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If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The sporting chance - -Authors: Alice Askew - Claude Askew - -Release Date: August 3, 2022 [eBook #68678] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPORTING CHANCE *** - - - - - - - - THE - SPORTING CHANCE. - - - BY - - ALICE AND CLAUDE ASKEW, - - AUTHORS OF - "THE SHULAMITE," "THE ETONIAN," "THE PLAINS OF SILENCE," - "NOT PROVEN," ETC. - - - - _ILLUSTRATED._ - - - - LONDON: - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED. - 1910. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER - - I. Mostyn Makes his Debût - II. Mostyn Sees the Derby - III. Mostyn Accepts a Challenge - IV. Mostyn is Rebellious - V. Mostyn Realises his Position - VI. Mostyn is put on his Mettle - VII. Mostyn is Surprised - VIII. Mostyn Entertains a Guest - IX. Mostyn Makes a Purchase - X. Mostyn Learns his Error - XI. Mostyn Makes Reparation - XII. Mostyn Tells his Love - XIII. Mostyn Prepares for Battle - XIV. Mostyn Makes an Enemy - XV. Mostyn Faces Defeat - XVI. Mostyn is Tempted - XVII. Mostyn is Given Another Chance - XVIII. Mostyn Meets with an Accident - XIX. Mostyn is Better Understood - XX. Mostyn Completes his Task - - - - -THE SPORTING CHANCE. - - - -CHAPTER I. - -MOSTYN MAKES HIS DEBÛT. - -"It may be old-fashioned to drive a coach to the Derby, but I'll be -in my coffin before I'll go down any other way!" Thus, perpetrating -a characteristic "bull," spoke genial and popular "Old Rory," as he -was known to the best part of the world--Sir Roderick Macphane, to -give him his true title. - -A few minutes back he had handed over the ribbons to one of the -grooms, who, with his fellow, was now busily engaged unharnessing the -horses, four fine roans, as handsome a team as the heart of man could -desire. "Old Rory" was a famous whip, and, in spite of his advancing -years, a good all-round sportsman--a master of hounds, a familiar -figure on the race-course, and as good a judge of horse and dog flesh -as any in the country. In his younger days he had been an intrepid -rider at the hurdles, an amateur of more than common merit. - -There was, perhaps, no more popular man than "Rory" Macphane in the -three kingdoms. He was laughed at, especially in Parliament, where -he held a seat for an Irish division, because of his quaint sayings -and frequent _faux pas_, but his good nature, charity, and kindness -of heart were admitted on all sides. They were as palpable as his -sportsmanship. - -Mostyn Clithero, who occupied a seat at the back of the coach -together with his friend and future brother-in-law, Pierce Trelawny, -a nephew of Sir Roderick's, enjoyed the comments of the crowd as the -coach threaded its way to the appointed place opposite the Grand -Stand. - -"That's 'Old Rory,' what owns Hipponous." How the populace murdered -the colt's name! "The Derby winner--perhaps! He's one of the best. -Look at the old sport sitting up there with his back as straight as a -lad's! Good luck to ye, sir, and good luck to the 'oss! -Hip--Hip--Hipponous!" This had become a popular catch-word, easily -taken up and repeated. - -Sir Roderick smiled a little and nodded now and again, quite -conscious of his popularity and of that of his horse. It was the -ambition of his life to win the Derby. He had tried many times and -failed, but on the present occasion it looked as if he stood a good -chance, for Hipponous had won the Middle Park Plate and was second -favourite in the betting. - -Sir Roderick stood up on the box, his back turned to the course, and -made a little speech to his guests. Lady Lempiere, who had occupied -the place of honour by his side, and to whom his first remark had -been addressed, turned too, as in duty bound. She was a well-known -society dame, no longer young but still reputed for her beauty as -well as for her success upon the turf. She fixed her eyes, which -were blue and liquid and full of expression, upon Major Molyneux, who -sat directly behind her, and who--or so her eyes seemed to say--might -soon be by her side. He was her accepted cavalier, and it was an -understood thing that wherever Lady Lempiere was asked Major Molyneux -must also receive his invitation. - -"I want you all to understand that ceremony is a non-starter to-day," -thus spoke Sir Roderick, "and this is to be a go-as-you-please race -for all of you. There's lunch on the coach for any one at any time -it's asked for, and the ice will give out before the wine does, -though we've got a hundredweight on board. Bring as many of your -friends as you like; there's enough for all. Don't worry about me: I -shall probably be in the House--I mean the Paddock"--he corrected -himself with a broad smile--"a place where I'm more in my element, -and occasionally get listened to." He drew a deep breath as of -relief at a duty performed. "Since I'm not at Westminster," he -added, "I needn't talk for an hour when all I have to say is just -comprised in two words: good luck!" - -The little speech was greeted with laughter and applause, applause in -which none was so vociferous as an individual with a bibulous red -face and a white beard, who had the carefully fostered appearance of -a military man. This was Captain Armitage, and he occupied the back -seat together with Mostyn Clithero, Pierce Trelawny, and a fourth -man, Anthony Royce by name, who from his manner rather than his -speech gave the impression of being an American. - -"I wonder," whispered Mostyn to his friend, "what makes the captain -so particularly demonstrative?" - -"The idea that he'll soon get a drink, I expect," was the answer, -spoken in an undertone, although Captain Armitage had turned his back -and was airily waving his hand to his daughter, Rada, who sat on the -front seat, pretending to listen with interest to the conversational -inanities of young Lord Caldershot. - -"I guess you're right there," commented Mr. Royce, his sides shaking -with silent laughter. He had a way of laughing inwardly and without -any apparent reason that was rather disconcerting till one was -accustomed to it; it gave the impression that he was possessed of a -peculiarly selfish sense of humour. He was an Englishman by birth, -though for the last twenty years he had made his home in the States, -where he had accumulated a great fortune and had become a recognised -power in Wall Street. He had also gained some reputation as a -traveller--an explorer upon scientific lines of little-known parts of -the world--and he had but recently returned from an expedition of the -sort, an expedition organised and financed by himself, which had, -however, only partially achieved its object. - -"Armitage will punish the champagne before the day's through," he -continued in a voice that was agreeably free from nasal twang. "Look -at him now!" Captain Armitage had swung himself down from the coach -and could be seen in interested converse with the butler, who had -emerged from its interior. "He's a curious sort of fellow, is the -captain. Had a big fortune once, but did it all in on the turf. -Kind-hearted fellows like Rory still keep in with him for the sake of -old times, and because of the girl, who's a character, too, in her -way. They live in a tumble-down cottage near John Treves's training -stables at Partinborough, in Cambridgeshire. It was there I first -came across them, for I've a house of my own in the neighbourhood. -The girl"--he nodded his head in the direction of Rada--"has a poor -time of it, and just runs wild. Armitage brings her to London now -and then and tries to make a dash, showing up at the big race -meetings and putting on a swagger, although heaven alone knows in -what wretched lodgings he hangs out! He spends most of the time at -his club, and leaves Rada to look after herself. He manages somehow -to keep a horse or two in training at Treves's, but he's a sponge, -and that's why I warn you two young fellows about him." - -It was very clear that Anthony Royce had no liking for the bibulous -captain: nor had Mostyn Clithero, even upon his shorter acquaintance, -and that with good reason. - -Mostyn knew nothing about racing; he was a very innocent in all -matters connected with the turf. Captain Armitage had made this -discovery very early in the day--when the party had met at Sir -Roderick's house in Eaton Square, in fact--and he had proceeded to -amuse himself at the young man's expense, a fact of which Mostyn had -subsequently become uneasily aware. There was one matter especially -which weighed upon his mind, and now, feeling himself with friends, -he proceeded to unburden himself. - -"I think," he said, "that Captain Armitage has been making fun of me. -Is it true that Hipponous won the Waterloo Cup?" - -There remained no doubt in Mostyn's mind after he had put that -question, though his two companions let him down as gently as they -could; even, as far as possible, refraining from laughter as they -gave the necessary explanation. - -Mostyn flushed indignantly. "It was too bad of him," he cried; "too -bad. He came up and talked so amiably that I quite believed all he -said. Of course, he saw at once that I was a fool. He asked me if I -could remember what price Hipponous had started at for the Waterloo -Cup. And later"--his voice trembled--"I asked other people if they -could tell me. I asked Lord Caldershot, and he just stared at me -through that beastly eye-glass of his and turned away. And then I -asked Miss Armitage, to whom I had just been introduced. I couldn't -make out why she laughed at me. I was a fool to come to the races at -all!" he ended, miserably. - -He had come full of enthusiasm, and at a personal risk of which none -but he himself knew the full measure, so his sense of wrong was all -the more acute. Nor was he easily appeased, though both Pierce -Trelawny and Anthony Royce did their best to make light of the -incident. - -"It was too bad of Armitage to pull your leg," Royce said feelingly. -"I'll have a word with him on the subject. But in the meanwhile -forget all about it, my boy, and enjoy your day." - -Anthony Royce had shown himself very well disposed towards Mostyn on -the way down, fully appreciative of the young man's enthusiasm as -well as his ignorance, and it was due to him that Captain Armitage, -who had evinced an inclination to continue the "leg-pulling" sport, -had been finally silenced. - -It was by Royce's own wish that he had taken a seat at the back of -the coach, giving up his place in the front to the fair-haired youth, -Lord Caldershot, gorgeous with eye-glass and button-hole, who had -immediately appropriated Rada Armitage as his particular property for -the day. They had already established themselves in the front when -Mostyn clambered up at the back, and they were laughing together, -their eyes turned upon him. He was sure, even then, that he was the -object of their laughter. He had taken a dislike to the girl, though -he could have given no reason for the feeling. - -For he had recognised--he could not fail to recognise--that Rada was -young--she could not have been much over twenty--high-spirited, and -good to look at. Unfortunately he was always a little diffident and -shy with strange girls--qualities that were not really natural to -him, but which were the result of his home training--and he had not -shown himself at his best that morning. Of course, matters had not -been improved when she laughed at him, apparently without cause. -When he mounted the coach his one wish was that the Armitages had -been left out of the party altogether. He was struck by the contrast -between Royce and the captain. The former was evidently strong and -masterful, possessed of a will of iron, while the latter was -bombastic, given to swagger, and totally lacking in repose. He was -never still for a moment: he would shuffle his feet and fidget with -his hands; he would spring up from his seat and then immediately sit -down again; he would wave his arms and strike attitudes. His voice -was now raised to a shout, now lowered to a whisper, hardly ever even -in tone. Sometimes he would break out into snatches of song, -particularly aggravating, since it usually occurred when he was being -addressed. He was one of those men who seldom, even early in the -morning, appear quite sober. - -While on the road Armitage would have continued to make fun of -Mostyn, an easy victim, had not Royce quietly intervened. The big -financier had taken a fancy to the boy, and did not intend to see him -bullied. - -It was unfair, and particularly so because Mostyn had admitted from -the first, and with becoming modesty, that he was totally lacking in -racing experience. Yet he was obviously enthusiastic, and Anthony -Royce, man of the world, admired the enthusiasm of the tall fair boy -who was so simple and yet so manly withal. There was something about -Mostyn's eyes, too; but upon this point the American was not yet sure -of his ground. Mostyn Clithero was risking much that day. This -jaunt to the Derby was a stolen expedition, undertaken without the -knowledge of his father, and Mostyn knew quite well that when the -truth came out there would be a terrible scene. - -John Clithero looked upon the race-course as the devil's playground, -and racing men as the devil's disciples; furthermore, he had sternly -imposed this faith upon his children. - -Mostyn had never accepted his father's views, though he did not -dispute them. He liked horses without understanding them, and he had -a good seat in the saddle, though his opportunities for riding were -few and far between. It was natural that he should have a more open -mind than either of his two elder brothers, James and Charles, for -they had been brought up at home under their father's influence, -while Mostyn had enjoyed an Eton and Oxford education, this being due -to the intervention of his mother, now dead, who had probably vaguely -realised that her elder sons were developing into prigs. - -Mostyn, however, so far had respected his father's prejudices. He -had never risked a penny in gambling of any sort; he had refused all -invitations to attend race meetings; he had even avoided the theatre, -this because he felt it his duty as his father's son. It was not an -easy task for him, for his instincts were all towards the natural -enjoyment of life: he was just a healthy-minded, well-intentioned -young Englishman with nothing of the prig about him. Luckily for -himself he developed a taste for athletics, and so by his prowess on -the river and in the football field he gained respect both at school -and University, and his prejudices were overlooked or readily -forgiven. Mostyn never confided to anyone, till Pierce came upon the -scene, how irksome these restraints were to him, how his inmost soul -militated against them. - -It was after he came down from Oxford and set to work to study for -the Bar that he met Pierce Trelawny. Pierce was already engaged to -Cicely, Mostyn's sister, though the match had not met with the -unqualified approval of John Clithero, who considered the young man -worldly-minded and fast because he went to theatres and attended -race-meetings; and besides, the whole Trelawny family were -conspicuously sporting. On the other hand, there was no question as -to the desirability of the engagement from the social and monetary -point of view, and it was to these considerations that Cicely's -father had yielded, seeing nothing unreasonable in this shelving of -his principles in favour of Mammon. As for Pierce, he was in love -with Cicely, whose nature was akin to that of her brother Mostyn; and -he did not worry his head about the rest of her family, whom he -placidly despised, until he discovered that Mostyn was fashioned in a -different mould. After that the two young men became firm friends, -and went about a good deal together, though John Clithero looked on -askance, believing that his son was being led astray; indeed, there -had been one or two rather stormy scenes, for a new spirit had been -aroused in Mostyn's breast, a desire to unfurl the standard of revolt. - -Then came the great temptation. Pierce Trelawny had received an -invitation to drive down to the Derby on his uncle's coach, and had -been told that he might take a friend with him. "Why not bring your -future brother-in-law?" Sir Roderick suggested. "I mean the lad you -introduced to me in the Park the other day. Rowed for his college, -didn't he? Was in the Eton eight, and did well at racquets? That's -the sort of boy I like--a young sportsman." - -"God bless my soul!" the old gentleman cried, when Pierce explained -that Mostyn had never seen a race, and the reason for this neglect. -"I did not know that any sensible people held such views nowadays. -They even wanted to keep us at work at Westminster on Derby day," he -added, with apparent