"There's no tellin' what any manner of man may do, given th' wrong circumstances, if you take my meaning." Childermass frowned, returning his attention to the pamphlet. "Says 'ere: Think what you will, but within a month's time you will learn that no newcomers are safe from the Fog's terrible hunger. We only ask that you are merciful and not do more than the absolute minimum to survive."

He frowned, turning the bill over to see if there was anything else. Only a few crude illustrations of different types of monsters - and some of them looked very like the crude medieval illustrations in some of Mr. Norrell's older books: bits of all different animals grafted together, as though they had been drawn by someone who had been given a secondhand description. "Beggin' your pardon, Ms. D'Arc, but I think you may've been given the most unhelpful slip of paper in the whole bloody town."