"James," Childermass repeats, though the name means little more to him than simply that -- a name. "James who? What sort of book is it that he is to have disguised? Disguised in what fiction, for that matter?"

If this is truly the discovery of a lifetime, he will do what he can to get Norrell a copy of the book, as he no doubt desires. But Childermass sincerely doubts the story is as it appears, nor that this fae man was telling anything resembling the truth when he spoke to Norrell. It's easy to rile the other man up, he knows, and even a stranger would be able to recognize that much. With very little prodding, for that matter.