inconsistency, "but I don't look for sense in -the House of Commons! That's why I went into Parliament." He meant, -of course, that it was his object to convince his fellow-members of -their folly. - -Sir Roderick was returned for one of the divisions of Ulster, and had -held his seat, undisputed, for many years. He was a Tory of the old -school, staunchly loyal, and to his mind no other views were -admissible. Politics, therefore, in the sense of party division, did -not exist. He loathed the very word. He would say irritably, "Don't -talk to me of politics, I hate 'em--and, besides, there's no such -thing." His Irishisms and unconscious word contortions contributed -to the amusement of the House as well as to his personal popularity. - -"Bring young Clithero, Pierce," he said decidedly. "It'll do him -good, open his eyes a bit. He's too fine a lad to have his head -stuffed with such nonsensical ideas. How old is he, did you say? -Twenty-five? Well, he's quite old enough to have a will of his own." -All of which was perfectly true, but Sir Roderick, as well as Pierce, -overlooked the fact that Mostyn was utterly dependent upon his father. - -As it happened, John Clithero was absent from London when Pierce -conveyed Sir Roderick's invitation to Mostyn, and so he could not be -consulted: the hopeless task of asking his approval could not be -undertaken. It was open to Mostyn to keep his own counsel: to go to -the Derby on the sly--a course that did not commend itself to his -straightforward nature--or to make confession when his father -returned, which would be two or three days after the Derby had been -run. Letter-writing was out of the question, too, for John Clithero -was actually on his way home from America, where he had been upon -business. He was a banker, head of the old established house of -Graves and Clithero, a firm of the highest repute and universally -considered as stable as the Bank of England, all the more so because -of the high standard of morality demanded of all connected with it, -from the partners to the humblest employee. - -Mostyn did not hesitate long. He wanted to see the Derby, and he was -asked to go as the guest of a man who was universally respected. -Only rank prejudice could assert harm in this. It was time to make -his protest. And so, the evening before the race, he quietly -announced his intention to his horrified brothers. - -"A beastly race-course," sniffed James. "All the riff-raff of -London. An encouragement to gambling, drunkenness, and vice." James -was a perfect type of the "good young man"; than that no more need be -said. - -"Just because father happens to be away," remarked Charles; "I -suppose that's your idea of honour, Mostyn." Charles was always -talking about honour. He was unhealthily stout, had pasty cheeks and -long yellow hair that lacked vitality. - -"I think Mostyn's quite right, and I wish I was going too," -proclaimed Cicely the rebellious. - -And so the wrangle proceeded. It was distinctly uncomfortable, but -Mostyn was quite determined to abide by his decision. Nor had he -changed his mind when the next day came. - -Owing to the behaviour of Captain Armitage it had not at first been -particularly pleasant for Mostyn upon the coach, but Pierce and Mr. -Royce had come to the rescue, the former engaging the attention of -the captain, while the latter took the boy in hand and explained -certain things that he ought to know about racing. It was all done -with such infinite tact that Mostyn was soon at his ease, able to -enjoy the fund of anecdote with which Anthony Royce enlivened the -journey, as well as the scenes by the way, the ever-changing -panorama, of which he had read, but which he had never expected to -see. - -He spoke little, but his eyes glittered with excitement. To him it -was as though he was being carried into a new world, a world with -which his soul was in sympathy, but the gates of which had always -been closed. And yet it was not so strange to him as he had -expected: perhaps in his dreams he had gazed through the gates, or -even travelled down that very road upon a visionary coach that -threaded its way proudly amid the heterogeneous traffic. So, despite -his ignorance and inexperience, he felt in his element; he was a -sportsman by instinct, so he told himself, and all these years he had -been crushing down his true nature. Well, it was not too late to -repair the mischief: for now he knew--he knew. - -Anthony Royce watched him with kindly appreciative eyes. There were -moments, though Mostyn was far too absorbed to notice this, when his -broad forehead wrinkled into a frown as he gazed into the young man's -face; it was a peculiar enigmatical frown, suggestive of an effort to -think back into the past, to pierce the veil of years. - -Mostyn could hold himself in no longer when the coach had taken up -its place under the hill, and when Sir Roderick, by his little -speech, had discharged his obligation towards his guests. A few -moments of bustle followed. Captain Armitage, champagne bottle in -hand, was filling a glass for Lord Caldershot, who was stooping down -from his place upon the coach to take it; Rada was intently studying -a race-card and comparing it with a little pink paper--a paper issued -by some tipster or other; most of the other guests had already -descended and mingled with the crowd. Among these was Pierce, who -had hurried off after his uncle in the direction of the Paddock. - -Mostyn stood up in his place; he was quivering with excitement, all -his nerves seemed on edge. He stared about him and took in at a -glance the whole wonderful sight--the restless mass of humanity -seething over hill and dale, humanity in all its gradations, from the -coster and his lass to the top-hatted men and smartly-dressed women -who mingled with the throng till they found their centre in the -enclosure and Grand Stand. The highest in all the land and the -lowest--silk, satin, muslin, rags--Mayfair and Whitechapel--Tom, -Dick, Harry, as alive and playful to-day as in the forties--they were -all there just as Mostyn had read of them many a time. The white -tents, the extravagantly dressed bookmakers, the itinerant musicians -and jugglers, the gipsies. He drew a deep breath; he was looking -upon the world! - -"I'm glad I came," he cried, forgetting for the moment that he was -not alone. "For now I know what it is to be alive." - -His voice shook. Anthony Royce laid his hand gently upon the boy's -shoulder. "I like your enthusiasm," he said, "I understand it. You -are just making your debût upon a larger stage, and it is a little -overwhelming. Well, I'll put you through your paces, my boy. Leave -yourself in my hands and you won't regret it. I'll guarantee that -your first Derby Day shall not be your last." - -Mostyn accepted joyfully. "You're awfully kind, sir," he said. "I'm -afraid I should have a poor time by myself, and I don't like to -bother Pierce--besides, he wants to be with Sir Roderick. It's good -of you to pity my ignorance. I wonder why you do it?" - -Royce made no reply--probably none was expected. Only that strange -enigmatical smile came once more to his face, and for a moment his -eyes were vacant--again it was as though he were looking back into -the past. - -To himself Mostyn muttered: "Sufficient unto the day is the evil -thereof." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -MOSTYN SEES THE DERBY. - -An hour before the big race Mostyn stood in the Paddock, by the side -of his mentor, and pretended to pass a critical eye upon the horses -generally, and upon Hipponous in particular. - -The second favourite was a chestnut with three white stockings. His -mane had been hogged, and he had--for a racehorse--an unusually large -tail. Tyro as he was, Mostyn could understand the value of the large -roomy flanks and magnificent barrel, and as the colt picked its way -delicately round the circle, sweating slightly from excitement and -glancing intelligently from side to side, it seemed as if he -appreciated the fact that it was Derby Day, and realised the -magnitude of the task before him. - -A kaleidoscopic crowd surged round the horse, a crowd that Mostyn -failed to understand till Royce explained that the "open sesame" to -the Paddock could be obtained by the payment of a sovereign, which -accounted for the general rubbing of shoulders and absence of class -distinction. - -Scraps of conversation, indistinctly overheard, amused, astonished, -and perhaps instructed, him. There was a portly woman with a red -face and a large feather hat, who pushed her way to the front, and -said wheezingly to a thin little man at her side: "'Ullo, 'ere's -Black Diamond." - -"No, it ain't," responded her companion. "Look at the number. -That's 'Ippernouse. He won the Middle Park Plate when I 'ad a dollar -on 'im, and I'm going to put a couple o' quid on 'im to-day." - -"I'll back Black Diamond," returned the fat woman, "because my first -husband kept a small public called the 'Lord Napier' up past the -'Nag's Head' before we were married, and Black Diamond belongs to -Lord Napier, so that's good enough for my money." - -They drifted away and their place was taken by a couple of -shrewd-looking club-men in long covert cloaks and bowler hats, with -glasses slung over their shoulders. Mostyn heard one of them say to -the other in an undertone: "Here's Hipponous. Look at his -magnificent quarters. Don't forget to wire off immediately to Cork -if he wins, and tell Dickson that I'll take the colt he has in his -stables, brother to Hipponous, and if he throws the mare in I'll pay -two thousand guineas for the pair." - -This was business, and presently Mostyn heard business of another -kind. "I like the looks of 'Ippernous," said a loudly dressed -individual with white hat and check waistcoat--obviously a -book-maker--to his clerk. "We can't afford to let him run loose, and -I'll put fifty on for the book." - -The remarks, however, were not all appreciative. There was a tall -man with a vacant stare and a monocle, who was drawling out his -comments to a well-dressed woman at his side. "Not an earthly, my -dear. Don't waste your money on Hipponous. The favourite can't -possibly lose. Algy told me at the club last night that he had laid -six monkeys to four on it, and if it doesn't come off he'll have to -tap the old man again or send in his papers." - -Then again: "What on earth do they call this horse Hipponous for?" -queried a pretty little soubrette, hanging on the arm of a young -gentleman in a very long frock coat, suggestive of the counter. -"Don't know, Ellice," was the reply, "but give me Lochiel, the -fav'rit." "Oh, no," she urged, "do back Hipponous! He's got such -pretty colours--scarlet and silver--just like that dress I had last -Christmas for the Licensed Victuallers' Ball." - -Finally, there was the comment facetious: "'Ippernous," said a -seedy-looking man with pasty face to the lad who was leading the colt -round, "W'y didn't they call 'im 'Ipperpotamus, an' a' done with it? -A fine lookin' colt, mind yer, but not quite good enough to beat the -fav'rit, 'oo will 'ave the satisfaction of carryin' a couple of -Oxfords for Jim Simson of Kemberwell." - -Mostyn had but a dim understanding of all this, but his heart leapt -within him when Pierce came up, and smiting him cordially on the -back, carried him off to wish good luck to Sir Roderick, who was -standing by the side of his horse in the company of Joseph Dean, the -famous trainer, and of Fred Martin, the jockey, who held the record -of winning mounts for the year before. Martin wore Sir Roderick's -colours--silver and scarlet--and his little twinkling eyes glittered -as he confided to Mostyn that he was proud to wear them, and that he -had every confidence in his horse--that he hoped to score his fifth -Derby success. - -Mostyn felt in the seventh heaven, a privileged being, all the more -so since envious eyes were upon him. It was all he could do to hold -himself with becoming gravity. His great desire was to pose as a man -of experience, but, at the same time, there were so many questions he -wished to ask. And at last his evil genius impelled him to an -ineptitude, one of those blunders that seemed to come so easily to -his tongue: he wanted to know Hipponous's age! Something in the -jockey's stare as he made answer warned Mostyn of danger, and he -moved away as soon as he dared. - -"That's 'Ipponous, ain't it?" An ungrammatical stranger, who, in -spite of his horsey attire, was evidently but poorly informed, pushed -his way to Mostyn's side. "A fine horse--what?" - -"I should think so," responded the young man heartily. "An Irish -horse; comes from Sir Roderick Macphane's stables in Ulster. Trained -by Joseph Dean here at Epsom." Mostyn felt on safe ground in giving -this information. - -"Ah!" The stranger leered out of the corner of his eye. "I dessay -you know a bit, what? I see you talking to Martin just now. What -does Martin think of his mount?" - -"Why, he says"--Mostyn got no further, for luckily at that moment -Anthony Royce appeared, and, laying his hand upon his young friend's -arm gently led him away, very much to the annoyance of the stranger. - -"Be careful of affable folk who try to get into conversation with you -on the race-course," was all the reproach that Royce uttered; but -Mostyn felt that he had been about to blunder, and once more -anathematised himself for a fool. - -The American did not lose sight of his young _protégé_ again after -that, but devoted himself to his work of instruction. Mostyn -absorbed knowledge eagerly. "I asked Martin how old his horse was," -he was constrained to admit. - -Royce's sides shook with silent laughter. "Never mind," he said. -"You'll know better next time." Then he went on to explain about -betting, and how easily the market may be affected. "If you want to -have a bet," he added, "I'll introduce you in the right quarter. You -can't do better than back Hipponous to win and a place. He'll start -at four to one. I don't believe in the favourite, though it's money -on." - -But Mostyn shook his head. "I don't want to bet," he said. -"Gambling doesn't attract me a bit. It's just the sport of the -thing." - -And so the time had passed until the course was cleared for the big -race. Mostyn had remained in the Paddock almost to the last minute, -and then Royce had hurried him back to the coach. They had remained -close to the railings, however, to see the preliminary canter. - -"I don't fancy the favourite," Royce repeated. "Lochiel may have won -the Guineas, but he's got a devilish uncertain temper. He'll either -win in a walk or come in with the ruck. But there's a lot of good -stuff," he continued, as the horses galloped down the course, -followed by the comments of the crowd, "and it promises to be an -uncommonly open race." - -Anthony Royce's prophecy was correct. The race proved an extremely -open one, and moreover it was full of surprises, notably the early -defeat of the favourite and the prowess of a rank outsider. Lochiel -made a bad start and dropped out long before the horses had come into -the straight, while Peveril, who had hardly been considered at all -and who stood fifty to one in the betting, got away ahead and -maintained his lead almost to the finish. At Tattenham Corner -Peveril, a lanky, ungainly horse, bestridden by an American jockey -who bore the colours of an unpopular financier, was still, though -almost imperceptibly, in advance. The jockey, craning forward and -sitting almost upon the horse's neck, was making liberal use of his -whip. - -Royce took the field-glasses from Mostyn's unconscious hand. -"Peveril, by all that's holy!" he muttered. "A dark horse. Is this -one of Isaacson's tricks?" The next moment he was yelling -"Hipponous! Come along, Hipponous!" for he had caught the glitter of -the silver as Sir Roderick's horse, almost neck to neck with another, -swept into view. - -And now a moment of palpitating silence fell. Four of the horses -were almost abreast, and another couple only a few paces behind. -Mostyn, standing up upon the coach and straining his eyes, felt his -heart thumping against his chest and his knees knocking together -because of the thrill that ran down his spine. He wanted to shout, -but he, too, was affected by the spell that had fallen upon that -great throbbing mass of humanity; his tongue clave to the roof of his -mouth; his lips were numb, paralysed. In a few moments he knew that -he would lend his voice to the great cry that must go up from the -multitude; then would come relief from a strain that was near the -breaking point. - -He had no bet upon the race, save for a couple of shares in a -sweepstake that had been organised on the way down; yet, perhaps, -none in that vast throng, however interested, however deeply -involved, felt the emotion of the moment as