not ask me!”

“What do you mean?” Lascelles looked round, a little less comfortable than before. “Has Strange set the trees to spy on us?”

“No, no. That is not it. I cannot explain it. They are waiting for me. They know me! I cannot go in there!” Drawlight had no words for what had happened to him. He held out his arms for a moment as if he thought he could shew Lascelles the rivers that had curled about his feet, the trees that had pierced him, the stones that had been his heart and lungs and guts.