You and your cliffhangers, damn it! And the very idea of an 'honest gentleman', pah! I take no stock whatsoever in that. However, since his accosting you has still left you the ability to write to me, I suppose I shall safely assume that he did not leave you for dead in a gutter. (I hope you left him for dead in a gutter? No one would know it was you, in all this fog. You might as well have. It sounds as though it was well-deserved.)

I suppose I'm not surprised about your staff, and the rest of magical Irvingly. The magical world is rather set in its ways, and most wizards nothing without their wands. At least the fog is serving to shake them out of it, I expect. Breaking the spell - quite literally. Apparently it is spreading to Wellingtonshire, now - not that this makes any difference to us, of course, only that it shall probably be keeping yet more of society apart. (What an utter tragedy, I'm sure you'll agree. Not.)

And how accomplished are you at making dinner now, then? I do hope you didn't manage to poison anyone. I'm joking, obviously - but I am pleased for your letter. Try as you might to lead a quiet life, Nimmie, you're not as shy of tales as you might pretend. One can always count on you for some sincere amusement!

Once more, I hope you murdered that man, or I shall be

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