keenly as Mostyn -Clithero. It was the awakening of a new sensation, the rousing of a -new passion, something that had been crushed down and was asserting -itself with the greater strength now that it had at last obtained the -mastery. It was the love of sport for its own sake; Anthony Royce -had seen quite enough of his new friend during the day to realise -that. - -The silence broke. Like an oncoming billow a low mutter, gradually -swelling and rising, went up from the crowd. Mostyn had the -impression of two vast waves facing each other, arrested in their -onward rush and leaving a clear space between. He felt himself an -atom amid a myriad of atoms in a turbulent sea: he had been in the -depths, unable to breathe, oppressed by a great weight, but now, as -he rose to the surface, the tension was relaxed, the strain broken. -He could see, he could hear, he was shouting with the rest, -alternately clapping his hands and lifting his hat in the air, -yielding himself absolutely to an excitement which was as new to him -as it was delightful. Never before had his pulses throbbed so -quickly, his nerves felt so completely on the stretch. - -The horses swept by. It was a fine, a memorable race, a race to live -in the annals of great sporting events. There was every excuse for -Mostyn's excitement. His was not the only heart to beat quickly that -day. - -Three horses, almost abreast, approached the winning-post. They were -Peveril, Black Diamond, and Hipponous; a fourth, Beppo, had dropped a -little behind, evidently done. Peveril was not in favour with the -crowd; it was mainly for Hipponous that the cry went up. Mostyn -yelled the name of Sir Roderick's colt till he was hoarse. - -"Come on Hipponous! Hip--Hip--Hipponous!" - -And at the last moment, just as it seemed that Sir Roderick's hopes -were to be dashed to the ground, Hipponous made a brave spurt. He -was placed between the other two, his flanks just visible behind -them. Suddenly these flanks were no longer seen; the three horses -appeared a compact mass, a mass of blended and harmonised colour. -Mostyn seemed to see the silver and scarlet through a yellow mist, -for the sun's rays fell slantingly over the course; they caught the -gold, the pink and the mauve which distinguished the jockeys upon -Peveril and Black Diamond, as well as the silver and scarlet of -Hipponous, blending the whole into a scintillating gold, all the more -vivid for the black background of humanity rising tier upon tier to -the highest level of the Grand Stand. - -Which horse, if any, had the lead? It was impossible to say. - -They flashed past the winning post, a gleaming mass of colour. Three -horses, neck to neck as it seemed to the crowd. Which had won? Was -it--could it be--a tie for the three of them? There was a note of -doubt in the yelling of the mob. - -"Peveril--no, Black Diamond!" "I tell yer it was 'Ippernous! Wait -till the numbers go up!" - -Beppo and the other horses which had been well in the running, sped -by in their turn; then came the stragglers with the favourite, -Lochiel, last but one. A groan of derision went up as he passed; it -was a bad day for his jockey, who happened to be Martin's chief rival. - -After that the course became a sea of black, rushing humanity; the -two great waves had broken and the space between them was -annihilated. And presently there was another roar from the crowd, no -longer of doubt. The numbers had gone up, and, a little later, the -"all right" was cried. Hipponous first; Black Diamond and Peveril -tied for second place. Bravo, Hipponous! Hurrah for Sir Roderick -Macphane! - -Another Derby had been won, and the victory was to the best horse. -Sir Roderick Macphane had realised the ambition of his life, and -Mostyn Clithero had caught the infection of a great passion. The -latter, no doubt, was but a small event in itself, but the young man -felt vaguely, as he stood there gazing straight before him, though -the race was over, that he had somehow reached a turning point in his -life. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -MOSTYN ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE. - -"You enjoyed it?" Anthony Royce laid his hand on Mostyn's arm and -looked smilingly into his face. It was palpably a superfluous -question, for Mostyn's appreciation was plainly writ upon every -feature. He was flushed and his lips were quivering, nor could he -give an immediate answer, finding it hard to struggle back from the -new world in which he had been revelling to the commonplaces of life. - -Yet he felt that he was being keenly scrutinised; that those sharp -grey eyes were fixed upon him, taking in every detail of his -appearance, reading him like a book, gauging his emotions, studying, -not only his face but his very soul. He wondered if he appeared a -fool, and grew hot at the thought. - -"It's my first Derby," he said apologetically, taking refuge in a -self-evident fact. "I have never seen a race before." - -"And you enjoyed it?" Royce repeated his question, rather for the -sake of opening conversation than for any other reason. - -"Enjoyed it!" Mostyn placed a heavy accent upon the first word. -"Why, I don't think I have ever enjoyed anything so much in all my -life. I haven't been alive till to-day. Oh!" he cried, clasping his -hands together, and yet half ashamed of giving utterance to such a -sentiment, "how I should like to win a Derby myself!" - -Royce laughed, aloud this time. "Who knows?" he, remarked; "the -future is on the knees of the gods." Once more his grey eyes -appeared to be reading the young man's face, taking in every detail -of his appearance. - -Mostyn Clithero was good to look at, or so the older man was telling -himself, as he wondered if it could be possible that an idea which -had come into his head earlier in the day, might have foundation in -fact; that reminiscent look, that semblance of gazing back into the -past, had returned to Royce's eyes, and for the moment he seemed to -have forgotten all else. - -"There is something in the boy's face that reminds me of her," he was -muttering to himself. "It's about the eyes or about the mouth--I'm -not quite sure which. Anyway, if I should turn out to be right, the -lad's got nothing of his father about him, and I'm glad of that; I'm -glad of that." - -Mostyn was indeed a young man whose personal appearance might attract -attention. He was tall, standing well over six foot, and broad of -shoulder in proportion. His athletic training had done much for him, -and he was in every way, physically as well as mentally, a contrast -to his two brothers. He had often been told, indeed, that he -resembled his mother, who in her younger days had been stately and -handsome, a recognised beauty in London society, while James and -Charles were always supposed to take after their father. Mostyn had -fair hair, which he wore cut short, striving thereby to overcome its -tendency to curl, an attempt at which he was not always quite -successful; his eyes were blue, very large and gentle, though they -could be stern at times, as could his lips, which were otherwise -prone to smile. - -Anthony Royce, who had a keen insight into the minds of men, and who -had observed the boy very carefully almost from the first moment of -their meeting, was pleased with what he had seen, and, for more -reasons than one, felt well disposed towards Mostyn Clithero. - -He glanced at his watch. "I guess we'll stop here awhile," he said; -"it's restful. Besides, I want to have a quiet chat with you." He -took a bulky cigar-case from his pocket, extracted a large and dark -cigar, which he proceeded to light up. Then he offered the case to -his young friend. - -Mostyn shook his head. He did not smoke; it was one of those things -to which his father objected. - -They had been standing upon the box of the coach, and it was here -that they seated themselves, Royce occupying the driver's place. He -puffed thoughtfully at the cigar before breaking the silence. Mostyn -sat silent too, wondering what this new friend of his would have to -say, and why Anthony Royce, the American millionaire, should have -apparently taken so much interest in him. Mostyn had hardly given a -thought to the matter before, but now he was more collected, more -himself, and the things seemed strange to him. - -"I have a curious idea," so Royce began at last, "that though you and -I have never met before, Clithero, I was once acquainted both with -your mother and with your father. I thought so from the first moment -we met in Eaton Square, and I have been watching you and have noticed -all manner of little tricks of expression which remind me of Mary -Clithero--Mary Willoughby as she was, she who I fancy must be your -mother." He was gazing straight before him, blowing out great clouds -of smoke. - -"Yes, my mother's name was Willoughby!" cried Mostyn, surprised. -"How strange to think that you should have known her all those years -ago! And you never saw her after her marriage? She is dead now, you -know." - -Royce nodded his head gravely. "She'd have been alive to-day"--he -began, then broke off suddenly. "I never met your mother as Mrs. -Clithero," he continued after a pause. "It would not have been well -for either of us. We loved each other once: Mary Willoughby is the -only woman who has ever influenced my life. We were to have been -married." - -"I never heard of this; I was never told." Mostyn opened wondering -eyes and stared at his companion with new interest. - -"No, it is hardly likely that you would have been told." A great -bitterness had come into Royce's tone. "The whole affair was a -discreditable one. Your mother was not to blame; pray understand -that at once." The words were called for because Mostyn had flushed -and glanced up quickly. "I think as dearly of your mother to-day as -ever in the past, and it is for her sake, Mostyn--for I must call you -Mostyn--that I have been taking such an interest in you. She was -deceived, and so I lost her." - -He paused; for a second Mostyn could hardly see his face, because of -the volume of smoke that he emitted from his lips. - -"Do you wish to speak to me of this?" Mostyn asked, a slight frown -wrinkling his brow. He felt instinctively that the whole story might -be one that it would be better for him not to know. - -Royce shrugged his shoulders. "No," he said slowly; "the subject is -painful to me even after all these years, and it might be painful to -you to hear it. I only wanted to know that you are really the son of -the woman I loved. Your father dealt badly with me, Mostyn, and I -have never forgiven him. I suppose he feels just the same towards -me. John Clithero was always a hard man, the sort of man who would -never forgive anyone whom he has injured." The words were spoken -with bitter sarcasm. Mostyn looked away and shuffled with his feet, -for he knew that they were true, and yet, since they were spoken of -his father, he felt vaguely that he was called upon to resent them. - -"That brings me to my point," Royce went on, after a moment's pause. -"I think I am right in believing that you have come to the Derby -to-day without your father's knowledge, and if he knows there will be -the devil to pay. I don't suppose Clithero has changed much, and, -according to his ideas, a man who ventures upon a race-course is -travelling the devil's high road. It's wonderful what some men's -minds are capable of!" Royce took his cigar from his mouth and gazed -at Mostyn from under his heavy brows. "I wonder you've turned out so -well," he commented. - -"I expect I'm all in the wrong for being here at all," Mostyn said, -the colour flushing his face. He could never rid himself of that -disposition to blush. "But I couldn't help it," he went on; "I -wanted to come, the desire of it was in my blood." He laughed -awkwardly. "I suppose I am different somehow to the rest of my -people." - -"I am very glad you are. You take after your mother, Mostyn, for she -came of a healthy-minded stock. But now, tell me, what will happen -when you get home? Or do you propose to keep this little jaunt a -secret?" The grey eyes fixed upon Mostyn were searching. - -"I shall tell my father that I went to the Derby," Mostyn replied -with some defiance in his tone, for he hated the suggestion of -underhand dealing. "I have made no secret of it to anyone. My -father is not at home just now, but I shall tell him when he returns." - -"Good!" Anthony Royce knocked the ash from his cigar, an ash which -he had allowed to grow to inordinate length. "I like a man who acts -straight and isn't ashamed of what he does. But there will be a row?" - -"I expect so." Mostyn nodded. What was the use of denying the -obvious? - -"A serious row?" - -"Very possibly." Mostyn fidgeted. What was the good of all these -questions? He had put aside the evil day, determined to live in the -present. He was enjoying himself; why spoil his pleasure? A bell -rang and the police could be seen clearing the course. Another race -was about to be run. Mostyn fumbled with his programme. "Who's -going to win this event?" he asked. - -"A devil of a row, if I'm not mistaken," Anthony Royce said -reflectively, ignoring the question. "John Clithero would sacrifice -his flesh and blood upon the altar of his principles. I'm afraid you -will get into trouble, my boy. Well, what I want to say is this. -Come to me if things go badly with you. Don't let any silly pride -stand in your way. I've got an idea in my head, and you can help me -work it out. You will be doing me a favour, far more than the other -way about. You needn't think it a matter of charity--I'm not that -kind of man. Furthermore, it's nothing mean or underhand that I -shall ask you--to that you have my word." Royce had evidently read -the young man's character very well. "Now--supposing your father -shows you the door--he may, you know--will you come to me?" - -"I will," Mostyn stretched out his hand, a strong, well-made hand, -and the elder man took it in his, holding it a moment, and looking -the boy squarely in the eyes. - -"That's a deal," he said, heartily; "I shall expect to see you, -Mostyn." - -After the next race, a race over which Mostyn's enthusiasm was again -roused, though not to the same pitch as before, the guests upon Sir -Roderick's coach returned in little straggling groups to partake of -tea. Sir Roderick himself, flushed with his victory, did the -honours, and received the congratulations of all his friends. He was -bubbling over with good spirits, perpetrated innumerable verbal -blunders, at which he was the first to laugh, and distributed -"largesse" freely among the hangers-on about the coach--this, until -such a crowd of minstrels, gipsies, and such like had collected that -it was all the grooms could do to disperse them; but it was a -good-natured, cheering crowd, and Sir Roderick was distinctly -enjoying himself. - -Captain Armitage, his white beard and moustache contrasting forcibly -with his rubicund complexion, disdained tea, and appropriated a -champagne bottle to himself. He was less excitable than he had been -on the journey down, but then, as he would say himself, he was the -kind of man whom drink sobered. Lady Lempiere and Major Molyneux -were conspicuous by their absence, but all the other guests had put -in an appearance. Lord Caldershot was still assiduous in his -attentions to Rada, who, for her part, was in a state of delight at -having won the coach sweepstake, as well as several pounds, the -proceeds of her own investment upon Hipponous, plus many pairs of -gloves which she had apparently won off her cavalier. - -She was a distinctly pretty girl; Mostyn, who had had some -opportunities of talking to her during the day, was constrained to -admit the fact. He was attracted by her, and yet, at the same time, -in some peculiar manner, repelled. She was unlike any girl he had -ever met. She had no reserve of manner, she spoke as freely as a man -might speak, and yet her whole appearance was distinctly feminine. - -"Rada Armitage is a little savage," so Royce had explained her to -Mostyn. "She has lived all her life with that wretched old -scapegrace, her father, for her mother died when she was an infant. -She has never known a controlling hand. Heaven knows how they -exist--Armitage's cottage at Partingborough is a disgrace to a -civilised man. Rada's like an untrained filly, and you must take her -at that. She was called after a horse, too, one upon which the -captain won a lot of money the year she was born." - -The girl was small in stature, although she was slim and perfectly -proportioned, giving, perhaps, an impression of inches which she -really did not possess. Her hair was deep black, glossy, and -inclined to be rebellious; her eyes, too, were black, very bright, -piercing, and particularly expressive. They seemed to change in