I was very angry with Bullivant, till I remembered how fair he had been.

My fate was my own choosing.
When I was hunting the Black Stone the interest of the problem had helped to keep me going.

But now I could see no problem.

My mind had nothing to work on but three words of gibberish on a sheet of paper and a mystery of which Sir Walter had been convinced, but to which he couldn't give a name.

It was like the story I had read of Saint Teresa setting off at the age of ten with her small brother to convert the Moors.