It did not take long to collect his possessions. There was a mahogany case containing a pair of pistols, a small purse of money, a razor, a comb, a toothbrush, a bit of soap, some clothes (all as ancient as the ones he was wearing) and a small parcel of books, including a Bible, A Child’s History of the Raven King by Lord Portishead and a copy of Paris Ormskirk’s Revelations of Thirty-Six Other Worlds. Mr Norrell had paid Childermass well for years, but what he did with his money no one knew. As Davey and Lucas had often remarked to each other, he certainly did not spend it.

Childermass packed everything into a battered valise. There was a dish of apples upon the table. He wrapped them in a cloth and added them to the valise. Then, holding the napkin to his face, he went downstairs. He was in the stable-yard before he remembered that his pen, ink and memorandum book were still in the drawing-room. He had put them on a side-table while he read his cards. “Well, it is too late to go back,” he thought. “I shall have to buy others.”

There was a party waiting for him in the stables: Davey, Lucas, the grooms and several of the manservants who had managed to slip away from the house. “What are you all doing here?” he asked, in surprize. “Holding a prayer meeting?”

The men glanced at each other.

“We saddled Brewer for you, Mr Childermass,” said Davey. Brewer was Childermass’s horse, a big, unhandsome stallion.

“Thank you, Davey.”

“Why did you let him do it, sir?” asked Lucas. “Why did you let him cut you?”

“Don’t fret about it, lad. It’s of no consequence.”

“I brought bandages. Let me bind up your face.”

“Lucas, I need my wits tonight and I cannot think if I am all over bandages.”

“But it will leave a terrible scar if the lips of the wound are not closed.”

“Let it. No one will complain if I am less beautiful than I was. Just give me another clout5 to staunch the flow. This one is soaked through. Now, lads, when Strange comes …” He sighed. “I do not know what to tell you. I have no advice. But if you get a chance to help them, then do it.”

“What?” asked one manservant. “Help Mr Norrell and Mr Lascelles?”

“No, you blockhead! Help Mr Norrell and Mr Strange. Lucas, tell Lucy, Hannah and Dido that I said goodbye and wished them well – and good, obedient husbands when they want them.” (These were three housemaids who were particular favourites of Childermass.)

Davey grinned. “And you yourself willing to do the job, sir?” he said.

Childermass laughed – then flinched at the pain in his face. “Well, for Hannah perhaps,” he said. “Goodbye, lads.”