some -peculiar way with every emotion that swayed her; one moment they -would be soft, the next they would flash with humour, and then again -they would be scornfully defiant. As with her eyes, so it was with -her mouth and with her face generally; to Mostyn she was a puzzle, -and he wondered what her real nature could be. - -He took the opportunity of dispensing tea to improve his -acquaintance. He felt that the girl watched him surreptitiously, -and, self-conscious as he always was, he had an idea that there was a -rather derisive curl upon her lips. Probably she had not forgotten -his _faux pas_ of the morning. - -Unfortunately he found it more difficult than he had anticipated to -take part in the conversation. Sir Roderick was telling of the -merits of a two-year-old, named Pollux, which he had in his Irish -stables, and which he had entered for next year's Derby. - -"If Hipponous hadn't won to-day," he remarked enthusiastically, "I -feel that I should have had a dead cert with Pollux. That's saying a -lot, of course, but you never saw such a perfect colt. Sired by -Jupiter, with Stella for dam--you can't have better breeding than -that." - -"Ah--ah," laughed Captain Armitage, lifting his glass to his lips -with shaking hand. "That's all very well, 'Rory,' my boy, but what -about Castor? His sire was Jupiter, too, and his dam Swandown; she -was a perfect mare, though I never had much luck with her, and she -died after the foal was born. Still--there's Castor----" He broke -into one of his cackling laughs. "It'll be a race between Castor and -Pollux for the Derby next year." He stood up, then realising a -certain unsteadiness of his limbs, sat down again. - -Sir Roderick smiled benignly, and proceeded to explain to the company -that this rivalry between Castor and Pollux was no new thing. The -two colts had been born within a week of each other, and had been -named, not so much according to their parentage as because they -resembled each other so minutely. They were both perfect animals, -and there was little to choose between them. - -Mostyn listened attentively to the conversation, gathering up scraps -of knowledge, and storing them in his brain. He talked when he -could, but he would have been wiser to have kept silent, for, towards -the close of the day, and when preparations for departure were being -made, he committed a _faux pas_ which quite eclipsed his other -efforts. - -He had allowed his enthusiasm to master him once more, and had lost -guard of his tongue--as ill-luck would have it, in the presence of -Rada. He could quite understand how it might be the height of -anyone's ambition to own a Derby winner, so he exclaimed; then he -added--as a little while earlier to Royce--"How I should love to win -a Derby!" Immediately after which he turned and enquired of Sir -Roderick if Hipponous was not entered for the Oaks as well. - -He bitterly regretted that speech, for even Anthony Royce and Pierce -were constrained to laugh, while as for Captain Armitage, he simply -rolled in his seat. But it was not that so much that Mostyn minded, -though he stammered and blushed crimson, and began muttering some -excuse. What hurt him was the look of scorn and derision that -flashed into Rada's eyes. - -"You win a Derby!" she cried disdainfully. "Are you sure you know a -horse from a cow? Why, you silly boy, you couldn't win a Derby if -you lived to a hundred! I'd stake my life on that." - -Poor Mostyn choked with indignation, the insult was so deliberate and -spoken so openly. How he wished it was a man with whom he had to -deal! - -"I----" he began hesitatingly, then paused, for Rada interrupted him. - -"Would you like to have a bet on it?" she asked mockingly. - -Mostyn looked round. He saw Captain Armitage's red face suffused and -congested with laughter; he caught a supercilious sneer on the lips -of Lord Caldershot. He was boiling over with suppressed rage. - -Suddenly he felt a nudge from the elbow of Anthony Royce, who was -sitting next to him, and a whisper in his ear. - -"Say yes. In ten years." - -Mostyn did not understand. The whisper was repeated. - -"Bet anything you like you win a Derby in ten years." - -The little diversion had passed unnoticed. Rada repeated her mocking -question. - -Mostyn pulled himself together. He had no time to think, to weigh -his words. He did not even realise the import of them. The wrath of -his heart dictated his answer. - -"I never bet. But all the same I'll undertake to win a Derby within -reasonable time: ten years--five years," he added recklessly, in -spite of the protesting nudge of Royce's elbow. - -"Jove, what a brave man!" drawled Caldershot. His languid tone -exasperated Mostyn to fury. - -"In five years," he repeated. "I'd stake my life upon it, too. I -call you all to witness." - -"Whatever's the boy saying?" It was good-natured Sir Roderick who -intervened. "I'm not going to have anybody staking their life upon -my coach. We can't go upsetting the market like that." - -In the laugh that followed Pierce deftly turned the conversation, and -soon, with the bustle of departure, the whole incident was more or -less forgotten. Mostyn, however, sat silent and absorbed. - -What had appeared a farce to others was to him very real. What was -this that he had undertaken to do? To win a Derby, and in five -years--he who was utterly inexperienced and who possessed no -resources whatever? - -What had Anthony Royce meant by inciting him to such a speech? He -wanted to put the question, but the American imposed silence upon him. - -"We can't talk now. Don't worry yourself; it will be all right. You -shall hear from me first thing to-morrow. It's no longer a matter of -waiting for the row at home: you've got to be a racing man, Mostyn, -whether your father approves or no." He smiled his enigmatical -smile, and his shoulders shook with inward laughter. During the -whole of the return journey he led the conversation, and would not -allow it to depart from general topics. - -But at parting he pressed Mostyn's hand meaningly. "You are a -sportsman from to-day, my boy," he said. "Don't forget that. It's -all part of the scheme, and you have pledged your word. To-morrow -you shall hear from me and you'll understand." - -Pierce walked with Mostyn a few paces, then hailed a cab. "I'm going -to dine at the club," he said. "What do you say to joining me?" But -Mostyn shook his head; his one desire now was to return home, to be -alone to think things out. He, too, called a hansom and drove to his -father's house in Bryanston Square. - -A surprise awaited him there. His sister Cicely came running down to -the hall to meet him, her hands outstretched, her face pale. At the -same time Mostyn fancied that he caught sight of the pasty face of -his brother Charles peering through the half-closed dining-room door. - -"Oh, Mostyn!" cried the girl. "Father's come back. He left by an -earlier boat and reached London to-day. He knows all about the -Derby, and he is furiously angry; he is in his study and wants to see -you at once." - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -MOSTYN IS REBELLIOUS. - -Father and son faced each other in the large oak-panelled study. The -storm had burst, raged, and subsided, but the calm which had followed -was an ominous one, and liable to be broken at any moment. Mostyn -recognised that the worst was yet to come. - -John Clithero was unaccustomed to opposition. His rule had been -absolute; he had governed with an iron rod. He was that greatest of -tyrants, a man conscious of rectitude. But, perhaps, for the very -rarity of such an event, he could not control his temper when -thwarted. In this his son had the better of him. - -Yet the situation was galling to Mostyn. It was undignified to be -standing there in his father's study just as if he were a child -awaiting punishment. His associations with this room were of no -pleasant order, and he hated it accordingly. John Clithero had been -stern with his children, and had not spared the rod. - -Mostyn glanced about him: the study was just the same to-day as it -had been in those early years. There were the long book-shelves with -their array of handsomely-bound books, which, however, as far as -Mostyn knew, were never touched. The heavy oak panelling was -oppressive, and the chairs, covered with dark red morocco, were stiff -and uncomfortable. There were some plaster casts of classical -subjects on the top of the book-cases, casts that had become grimy -with age, and which Mostyn had always looked up to with peculiar -reverence. He glanced at them now, and noticed that Pallas Athene -had been badly cracked, evidently quite recently, and that the crack -had extended to her nose, part of which had been broken away. Pallas -Athene presented an absurd figure, and Mostyn felt inclined to laugh -at her. She was no longer glorified in his eyes. - -John Clithero sat beside his great desk, a desk that was -old-fashioned in make, for he disdained modern and American -innovations in his own home, however much he might make use of them -in his business office. The desk was piled with papers, which were, -however, all carefully bound with tape--for the banker was, above -all, a man of method. He had not asked his son to be seated, nor had -Mostyn ventured to take a chair; during the whole of the stormy -interview he had stood facing his father, his feet firmly planted -together, his head high. - -In appearance John Clithero was not the ascetic that he professed -himself. He was a stout, burly man, his head sunk low upon his -shoulders, his size and weight suggestive of ill-health. His hair -was thin and grey, while his eyes appeared imbedded in heavy masses -of flesh. He came of a good old country family, but one would not -have thought it to look at him; he was just the type that might be -found as the leading light of a nonconformist chapel. He affected -black broadcloth, and his clothes hung loosely even about his portly -form. It may be that his strict morality and his abhorrence of -worldly pleasures had stood him in good stead, and had helped him to -build up the reputation of his bank, incidentally making a fortune -for himself. He was no hypocrite, but he knew the commercial value -of his doctrines. - -"Am I to understand, Mostyn," he said, pouting out his thick lip, -"that you refuse--you absolutely refuse--to give me your word never -again to attend a race meeting? If that is the case there is very -little more to be said between us." - -"How can I give you my word, father?" Mostyn's voice was not raised, -but he spoke with dogged determination. "I am not a child. I am old -enough to see the world with my own eyes. What harm is there in a -race meeting?" he went on, though he knew that it was useless to -argue with such a man as his father. "If one is sensible and -moderate----" - -John Clithero waved his large fleshy hand with a commanding gesture. -"I don't intend to discuss this matter with you, Mostyn," he -interrupted, "or to consider the rights and the wrongs of racing. I -disapprove of it, and that fact should be quite sufficient for you. -You have grievously offended me by your conduct to-day, and all the -more so since you had in mind to deceive me; you took advantage of my -absence to do a thing which you knew I would not permit; you thought -that I should be none the wiser." - -"That is untrue!" Mostyn flashed out the words, resenting the -imputation upon his honour. "I should have told you what I had done -on your return to London. I made no secret of it." - -John Clithero sneered. "I am at liberty to form my own conclusions," -he remarked. "It is not usual for young men who disobey their -parents to confess to their misdeeds. Luckily, though I cannot trust -you, your brothers are to be relied upon." - -A wave of anger passed over Mostyn, and his lips curved disdainfully. -He had quite expected to be "given away" by his brothers unless he -spoke first. Their minds were too narrow to give him credit for -honesty of purpose. Probably the mischief-maker was the fat and -unwholesome Charles, who had been addicted to sneaking ever since he -was a little boy. What was more, he had always been listened to, at -least by his father, who had never discouraged that sort of thing. - -Mostyn kept his temper under control, however, and merely shrugged -his shoulders. "I can only repeat I should have told you that I had -been to the Derby, and that I see no ill whatever in what I did," he -said stolidly. - -John Clithero drew himself upright in his chair, and his hands, -resting upon his knees, were trembling. It was just as if they were -itching for the cane, to the use of which they had been accustomed. -"So you absolutely refuse to make any promise?" he said sternly. -"You will continue to walk the evil path?" - -"I don't admit the evil path," replied Mostyn doggedly, "and so I can -make no promise to keep from it." - -"Very well." John Clithero's hands dropped from his knees and he -rose to his feet, pushing his chair violently aside. "Then I cut you -adrift, now and for ever! You are no longer son of mine. I wash my -hands of you. Hell is your portion and the portion of your -fellow-sinner!" As with all his kind, the word "hell" came glibly -and sonorously to the man's lips. There were times when he revelled -in biblical phrase, adopting it freely to the needs of the moment. -He sought to do so now, but, confused by his rage, he lost himself in -a maze of ambiguity. Once Mostyn, who stood quietly listening, -supplied him with the word he needed, a course naturally calculated -to aggravate the situation. - -"Silence!" stammered John Clithero. "How dare you interrupt me, -sir?" He came close to his son, his hands clenched as though it was -with difficulty that he repressed a desire to strike. "Off with -you!" he yelled, quite oblivious of the fact that he was standing -between his son and the door; "and when you find yourself starving in -the gutter don't come to me, or to your brothers, for help. The door -shall be shut upon you, understand that, as if you were a beggar!" -All unconsciously the man was betraying his disposition--for none was -harder upon the beggar in the street than he. - -"I quite understand. Will you allow me to pass?" In contrast to his -father, Mostyn had lost none of his dignity. As soon as John -Clithero moved away, recommencing his fierce raging up and down the -room, vowing his son to perdition in this world and the next, Mostyn -stepped firmly to the door. - -John Clithero followed him, panting for breath, a sorry figure. -"Go!" he spluttered, "go to your vile haunts, to your race-courses! -Go!