And eyes cease weeping on trial.
A driver find,
A purse well lined,
A gate and road all open.
And horses six,
To avoid the Styx,
Yet climb the invisible mountain.’
There now, Brightcoat, what do you think of that? Can you fathom it? I think it’s a very charming puzzle.”
“Who do you think wrote it?”
“Why, the Governor! And out of compliment to his wife I feel bound somehow or other to—to endeavour to accomplish the task set me.”