Chapter Fifteen
While Miss Isabel was swannin’ about in York an’ hobnobbing wi’ the Thompsons, I ‘ad not been idle. When I need to know sommat fast, I can usually rustle up somethin’ o’ use sharpish-like. It ain’t cheap, mind, but fer Miss Isabel — sweetest lass ye could wish to meet, an’ a friend o’ Miss Sophy’s besides — there ain’t much I wouldn’t do.
I ‘ad hoped that the Ferryman’s name’d be one o’ those things I could spirit out o’ my very fine hat, but that weren’t to be. Too many years ‘ad passed, an’ he was by no means a well-known person before he was packed off into the Torpor. But somethin’ else turned up. Many an unlikely myth an’ tall tale I ‘ad to wade through, thas fer certain, before I came upon sommat o’ use, but my network o’ whisperers came up wi’ the goods, an’ pretty