--go to the devil!" The final exclamation was not meant in the -ordinary vulgar sense, but the man was quite beyond the measuring of -his words. - -Mostyn made no reply. He quietly left the room. His father slammed -the door behind him with a noise that re-echoed through the house. -It was the end; the rupture was irreparable. - -Mostyn, biting his lip, pale but determined, made his way slowly -upstairs to his own room. He was glad of one thing--that he had not -lost his temper, and that he had not in any way failed in the respect -that he owed his father; for the rest he felt that he was in the -right, and that it was simply impossible for him to have given the -promise that was demanded of him. Never to attend another race -meeting, with his instincts, the instincts that had been aroused in -him that day--such an undertaking was absurd, impossible. Who could -say what the future might bring forth, especially after the events of -that day? And John Clithero would not have been content with any -half promise; what he had demanded was in the nature of a vow. - -Mostyn had always feared that something of the sort might eventually -come to pass. His home, especially since his mother's death, had -never been a real home to him; he had always felt himself out of -sympathy with his father and brothers, disliked by them. There was -Cicely, whom he cared for, but that was all. He blamed himself now -for not having made provision for such an eventuality. What use to -him was his classical education, his reading for the Bar? He should -have devoted himself to a more practical method of earning his -living. For the rest he did not care: it was not as if his mother -were alive. - -"He killed my mother!" Mostyn muttered the words between his -clenched teeth. He had often felt that such was indeed the case, -though he had never allowed himself, even in his own thoughts, to -give expression to the belief. "I can see it all now. She never -complained--oh, no, she never complained; but it was his treatment of -her that sent her to her grave." - -Now that he was ready to admit this, little things, small events -which he had hardly noticed at the time, crowded into his brain. -Again and again he had found his mother weeping: he could remember it -even when he was quite a small boy, and she would never explain the -reason. He recalled how silent she was in her husband's presence, -how she had gradually lost her strength and beauty, how she had -quivered under the lash of his stern denunciations. John Clithero -had killed joy within her, then he had broken her spirit, till -finally she herself had drooped and died. Mostyn remembered the day -of her death; it was very soon after he had gone to Oxford. John -Clithero had shed no tear, and the day after the funeral he had gone -to business as usual. - -"He killed my mother," Mostyn repeated bitterly; "he crushed the life -out of her; Mr. Royce is right to hate him." - -Mostyn glanced at the clock upon his mantel-piece and realised that -it was after seven o'clock. At eight the family would meet for -dinner: well, they would not have his company, neither to-night nor -ever again. He decided that he would leave the house at once, taking -with him only a small hand-bag; later on he would send for the rest -of his belongings. Cicely would see that they were packed and -delivered to him. It was lucky, he reflected, that he was not quite -penniless--that he had, in fact, a sum that could not be much under a -hundred pounds lying to his credit at the bank, a sum that he had -saved out of his not ungenerous allowance; this would do to tide over -temporary difficulties, at any rate. - -With feverish hands he began to pack, hoping that he would be able to -leave before the dinner hour. He would have liked a word with -Cicely; but as for his brothers, he trusted not to meet them. He had -kept his temper under control in the presence of his father, but it -would be different with James and Charles; with them he might express -himself in a manner that he would afterwards repent. "The mean -sneaks," he muttered to himself; "and Charles, who is so fond of -talking about his honour! I am glad to have done with Charles." - -There was nothing that he regretted. He could not even feel that he -was deserting Cicely. Before very long she would be married to -Pierce Trelawny and then she, too, would be free. - -As he thought of her, the girl herself burst into his room. Her eyes -were tear-stained, and her fair hair was dishevelled. She stood -still, breathing hard and staring at Mostyn, who was now struggling -with the straps of his dressing-case. - -"I've told them what I think of them!" she panted, following the -train of her original thought. "It was Charles who gave you away, -Mostyn. He went straight up to father and told him that you were at -the Derby--the sneak!" - -"It didn't matter," Mostyn said, glancing over his shoulder; "the -result would have been just the same." - -"What are you doing, Mostyn?" Her eyes--they were gentle eyes of -china-blue--were round with horror. "Father is still in his study. -He hasn't come out, though the dressing-gong has sounded. I heard -him tramping about as I passed; was he furiously angry?" Then again, -as Mostyn had not yet replied to her first question, she asked, "What -are you doing?" - -"You see." He tugged viciously at a strap and then stood erect, -facing the girl. "I am going, Cicely. I am leaving the house -to-night. I am never coming back." With a low cry she threw herself -into her brother's arms, and her sobs broke out anew. It was a long -while before Mostyn could comfort her. At last he dragged her down -on to a sofa by his side, and explained to her that it was for the -best that he should go. Luckily the thought of money and how he -should work for himself in the future did not seem to occur to the -girl; her grief was solely for the loss of her brother, the only one -in the household with whom she was in sympathy. - -"It'll be all right, dear," he whispered. "You've got Pierce; and -when you are married-- - -She started from him, appalled by a new terror. "When we are -married!" she cried; then, her voice shaking with anxiety, "Will -Pierce and I ever be married, Mostyn? I--I never thought of it -before, but father knows that it was Pierce who took you to the -Derby. He won't forgive him either. He will break off the -engagement! and I--oh, what will become of me?" - -Her sobs broke anew, and this time she refused to be consoled. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -MOSTYN REALISES HIS POSITION. - -Poor Cicely was still in tears when Mostyn kissed and left her; but -he had been able to show her the necessity of avoiding any further -scene, and he had promised to see Pierce that very evening and tell -him all that had happened. "Pierce won't give you up, sis," he had -comforted her. "Whatever happens you may be quite sure of that." - -"But his father didn't like our engagement," she had sobbed. "I know -he only gave way because Pierce was so much in love. And now he -knows that my father objects-- - -"You don't know yet that father will object," Mostyn had interrupted. -"For my part, I should think it most unlikely. The Trelawnys are -wealthy people, and Pierce will come in for a great deal of money -some day. And father loves gold," he added bitterly. - -Mostyn had decided to spend that night at one of the big hotels in -Northumberland Avenue. On the next day he would look out for cheap -lodgings, and when he got settled Cicely could send him the rest of -his belongings. In the meanwhile, should there be a letter for him -the next morning--he was thinking of Anthony Royce's promise to -write--would Cicely forward it to him at the hotel? This having been -settled, Mostyn, carrying his bag, made his way down to the hall, -whistled for a cab, and drove away from the house without any -interference with his actions. A new life was about to dawn for him. - -He felt strange upon reaching the hotel and engaging his room. He -had very little acquaintance with hotels of any kind, save, perhaps, -when he had stayed at the seaside in the company of his relations. -John Clithero was quite suburban in his ideas of the annual holiday. -It was a new experience, then, for Mostyn to find himself alone and -independent in one of London's huge caravansaries, and it was not -altogether without its element of charm. - -He felt himself that evening more the man than he had ever done in -his life before; the whole world was before him, and he had to carve -out his own path through it. - -He dined alone, in the great restaurant, but he was too excited to -take any particular notice either of the food that was put before him -or of the smart crowd by which he was surrounded. He was anxious for -the time to pass so that he might wend his way to the Imperial Club, -which was in Pall Mall, and so not very far away, and there talk over -the whole matter with Pierce Trelawny. He fancied that Pierce might -have friends dining with him, and so he did not like to intrude -himself too early at the club. - -It was ten o'clock when he gave his name to the hall porter and asked -to see Mr. Trelawny. Pierce came to him immediately. His friends -had just taken their departure, for they were due at the Empire, -where the Derby crowd was sure to collect in force. All of which -Pierce explained before he had time to notice how pale and distressed -Mostyn appeared. - -"It's jolly lucky you found me, Mostyn," he said heartily, "for I -might have gone out in another ten minutes. But what on earth has -brought you round to the club at this time of the night? I never -thought you would have been allowed such a dissipation." - -"Take me somewhere where we can have a quiet talk," Mostyn said -huskily. "There has been trouble, Pierce, and I want to tell you all -about it." - -Pierce glanced quickly into his friend's face and realised that there -must indeed have been trouble. "Poor old chap!" he exclaimed. "I -was blind not to see that there was something wrong. Come along up -to the smoking-room; we can find a corner, and you shall tell me all -about it." - -As they were about to set their feet on the broad staircase they were -buttonholed by Captain Armitage, who was coming downstairs to the -hall. He laid a hand upon an arm of each of the young men--almost as -if to support himself--and began to talk hoarsely of the day's racing. - -"I dropped a pot," he muttered. "Infernal bad luck! Didn't even -back Hipponous. Lost my money in backing old Rory's horses so often -that I couldn't think his luck was going to turn. Damnable--what?" - -It was some moments before Pierce could shake him off; then, as the -two young men continued their way up the stairs, Pierce commented in -no unmeasured terms upon Captain Armitage as a member of the club. - -"The fellow makes himself a general nuisance," he grumbled. "He's -always hanging over the tape, and forces his conversation upon -everyone who happens to come near him. He belongs to the genus 'club -bore.' The waiters hate him, too, for he gives endless trouble and -never subscribes a cent to any of the servants' funds. Then he is -always half-screwed; it's lucky that he doesn't live in town, for if -he did he would spend the whole of his time at the club." - -"How did he get in?" asked Mostyn, for the sake of saying something. - -"Oh, he was quite a decent sort in his younger days," returned -Pierce, "and it's for the sake of old times that my uncle and other -good-natured people put up with him. Then they are sorry for his -daughter, Rada--she has quaint ways--but they suit her somehow." - -"Do they?" Mostyn spoke the words viciously, upon a tone of doubt: -from his experience of that afternoon he was not at all inclined to -attribute virtues to Rada. He felt, indeed, that he disliked her -intensely. - -They installed themselves in a recess of the smoking-room, and -Pierce, summoning the waiter, ordered a couple of brandy-and-sodas, -though it was only after considerable persuasion that Mostyn could be -induced to touch spirits. He was not a teetotaler, as his brothers -professed to be, but the habits of his home-life dominated him. It -was necessary for Pierce to point out that a stimulant was palpably -required, and that Mostyn must look upon it as a medicine. - -Pierce Trelawny was possessed of a rather dominant manner. He was -not built upon such a large scale as Mostyn, though he was well made -and athletic. He was equally at home plodding muddy fields with his -gun, riding to hounds, or as a young man about town. He had dark -hair, very carefully parted on the left side, thin, refined features, -and his dress was always immaculately correct in cut and style. He -enjoyed a liberal allowance from his father--a good old country -squire--and upon the death of the latter he would inherit a property -of very considerable importance. He had no profession, finding life -quite full enough without one. - -Mostyn made no further objection, but took a long draught from the -tall tumbler when it was set before him. The piece of ice that -floated on the liquid was cool against his lips, and he liked the -touch of it. - -And so, a little fresh colour creeping into his cheeks, he told his -story, and Pierce listened attentively, with only an occasional -interruption, an interruption that usually took the form of some -muttered comment by no means flattering to Mr. John Clithero. - -"He's an impossible man, your father," Pierce exclaimed when Mostyn -had concluded, "And the ghastly part of it is that he is quite -sincere, fully convinced that he is in the right and that all the -world who disagree with him are in the wrong. In a way he's just -like my old uncle with his Tory politics. Your father is stubborn -and pig-headed in a different and unpleasant direction; that's all -there is between them." - -"He killed my mother; he bullied her to death. My brothers are his -idea of rectitude. That's the kind of man my father is." Mostyn -spoke bitterly, as he felt. Never before in his life had he allowed -himself to breathe a word against his father, whatever his own -feelings may have been; but it was different now. - -He gulped down one or two mouthfuls of his brandy-and-soda, then -glanced up at his friend, who appeared lost in thought. "I'm not -only worrying about myself, Pierce," he said. "It was Cicely who -asked me to see you this evening. You see it is quite possible"--he -broke off, hardly knowing how to explain himself. - -"I see it is." Pierce drummed his fingers restlessly on the ornate -little table before him. "Your father knows I induced you to go to -the Derby, and he may forbid Cicely to see me again. I'm inclined to -think that that's what is going to happen." He frowned, staring at -his tumbler. "Of course, I shan't give her up," he went on, "but -things may pan out badly for us. My old dad hates your father, and -he was wild when he knew that I had fallen in love with a Clithero. -I don't know how he'll take it if there should be any opposition on -your father's side. He likes Cicely, so he may tell me to go ahead -and marry her, or he may say that it's a good thing for me the -engagement is broken off. Cicely is under age, too, and won't be -free to do as she likes for another year. It's a devil of a mess: -anyway, I shall see Mr. Clithero first thing to-morrow morning and -have it out with him," he added with decision; "and I rather think -the interview will be a stormy one." He pursed up his lips, thinking -that he was perhaps better able than Mostyn to hold his own with the -redoubtable John Clithero. - -"What about yourself, Mostyn?" he asked, after a pause. "It strikes -me I've been selfish, thinking of my own troubles, which may or may -not eventuate, while you've got a very real one to face. In some -ways it may be for the best, for you had a rotten time at home, and -the row was bound to come sooner or later. I don't know how you and -Cicely were ever born in the Clithero family," he added sapiently. -"You are not like the rest of them, and so I suppose you must have -got the blood of some more sporting ancestor in your veins. But what -do you mean to do?" he went on; "for I don't suppose you have any -idea of making up the quarrel?" - -Mostyn shook his head. "No," he replied. "I'm going to fight for -myself. Unfortunately I don't think I'm good for much. Of course, I -shall have to give up the Bar." - -"That's a pity," mused Pierce; "why should you?" - -"I've got no money of my own except a hundred in the bank. My father -won't give me another penny, so I must just put my shoulder to the -wheel." - -"A clerk on a pound a week, or something ridiculous of that sort," -said Pierce half derisively. "That won't do for you, Mostyn. But -you needn't worry your head about it; I'll get my father or my uncle -to find you something more suitable: I've got plenty of influential -friends." - -For a moment Mostyn made no answer, but once more lifted his tumbler -to his lips; when he spoke it was with decision. "No," he said. -"It's awfully good of you, Pierce, and I haven't the smallest doubt -that you could do as you say, but there is nothing that your father -or your uncle could give me--nothing well paid, at any rate--that I -should be fit for. It would be just the same as taking charity." - -Pierce was loud in his protest against such principles as these, but -he argued in vain. Mostyn had quite made up his mind; he had thought -it all over during his solitary dinner, and had decided upon his -course of action. He would accept help from no one. He would -undertake no work unless it was such as he conscientiously felt he -was able to perform. Of course, he had not forgotten Anthony Royce; -but if it was money that the latter proposed to offer him, money to -be expended upon racing, then, in the light of the present position, -Mostyn did not see his way to accept. What, after all, did his -foolish words spoken upon the coach matter? They were uttered in a -moment of heat, and no one would remember them. He had to think of -earning his living now: he had probably been to his first and last -race meeting. - -He had decided to try his luck with journalism; he had an aptitude -for writing, and he had a friend who was on the staff of an important -London paper. He would look up Arden Travers on the morrow and take -the journalist's advice as to the proper manner of setting to work. - -Pierce expressed his opinion that this was a grievous folly, but at -the same time he could not help admiring Mostyn's pluck. There was, -at any rate, no harm in trying. So nothing was said on the subject -of help to be provided from outside sources, and the two young men -parted at about half-past eleven, after making an appointment to meet -the following evening, when Mostyn would report how he had got on -with his journalist friend, and Pierce would relate the result of his -interview with John Clithero. - -As he was about to leave the club, Mostyn was accosted by Captain -Armitage, who was still hovering about the hall. - -"Are