Strange glared at him. “I did remain in the library! One moment I was reading Goubert’s Gatekeeper of Apollo. The next moment I was here!”

“You did not follow me?” asked Norrell.

“No, of course not! What is happening? And what in God’s name is taking you so long?”

“I could not find my greatcoat,” said Norrell, humbly. “I did not know where Lucas had put it.”

Strange raised one eye-brow, sighed and said, “I presume you experienced the same as me? Just before I was plucked up and brought here, there was a sensation like winds and waters and flames, all mixed together?”

“Yes,” said Norrell.

“And a faint odour, as of wild herbs and mountainsides?”

“Yes,” said Norrell.

“Fairy magic?”

“Oh!” said Norrell. “Undoubtedly! This is part of the same spell that keeps you here in Eternal Darkness.” He looked around. “How extensive is it?”

“What?”

“The Darkness.”

“Well, it is hard for me to know exactly since it moves around with me. But other people have told me that it is the size of the parish in Venice where I lived. Say half an acre?”

“Half an acre! Stay here!” Mr Norrell put the silver dish of water down upon the frozen ground. He walked off in the direction of the bridge. Soon all that was visible of him was his grey wig. In the starlight it resembled nothing so much as a little stone tortoise waddling away.

The world gave another twist and suddenly the two magicians were standing together on the bridge over the river at Hurtfew.

“What in the world …?” began Strange.

“You see?” said Norrell, grimly. “The spell will not allow us to move too far from one another. It has gripped me too. I dare say there was some regrettable impreciseness in the fairy’s magic. He has been careless. I dare say he named you as the English magician – or some such vague term. Consequently, his spell – meant only for you – now entraps any English magician who stumbles into it!”

“Ah!” said Strange. He said nothing more. There did not seem any thing to say.

Mr Norrell turned towards the house. “If nothing else, Mr Strange,” he said, “this is an excellent illustration of the need for great preciseness about names in spells!”

Behind him Strange raised his eyes heavenward.

In the library they placed the silver dish of water on a table between them.

It was very odd but the discovery that he was now imprisoned in Eternal Darkness with Strange seemed to have raised Mr Norrell’s spirits rather than otherwise. Cheerfully he reminded Strange that they still had not found a way to name John Uskglass and that this was certain to be a great obstacle in finding him – by magic or any other means.

Strange, with his head propped up on his hands, stared at him gloomily. “Just try John Uskglass,” he said.