you going? That's a good thing, for I'm just off, too." The -captain's voice had grown still more husky, and he dragged his feet -across the stone floor with a shambling gait; nevertheless, he was -quite master of himself. - -"I'm glad I caught sight of you," he said with assumed geniality of -tone, "for I was going away by myself, and I hate being alone. We'll -walk together a bit, my young friend, and you shall tell me of your -ambitions to run race-horses and to win the Derby." He chuckled as -he spoke, with an irritating noise in the depth of his throat, and he -passed his arm under Mostyn's, leaning heavily upon it. - -"I'm not going far," Mostyn said shortly; "only to Northumberland -Avenue. Perhaps I'd better help you into a cab." - -The old man shook his head. "I want a little fresh air first," he -mumbled. "It does me good to walk part of the way home, and I love -the London streets at this time of night." He waved his free hand. -"It's life," he chuckled, "and it makes me think of the days when I -was a boy and full of life. It's too early to go home yet." - -"Where do you live?" asked Mostyn. - -"Bloomsbury," was the muttered answer. "Lodgings--a dirty hole; not -fit for a gentleman to live in--not fit for a girl like Rada. People -don't know where we stay when we are in London; I keep it dark." As -a matter of fact, everybody who knew Captain Armitage knew that his -lodgings were of the poorest; he made the same confession to -everybody, when, as was usually the case towards night, he exchanged -the braggart for a sort of maudling sentimentality. By day he was -the old soldier, a man who was as good as any in the land--his -swagger was proverbial; at night, or after an exaggerated bout of -drinking, his mood would change, and it was sympathy for which he -craved. There was nothing he enjoyed more at such times than to -dwell upon his bye-gone sins. - -"Walk with me a little way, at any rate," he urged. "There is -something I should like to tell you." - -So Mostyn complied, his good-nature compelling him; and Captain -Armitage, with palpable enjoyment, recounted his tale of woe. Of -course, it was false for the best part: the man was a failure through -drink, a fact that was plainly writ upon his mottled and congested -cheeks, which contrasted so forcibly with his fine white beard and -moustache. Certainly, he had sufficient means to indulge his passion -for the racecourse, though none but himself knew if it was upon this, -and this alone, that he spent his income. - -Mostyn felt constrained to remonstrate. "I didn't think you were in -such desperate straits, Captain Armitage," he said. "What about -Castor?" - -"Ah!" The old man drew himself up with a sudden jerk. "You remind -me: that's just what I wanted to talk about. Castor's my horse, a -two-year old; you wouldn't find a better if you searched the United -Kingdom from end to end. Old Rory's Pollux isn't in it with the -colt. A Derby winner, sir, if I know anything about racing. Well, I -can sell Castor if I think fit." He glanced meaningly at Mostyn as -he spoke. - -"Why would you sell Castor if you feel so sure about him?" queried -Mostyn, "There may be a fortune in the horse." - -"Perhaps, but I'm broke--broke to the world; things have been going -precious bad with me lately." The old man tapped Mostyn on the arm -with his bony knuckle. "Now, there's you," he continued, "a young -man of promise, a sportsman in embryo, keen as they make 'em. You -were saying to-day that you wanted to win a big race. Well, here's -your chance. You can have Castor for a song, a mere song. What do -you say to fifteen hundred pounds?" He leered insinuatingly. "It's -the chance of a lifetime." - -Mostyn laughed aloud. Fifteen hundred pounds! He who had but a -tithe of that sum in the world. However, Captain Armitage was hardly -to be blamed for the error into which he had fallen, for Mostyn had -certainly contrived to give a false impression that day. It was all -due to that absurd enthusiasm of his. - -"I shall never own race-horses," he said humbly. "I've got no money -for such things. I was only saying what I felt, not because I hoped -ever to do it really." - -Captain Armitage's hand dropped from Mostyn's arm. His jaw fell and -he muttered something in his beard. He was annoyed at having been -deceived; he had taken Mostyn for a young man of wealth and position, -or he would not have wasted his breath upon him. - -"Then it was bluff?" he said curtly. - -"Call it what you like." Mostyn was not prepared to argue the point. -"It's certainly true that I have no intention whatever of going in -for racing." - -Once again Captain Armitage muttered in his beard, and Mostyn was -quite assured that the remark was not complimentary to himself. They -walked on a few paces almost in silence, then suddenly the captain -turned his head, and muttering, "There's a friend of mine; so long!" -waved his hand airily and was hidden in the crowd that thronged the -street. Mostyn stood still, and after a moment or so, he saw the -unmistakable figure of his military friend disappearing, -unaccompanied, under the flaming portals of a public-house. - -Mostyn found himself standing alone close to the brilliantly-lit -entrance of a well-known music hall, through the doors of which a -crowd was pouring out, the entertainment being just concluded. He -had never been inside a music hall in his life, and, indeed, the -whole aspect of the streets at this time of night was new to him. -Tired as he was he watched the scene with interest. Here was Life, -as it was understood by most young men of his age. - -Over-dressed men and under-dressed women passed across the pavement -to the cabs, broughams, or motors which were summoned for them by the -liveried messengers. Mostyn, as he stood crowded against the -shuttered window of a shop, could see the bare shoulders, -insufficiently covered by rich opera cloaks, the glint of jewels, the -flushed faces; his nostrils received the vague impression of perfume; -his ears were pierced by shrill whistling, by the roar of traffic, by -the shouting and laughter, by all the discord--or was it harmony?--of -a London night. And ceaselessly the restless crowd of the street -surged to and fro: all manner of man and woman--the satisfied and the -hungry, the well-clad and the ragged, the joyful and the sad. - -It was a different aspect of life from that which he had studied -earlier in the day, and it was another emotion that stirred him as he -watched. For was it not well that a man should see all sides, that -he should judge for himself? The policy of repression, that which he -had known all his life long--John Clithero's policy--now, more than -ever, Mostyn saw the fallacy of it. The thing forbidden has a -fascination which blinds the eyes to its danger; wilful ignorance may -engender excess. Mostyn knew what it was to struggle with -temptation, but his sense of honour and duty had held him in check. -A weaker nature might easily have succumbed. As he watched, he -reflected upon the attraction which this scene had had for his -imagination; but he was not so sure that he felt the same about it -now. - -By the curb stood a woman clad in the Salvation Army dress. She -spoke to many, but was rudely repulsed. A stout young man, whose -face Mostyn had not seen, was assisting a smartly-dressed woman into -the hansom which had been summoned for him. The Salvation Army girl -approached him. She lifted her arms and extended them straight out -to the right and left, finally bringing them forward and pressing -them together as if she were striving against a great weight. In -that gesture she seemed to concentrate upon one man alone all the -veiled sin, the careless folly of the scene. - -"Man," she cried appealingly, "behold thy handiwork!" - -He repulsed her roughly, muttering an oath. He pushed her from him -into the gutter. Mostyn sprang forward, fearing that she would fall, -and at that moment, as he dragged her back to the pavement, he caught -a glimpse of the face of the young man who had acted so brutally. - -There could be no mistaking those pale, pasty cheeks, nor the thin -streaks of nondescript coloured hair hanging over the forehead--it -was Mostyn's brother Charles--Charles, whose idea of honour had -impelled him to play the part of tale-bearer and slanderer. - -Recognition was mutual. For one moment Charles stood staring at -Mostyn in petrified dismay, then, without a word, he plunged after -his companion into the hansom and was whirled away. - -As the cab drove off, Mostyn laughed aloud. He was not really -surprised. He had often had his suspicions of Charles in this -particular direction, though he had never voiced them. Charles -professed to be keenly interested in some East End Mission work, and -it was understood that he stayed occasionally with his friend who -conducted the Mission. Mostyn remembered that he had arranged to be -absent that particular evening. Well--it all fell in with Mostyn's -reflections. Charles was a weaker spirit, and he had yielded to -temptation--yielded dishonourably, hiding his weakness behind a lie. - -Mostyn was not vindictive by nature, but he was human enough to be -glad that Charles had recognised him. Charles--judging according to -his own nature--would certainly conclude that his brother would -retaliate upon him, and he would suffer accordingly. "Serve him -right, too," was Mostyn's reflection. "Charles won't enjoy being -found out--and by me. I hope his conscience will prick him--the -sneak!" - -"Paper, captain? last extry speshul?" A small newsboy, keen-eyed and -ragged, thrust his wares before Mostyn, who fumbled in his pocket and -produced a coin. He did not really want a paper, but he thought the -lad looked tired and hungry. He folded his purchase, thrust it away, -and forgot all about it till he was back at the hotel and in the -solitude of his own room. - -As he undressed he scanned the pages carelessly, his thoughts in -reality far away. But suddenly an item of intelligence, under the -stop-press news attracted his attention. He carried the paper under -the electric light, and, with a gasp of dismay and genuine regret, -perused the paragraph. - -"At a late hour to-night, intelligence has come to hand of a fatal -accident to the well-known American financier and explorer, Mr. -Anthony Royce. Particulars are still wanting, but Mr. Royce's death -is reported to be due to a motor-car mishap." - -The paper dropped from Mostyn's hand. Anthony Royce, in whose -company he had been that very afternoon, who had evinced so much -interest in him for the sake of his dead and gone mother--who had -instigated Mostyn's wild speech about winning a Derby--Anthony Royce -had met with a sudden and tragic death! - -Whatever scheme may have been in the financier's mind, whatever the -suggestion that he wished to propose to Mostyn, here was an end to it -all. Anthony Royce had carried his plan with him to the grave. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -MOSTYN IS PUT ON HIS METTLE. - -Some four or five days later, Mostyn found himself in the private -office of Mr. Gilbert Chester, head partner in the well-known firm of -Chester and Smithers, solicitors. He had received a mysterious -letter from the firm, requesting him to attend that day upon a matter -of the utmost importance to himself--a matter which would be -explained in full when he visited the office. - -The letter had necessarily reached him in a round-about way, for it -had originally been addressed to his father's house in Bryanston -Square, and had then been sent on to him to his lodgings--for he had -allowed no delay before settling himself in an unpretentious -apartment--by Cicely, to whom he had confided his address, and who -had seen to it that the rest of his personal belongings had been -packed and delivered up to him. Mostyn had at first imagined that -the solicitors may have had some communication to make to him on -behalf of his father, but this would have been strange, for the -latter had never employed the firm of Chester and Smithers. - -As he sat with other waiting clients in the outer office, Mostyn -reviewed the circumstances of the last few days. These had been -anything but satisfactory, and, indeed, he had already made a great -gap in that hundred pounds of his, for he had remembered certain -debts to tradesmen which it was incumbent on him to pay since he -wished to begin his new life with a clean sheet. - -He was very disappointed--he had found that his journalist friend was -not in London, having been sent to Scotland to report a big case at -Edinburgh; it might be a week before he returned. In the meanwhile -Mostyn, in his humble lodgings, was occupying himself by studying -journalism according to the rules laid down in certain books which he -had purchased, and which professed to give complete instruction in -the art. He varied this by visits to the British Museum, which was -close at hand, with some vague idea in his mind that this was a spot -he would have to frequent in the future, and that it was well to get -accustomed to it at once. - -As he had feared, matters had gone wrong, too, with Cicely and -Pierce. The latter had lost no time in visiting John Clithero. -There had been an angry scene between the two men, and Pierce had -been incontinently shown the door. Mr. Clithero had declared that he -would never give his consent to his daughter's marriage with such a -man as Pierce Trelawny while he had any say in the matter, and if -Cicely chose to disobey him--well, it would be at her own risk. - -Under these circumstances, Pierce had decided to go and see his -father, who lived at Randor Park, in Worcestershire. What the result -of this visit would be was an open question, and as yet Mostyn had -received no news, though his friend had been gone a couple of days. - -At last Mostyn was summoned to the presence of the great man. Mr. -Chester received him with peculiar warmth. - -"I am glad you have taken an early opportunity of seeing us, Mr. -Clithero," so Mr. Chester began. He always spoke of himself as "we" -or "us," though, indeed, Mr. Smithers, the other partner of the firm, -had long since retired. "We have some very important intelligence -for you." He cleared his throat with a little suggestive cough. -"Very important indeed." - -"Indeed?" said Mostyn interrogatively, seating himself in a chair -indicated to him by the solicitor. "I am very much in the dark, Mr. -Chester." - -"The matter concerns the testamentary disposition"--Mr. Chester was -very precise in speech--"of our late client, Mr. Anthony Royce." The -solicitor toyed with his gold-mounted glasses as he spoke, and stared -hard at his visitor. - -"Mr. Royce?" Mostyn repeated the name in amazement. "Why, I only -met Mr. Royce once," he stammered, "and that was on the day of his -death." - -"Nevertheless you have an interest--a very considerable interest -indeed--in Mr. Royce's will, and this will, or, rather, codicil, I -may inform you, appears to have been written hastily, although duly -signed and witnessed, upon the day that ended so tragically for our -client." The solicitor carefully polished his glasses with the -border of a silk pocket-handkerchief. - -"But this is extraordinary--inexplicable!" Mostyn could hardly -believe his ears. It was true that Anthony Royce appeared to have -taken a peculiar interest in him that Derby Day, and then, of course, -there was the story about his having once been in love with Mostyn's -mother, but that he should have gone straight home and made a new -will, almost as though he had anticipated the tragedy that was to -come--this was past understanding. - -"Our client was always a man who acted immediately upon any -resolution he may have taken," Mr. Chester explained. "He had -evidently made up his mind that afternoon, the day upon which he met -you, and, as usual, followed his impulse. Of course, poor man, he -could not have anticipated that he was to meet his death that night; -indeed, as we happen to know, all his preparations were made for a -second expedition into the heart of Africa. A fine fellow, Mr. -Clithero, a man of sterling merit, and no one regrets his loss more -than we do. It was a shocking accident: you know all the -particulars, of course?" - -Mostyn nodded: the papers had been very full of the disaster on the -day after it had happened. Anthony Royce, it appeared, had dined at -his London house after his return from the Derby, and then, at a -later hour of the evening, had left London in his motor-car for his -country residence, which was in the neighbourhood of Ware; it was -upon the road that the accident had happened. The night had been -very dark, and Royce, who was driving himself, had apparently, -through some accident to the machinery, lost control of the car upon -one of the steep hills in the neighbourhood. The motor had dashed -into a wall; Royce had been thrown out, receiving a terrible blow -upon the head, the result of which had been almost immediately fatal. - -"Let us come to business, Mr. Clithero," the solicitor resumed after -a brief pause. "I have here a copy of the codicil to Mr. Royce's -will--the codicil which affects yourself. You will observe that -certain other legacies--legacies mainly to public bodies--are -withdrawn in order to make room for yours. Mr. Royce was a bachelor, -and apparently he has no relatives in the world, any whom he, at any -rate, cared to benefit. This is perhaps lucky for you," Mr. Chester -added meaningly, "for, as you will see, the will is a peculiar one, -and might possibly have been contested." - -Mostyn was gazing at the paper before him, but at the moment he could -not make head nor tail of it--the words all seemed blurred and -jumbled together. "What does it mean?" he asked helplessly. - -"Mr. Royce bequeaths to you the sum of two and a half million -dollars," Chester explained slowly, tapping the table with his -knuckles as though to enforce the significance of his words. "But -there are certain conditions--certain conditions," he added, "and you -will, no doubt, find some difficulty in complying with them." - -"Conditions?" Mostyn stared helplessly at the solicitor. - -"Just so. The capital sum of which I have spoken is not to be handed -over to you for the space of a year, though you may enjoy the -interest upon it. Within this period it is incumbent upon you to win -any one of certain races, the names of which are formally enumerated. -Some dozen are mentioned, and they include the principal events of -the year, together with the five classic races. A sum of one hundred -thousand dollars, in addition to the interest upon the millions, is -to be placed at your immediate disposal, so that as far as money -goes, Mr. Clithero, you should be well equipped for your task. -Finally, Mr. Royce leaves to you absolutely his property in -Cambridgeshire known as Partinborough Grange." Mr. Chester ceased -drumming on the desk with his finger, and adjusted his pince-nez upon -his nose. "I trust you are already well conversant with sporting -matters, Mr. Clithero?" he added. - -"Good heavens, no!" Mostyn stared aghast, the corners of his lips -drawn down. "I'm as ignorant of sport as the babe unborn! I don't -even know what the classic events are. The whole thing is so -extraordinary that I don't know what to say about it; you have dazed -me--taken my breath away!" - -"Of course we cannot say what actuated our client to make such a -bequest," said the lawyer smoothly. "We have only to deal with -facts, and there is no doubt in the present case everything is in -order. It is a strange will, but it is not likely to be disputed. I -presume, Mr. Clithero, ignorant of sport though you may be, that you -will do your best to carry out Mr. Royce's wishes?" - -"I--I suppose I shall." Mostyn had taken up the paper from the desk -and was pretending to read it; this, however, was to hide his -embarrassment, and to give him time for reflection. It was beginning -to dawn upon him that the extraordinary legacy was a result of the -scene upon the coach when he, Mostyn, prompted by Royce, had -undertaken to win a Derby in five years' time. This eccentric friend -of his had wished to give him a sporting chance of doing so. But -that Royce should have executed a will that same day, containing, -moreover, such drastic stipulations, that was the inexplicable part -of the whole thing. - -Of course there was no question, however, as to what he must do. He -was put on his mettle; the means were given him of carrying out his -own challenge. A sense of exhilaration seized him. Suddenly, and -for no particular reason, Rada's derisive words flashed into his -mind: "You silly boy, you couldn't win a Derby if you lived to a -hundred." He had felt those words very deeply, they had stung and -wounded him--but now, in an extraordinary manner, the means had been -placed at his disposal, and Rada--not only Rada, but the whole -world--should see what he was made of. - -He pulled himself together and sat upright in his chair. "Mr. Royce -wanted to make a sportsman of me," he said, "I can see that. Well, I -shall do my best to realise his ambition." - -Mr. Chester smiled, the smile that he reserved for his most important -clients, to which number he hoped that Mostyn would be added. "Well, -I'm sure we wish you all success, Mr. Clithero," he said. He rose -and extended a white hand. "Come and see us again to-morrow--let me -see--yes--at 11.15, and we will discuss the matter at length. By the -way," he added, "since you will, no doubt, wish to visit your new -property shortly, we'll write to the gardener, whose name is Willis, -and who has the charge of it, to notify him that you may be expected -at any time." - -As Mostyn reached the door Mr. Chester, suddenly recollecting a duty -omitted, called him back. He searched for a moment among the papers -of his desk, and finally produced a sealed letter which he handed to -Mostyn. "This was brought to us to-day, Mr. Clithero," he explained. -"It was evidently written by Mr. Royce on the day of his death, and -should have been posted in the ordinary way. You see it is stamped -though it has not passed through the post. Mr. Royce may have -intended to drop it in the box himself and accidentally omitted to do -so. It appears to have been found in his study. At any rate, it is -addressed to you, and perhaps it may throw further light upon the -matter of your inheritance." With which Mr. Chester bowed Mostyn -from the room, and called to his head clerk that he was ready to see -the next client. - -Mostyn returned to his humble lodgings, the spirit of elation still -upon him. What an extraordinary twist had come into his life! There -was no fear of poverty--no need to depend upon the charity of his -friends--for a year, at least, he was rich and independent, and -ultimately--unless he failed to carry out what was imposed upon -him--the laugh would be with him and not with Rada. He wondered why -he should think so much about Rada, but of course it was because she -had insulted him, and he had conceived such an antipathy to the girl. - -Alone in his own room he opened Anthony Royce's letter, a letter -written, no doubt, when there was no thought in the writer's mind of -the fate that awaited him. - -"My dear Mostyn," so he read, "You have bound yourself to-day to win -a Derby in five years. I suggested ten--but that is immaterial. -Well, I have my own reasons for wishing to help you to do so. I am -going out of town to-night, but I shall return to-morrow; come and -see me the day after, and we will discuss ways and means. I have not -the smallest doubt that when your father learns of your escapade -to-day he will turn you out--cut you adrift--but if he does not do -so, my offer may still be acceptable to you. - -"You have the true instincts of the sportsman in you, I have seen -that for myself. Besides, you are your mother's son and I took to -you instinctively from the first. That is why I feel justified in -helping you to a sporting career. I don't know what we may decide -between ourselves, but since I am a man who takes no chances, I have -this evening added a codicil to my will, and what I shall propose to -you will be much upon the same lines." - -Here followed a recapitulation of the codicil. "You will see from -this," the letter continued, "that I have no intention of making -things too easy for you. It is a hard task for any man--even with -unlimited capital--to pull off one of these races in a year. But if -you succeed, well--you will earn a big fortune, and you may be able -to manage the Derby within the stipulated time. In any case it gives -you a sporting chance. - -"You will ask why I do this, and if it is only out of regard for -yourself and for your mother's memory. It is not only that, Mostyn. -I will confess that it is by way of revenge upon your father, whom I -have good cause for hating. You will understand this when I tell you -that he lied about me to the girl to whom I was engaged--your mother; -that he took advantage of my absence from England to spread a calumny -which he, better than anyone else, knew to be absolutely false. I -returned to England to find my good name injured and the woman I -loved the bride of the very man who had wrought me this wrong. I -could do nothing at the time, there were reasons which made me -helpless--I was driven from England, and became a naturalised -American. - -"But my hatred endured, and, through you, I may obtain the kind of -revenge that is dear to my heart--no very bitter revenge perhaps, but -one that appeals to my sense of humour. Narrow-minded Pharisee as is -your father, nothing will gall him more than that a son of his should -become known in the world of sport--and if you accept my offer you -will have to steep yourself in racing. However, we will talk this -over when we meet--it is not very likely that you will be bound by -the terms of a will drawn up by a man in rude health like myself. I -hope to live to see you win your Derby, my boy--and for many years -after that. But, as a safeguard to yourself, it is just as well that -the will is there." - -A few words of friendship followed, and the letter closed with -Anthony Royce's bold signature. Mostyn, having read it through -several times, threw himself back in his armchair and gave himself up -to reflection. - -He realised that the plot was aimed against his father. He -remembered how Royce's sides had shaken with silent laughter--the -American was just the sort of man to devise so subtle a revenge. Had -Royce been still alive--had John Clithero been kinder--Mostyn might -have hesitated before accepting, but now he had no compunction. - -"Anthony Royce loved my mother," he muttered to himself, "and she--my -father killed her by his cruelty. Yes, I'll steep myself in -racing--I'll do all that is desired of me. I'll keep my word to -Rada, too, and win the Derby. She won't scoff at me again. Ah, Miss -Rada, it will be my turn to laugh!" - -Suddenly he sprang to his feet and clapped his hands boyishly -together. "Castor!" he cried. "Captain Armitage's colt! The very -thing--entered for the Derby and all! Rada thinks a lot of the -horse--I heard her say so. So does Sir Roderick. And the captain -wants to sell--fifteen hundred pounds--what's fifteen hundred pounds -to me now?" - -He thought intently for a moment. "Jove, how it all works out!" he -cried. "The Armitages live at Partingborough, and now I'm a man of -property in that neighbourhood. I'll go and take possession of the -Grange--I'll go to-morrow. Then I'll make my first investment--I'll -buy Castor. Oh, Rada"--he laughed aloud in his glee--"I wonder what -you'll say if I win the Derby next year, and with the horse you think -so much of?" His face grew reflective. "I can't make up my mind -what I think of you really, Miss Rada Armitage," he said slowly, "I -ought to hate you, but I'm not sure--I'm not sure. Yet I feel this; -you have come into my life--you have influenced it--and we have not -done with each other yet. You've put me on my mettle, Rada, and it's -going to be a tussle between us." - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -MOSTYN IS SURPRISED. - -On the following day Mostyn travelled down to Partingborough, in -Cambridgeshire, by a late afternoon train. He had paid a visit to -Messrs. Chester and Smithers that morning, had fully discussed his -plans with Mr. Chester, had learnt that a large sum of money would be -placed to his credit that day, and that he could draw upon the firm -for more should he require it; then he had broached a subject which -had been worrying his mind during the night. - -"If the details of this extraordinary will are given to the public," -he said, "it's very plain that my task will be made more -difficult--for me. Dealers will ask what they like for their horses -because they will know that I simply must purchase. Every swindler -in England will be on my track. I shall be exploited right and left. -That's clear, I think. Now, Mr. Chester, is it essential that the -will shall be published before my year is up?" - -Mr. Chester gave the matter his very careful attention. It was -palpably a point of importance. When he spoke it was in his usual -oracular vein. - -"What you say is very reasonable, Mr. Clithero, and, upon -consideration, we think we can meet you in the matter. There will be -no difficulty in realising the estate of the late Mr. Royce, since it -is mainly in American gold bonds, payable to bearer; and, since the -ultimate trusts are of such a nature that they will not come into -force for a full year, we see no reason why probate should not be -delayed for the period you require. This must, of course, be subject -to the consent of the American agents, but we do not anticipate -difficulty with them." - -Mostyn felt intensely relieved, and said so. He had been dreading -the amount of public interest that would certainly have been aroused -in his undertaking. Now he would confide in Pierce and Cicely, but -in no one else. - -This point settled, Mostyn took his departure, after announcing his -intention of going down to Partinborough that day. He had an idea in -his head that Mr. Royce may have had some subtle object in mind in -bequeathing him this estate, situated, as it was, so close to the -home of the Armitages. Was it perhaps Castor of which he had been -thinking--or could he have desired to throw Mostyn and Rada together? -It was impossible to guess. All Mostyn knew of his property was that -it had been rarely occupied by the American, and that the house was -an old one, only partly furnished and very much out of repair. - -Mostyn studied racing literature as he travelled down in the train, -totally ignoring magazines, of which he was usually fond, and every -form of light reading. He had purchased the evening paper solely -with the object of absorbing the sporting intelligence. Ruff's Guide -and a stud book bulged prominently in the pocket of his blue serge -coat; he had promised himself that these works should be his -inseparable companions during the months to come. Oh, yes, he would -soon be well up in sporting technicalities; he laughed at himself now -as he remembered his blunders on Derby day. To have asked the age of -Hipponous--to have suggested that Hipponous should run in the -Oaks--and above all to have been taken in by that old joke about the -Waterloo Cup--his cheeks reddened even now as he thought of it. - -He wished he had been able to talk it all over with Pierce, but -Pierce was still away at his father's house in Worcestershire: Mostyn -had received a letter from him that afternoon, just as he was leaving -for the station. He had perused it hastily, and then thrust it into -his pocket. Now, having time at his disposition, he drew it out and -read it for the second time. - -"Poor Pierce," he muttered to himself, "poor old chap!" The letter -was not a cheerful one, as, perhaps, was to be expected. Old Mr. -Trelawny had not shown himself very amenable, this although he was -admittedly fond of Cicely for her own sake. He was a bluff old -gentleman of the old school, a thorough sportsman, and he cordially -despised John Clithero and John Clithero's doctrines. He listened -with considerable interest to the story of Mostyn's rebellion and the -refusal of the latter to submit to his father. "A brave lad!" he had -cried, "I like his spirit." He had repeated this several times, -somewhat to Pierce's annoyance, whose thoughts were concentrated upon -his own affairs. - -Finally, Pierce had obtained a concession. Since Cicely would not be -twenty-one till the expiration of another twelve months, Pierce was -to wait a year without seeing or writing to the girl, and if he was -of the same mind at the end of that time, Mr. Trelawny would offer no -further opposition. Pierce might marry his sweetheart, regardless of -John Clithero's disapproval. But the year's probation was to be a -_sine qua non_. - -"If you deceive me over that, my boy, there'll be a row," so the old -gentleman had asserted with a good deal of vigour and a quaint -raising of the eye-brows that was peculiar to him. "Jove, I'll cut -you off like Clithero has cut off Mostyn. Remember that. Write to -Cicely and tell her what I say--and then not another letter. That's -my decree, and you'd better stick to it." - -"I can't quite make the governor out," so Pierce wrote. "He spoke -very decidedly, but there was a queer look in his eyes, as though he -thought it was rather a joke to forbid me seeing the girl I love for -a whole year. I suppose he thinks I shall find someone else in the -meantime, but I won't, and that's very certain. We shall just have -to wait the year--and that will be hard enough for both of us." - -Mostyn, having read the letter with genuine sympathy, put it -carefully away, reflecting that it was strange that Pierce, like -himself, should have a year's probation before him. He had written -to his friend the night before, telling him, in confidence, something -of his accession to fortune and the conditions imposed thereon, -inviting him also to come to Partinborough Grange and talk the future -over as early as possible. - -Partinborough station reached, Mostyn descended from the train and -looked about for Samuel Willis and the conveyance which he had asked -by letter to be sent to meet him. But Samuel Willis was conspicuous -by his absence, nor was there a sign of any kind of carriage on the -long level road outside the little wayside station. Could it be -possible that his letter had miscarried, and that the gardener had -not been warned of his coming? - -Under these circumstances it was necessary for Mostyn to hire a cab, -and there was a delay of some twenty minutes--which Mostyn spent at -the Station Hotel--till the ramshackle old conveyance was brought -round. The little town of Partinborough, he learnt, lay about a mile -from the station, on the main road to Newmarket, and the Grange -occupied a rather isolated position another mile further on. - -It was nearly seven o'clock when, having passed through the little -town and then negotiated some extremely narrow and rutty lanes, the -cab came to a halt for a moment, while the driver descended from his -box to open a wooden gate that gave access to a drive through a small -wood. - -Mostyn concluded, and concluded rightly, that he was now upon his own -property. He gazed about him with curiosity. The road branched, and -the wood was denser than he had first thought. To the left there was -an incline, below which, and just visible through the thickly-massed -trees, Mostyn could discern the glimmer of a little stream. Upon the -other side the trees became gradually less dense, till between them -an open space, evidently an undulating lawn, could be distinguished. -Presently, the road made an abrupt turn in this direction, and the -house came in sight. - -Even at a cursory view it was evident that Partinborough Grange was -of considerable antiquity. It was a house of no great size, but it -had many gables and was pleasantly irregular in proportion. It was -ivy-covered, too, almost to the roof, and the windows were framed -with rose creepers. The porch before which the carriage drew up was -a veritable mass of white and red blooms. - -Mostyn's heart leapt delightedly within him. He had often pictured -to himself a house like this, and now his dreams were realised. -Partinborough Grange was his own--absolutely his own--and not only -the Grange, but this wide expanse of wood, this spreading lawn with -its carefully-tended flower-beds, and its pergola of roses; however -negligent Samuel Willis, the gardener, may have been in not attending -to instructions as to meeting the train, he was undoubtedly -accomplished at his craft. - -Mostyn alighted from the carriage, and almost as he did so, the door -was thrown open, and a tall man, curiously thin and cadaverous of -face, made his appearance. His manner was nervous, but he spoke -civilly, and was evidently anxious to appear at his best. - -"You are Mr. Clithero, sir?" he began, awkwardly. "I am Samuel -Willis." - -"You had my letter?" interrupted Mostyn, seeing that the man -hesitated as though at a loss for words. "I expected that you would -have sent a cart to meet me. I mentioned the time that I should -arrive." - -"Yes, sir." The man blurted out his explanation. "But unfortunately -I didn't get your letter till about half an hour ago. It was like -this, my boy, who's workin' for Colonel Marchmont at Mowbray Hall, a -couple of miles on the other side of Partinborough, met with a bad -accident last night, and me and my missus went out early this mornin' -to be with him. That's how it was, sir, that neither of us saw your -letter. It's a good thing I came back when I did. I meant to fetch -the cart and bring him home, for the doctor says he must lie up a -bit." - -"I see," said Mostyn, pleasantly, evincing no annoyance -whatever--this, evidently, very much to the gardener's relief. "I -found my own way up quite safely, you see. And I am very sorry to -hear about your son--I hope he isn't seriously hurt." - -Willis replied that he anticipated no danger. The boy was raw at his -work, and had carelessly damaged his foot with a scythe. The doctor -had patched him up, and he would be on the mend in a day or two; but -in the meantime, there was the necessity of driving over to Mowbray -Hall that evening to fetch both Willis's wife and his son back to the -cottage. - -"You can go as soon as you have shown me over the place," Mostyn -said, "I don't the least mind being left alone--that is, if I can get -something to eat, and if there is a bed ready for me to sleep on. -What time do you expect to return?" - -"Well, sir, the doctor's coming round again a little before nine, he -said. I expect we could be back at the cottage by ten. In the -meanwhile, I can arrange for your dinner, and make you quite -comfortable for the night." - -"That's all right, then," agreed Mostyn, "I shall manage quite well -for myself after you have gone." He turned and settled with the -driver of his cab, paying him liberally out of the fulness of his -heart, and then requested Samuel Willis to lead the way into the -house. His luggage--such as it was, for he had not thought well to -bring much with him, being uncertain as to the length of his -stay--had already been carried into the hall. - -"You know all about my having become the owner of the Grange?" Mostyn -said, as he followed the gardener. "I suppose Messrs. Chester and -Smithers gave you the full particulars." - -"Yes, sir," returned the man civilly, "but we did not expect that you -would be coming down so soon, or I should have been on the look out -for a letter." - -Mostyn made some complimentary remark about the garden, and then -added with a laugh, "I understood that the house was in a dilapidated -condition, a sort of ruin, in fact. I am pleasantly surprised to -find it so well kept." - -"It's better from the outside than within," returned Willis, "as you -will see for yourself, sir. My wife does her best, but there's more -work than one woman can manage. There are only some four or five -rooms furnished, and the others--well, they would need a lot of doin' -up before they could be occupied. As for the garden--well, I can -manage that, and I love my flowers." - -Mostyn was staring round the hall in which he stood. It was square -of shape, panelled in oak, and a gallery ran round two sides of it--a -gallery which was approached by an uncarpeted flight of stairs at the -far end. There was but little furniture, though everything that -Mostyn's eyes rested upon was quaint and old-fashioned. There were -high-backed chairs, elaborately carved, a great oaken coffer, and a -fine old grandfather's clock, the loud ticking of which sounded -pleasantly to the ear. The fireplace was large in proportion to the -size of the hall, and the hearth was broad; there were delightful -ingle nooks to either side of it. Against the opposite wall there -was an organ, a small affair, and evidently of modern make: its -pipes, which had been gilded and painted, were now discoloured, and -harmonised quaintly with the more antique decorations of the hall. -The floor was uncarpeted, but a few fine rugs, bear and tiger skins, -lay about. A large lamp was suspended in the centre, and Samuel -Willis now occupied himself with the lighting of this, for the dusk -was closing in. - -There were two other rooms upon the ground floor which had been -furnished, and these were just as quaint and old-fashioned, both in -design and equipment as the hall itself. The broad oaken beams that -traversed the ceilings indicated their age. Of the two, the -drawing-room presented the greater semblance of comfort and -modernity. It had pretty chintz furniture, comfortable arm-chairs, -and the pictures on the walls were bright water-colour landscapes. -The walls themselves, above the oaken panelling, were distempered in -white, and, unlike the other rooms, there was a good carpet covering -the whole floor. The windows gave direct access to the garden, and -as it stood partly open, the scent of roses was pleasantly wafted to -Mostyn's nostrils. There were a couple of shaded lamps, which the -gardener proceeded to light, and some of the tall vases that stood -upon the mantel-piece and in other parts of the room had been filled -with bunches of great red roses; Mostyn imagined that this had been a -kindly attention upon the part of Willis, and felt grateful to the -man. - -The dining-room was not altogether so cheerful an apartment. It was -panelled from floor to ceiling in oak, which in places was very -palpably rotting away. There were no pictures upon the wall, nor any -attempt at the lighter ornamentations which prevailed in the other -room; the ceiling was dingy and discoloured between the great beams -which traversed it, and the floor was carpetless--little holes -appearing here and there in the boards close against the -wainscotting--to Mostyn's mind, unpleasantly suggestive of rats. A -fine table occupied the centre of the room, and upon this a white -cloth had already been spread. - -"I've done my best about your dinner, sir," Willis said -deprecatingly, "but I'm afraid, since I had no notice of your coming, -that there is not much that I can do. I don't understand cookin'----" - -"Never mind," Mostyn laughed, "I can manage with anything you've got, -or can go down to the inn for the matter of that." - -Willis explained that he had brought up a cold chicken and some -accessories, also that Mr. Clithero would find that there were -bottles of good wine in the cellar; if he could do with these. - -Mostyn declared that he could do with these quite well. In fact, he -would need nothing else that night, and on the next day he could have -a long chat with Mrs. Willis and make all the necessary arrangements. - -After this the bedrooms were explored, to reach which it was -necessary to pass along the gallery that skirted the hall. Of these -only a couple were furnished, all the other rooms being in a state of -deplorable decay. - -"Mr. Royce was always going to furnish the house," Willis explained -apologetically, "but when he gave up racing he didn't seem to care to -come down any more. He took the Grange because it is near the -training stables, you know, sir. William Treves has a big place just -outside Partinborough." - -The beds were made in both rooms; and Willis explained that his wife -had seen to this when she heard that the Grange had passed into other -hands, and would probably be shortly occupied. "She has tidied up -the place as well as she could," he added. "I hope you'll be all -right and comfortable, sir." - -Mostyn glanced round the large airy room which he had selected, and -told himself that there was every prospect of his comfort. The room, -indeed, had not the appearance of having been long unoccupied, and -Mostyn noticed, somewhat to his surprise, that the attentive -Willis--or could it have been Mrs. Willis?--had even been thoughtful -enough to fill the vases here, as in the drawing-room, with rich and -fresh rose-blooms. - -"It's awfully nice to have these flowers," he commented; "I must -really congratulate you, Willis, upon having arranged things so -comfortably for me." - -A tinge of colour came into the gardener's sallow face, and he turned -away, as Mostyn thought, a little nervously. - -"You're very good, sir," was all he said. - -Mostyn enjoyed his dinner, impromptu meal though it was, nor did he -neglect an excellent bottle of claret that Willis produced from the -cellar. He felt quite contented and happy, nor had he any sensation -of loneliness when, a little later, he heard the dog-cart pass the -front door and knew that Willis had taken his departure. Mostyn had -told the gardener that there was no need either for him or for his -wife to return that night. Their cottage, he had learnt, lay within -the little park by which Partinborough Grange was surrounded, some -five or six minutes' walk from the house. - -After a while he amused himself by once more exploring all the rooms -on the ground floor, and then he mounted to his bedroom, determined -to unpack and put everything straight for the night. After that he -thought that it might be pleasant to have a stroll amid the roses of -the now moon-lit garden. - -He found, however, that it took longer to put things tidy than he had -anticipated, and, furthermore, he made one or two curious discoveries -in the room which he had determined to occupy. There was a large -hanging cupboard, and here, very much to his amusement, he came -across some articles of feminine apparel--a jacket, a cape, a straw -hat, and sundry other garments which he did not venture to examine -more closely. - -"I think it must be true," he smiled to himself, "that this room has -not really been so long unoccupied. No doubt Mrs. Willis finds it -more to her taste than the cottage. Or perhaps Mrs. Willis has a -daughter," he added, as he glanced critically at the dainty straw hat -and marked the juvenile cut of the jacket. "I really don't think -that Mrs. Willis can be the owner of these!" - -A little later he found a hairpin lying on the floor, and became -still more convinced that his room must have been occupied by some -member of the Willis household. The fact troubled him, however, not -at all, and he laughed to himself as he recalled the gardener's -nervousness of manner when he had drawn attention to the roses upon -the mantelpiece. "Whoever has made herself at home here," he told -himself, "must at any rate have a nice idea of comfort and the beauty -of things. I can make every allowance for people who like flowers." - -He was stooping over the portmanteau which he was engaged in -unpacking, and, at that moment, it seemed to him that he heard a -faint sound in the house, as of the opening and shutting of a door. -He raised himself to his knees and listened, but all was still. - -"I didn't think I was so imaginative," he muttered, after a moment. -"I suppose that comes of being alone in a half-furnished house--so -far away from everything, too." He glanced round the room and at the -open window, which looked out upon the lawn--a lawn intersected by -dark shadows and silver streaks of moonlight. "It never struck me -before, either," he went on, "that there might be a ghost at -Partinborough Grange; it's just the place for one." He laughed at -himself, not being in reality nervous, and, if anything, rather -enjoying the sense of his isolation. He decided that he would finish -his unpacking quickly, and then make his way to the garden. The -night was soft and balmy, and the air was fragrant with roses. It -would be better there than in the house. - -He bent himself once more to his task, throwing out his belongings to -either side of him in the careless way of a man. Then of a sudden, -he paused, a pair of shoes in one hand, a case of razors in the -other, and listened attentively. Another moment and he had dropped -shoes and razors and started to his feet. - -He did not know if he was afraid, though certainly at the first -moment a cold shiver had run down his spine, and there had been a -peculiar sensation as if perspiration were about to break out on his -brow. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and yet he was not -conscious of any actual fear. - -It was such a strange thing to be happening in an empty house, and, -at first, Mostyn had hardly believed his ears. But now there was no -doubt about it--someone was in the hall, and that someone was playing -the organ. - -The sound had at first come so softly that it had been really like a -breath of wind stirring in the pipes; Mostyn had thought that it must -be something of the sort, till he had remembered that there was -practically no wind that night. Yet it was possible that the sound -was due to some perfectly natural cause quite apart from human agency. - -He listened with hazy ideas of the kind in his mind, until it was -evident that something like a tune--a weird, dreamy tune, certainly, -was being developed, and that it was impossible to doubt any longer -that human fingers were touching the keys of the organ. - -But who could it be? Who could have broken in and disturbed his -privacy in so extraordinary a manner? - -Mostyn opened the door of his room and stole out upon the balcony, -moving as stealthily as he could, anxious to see without being seen. -He did not feel afraid--he was actuated by wonder and curiosity. - -The great lamp that hung from the ceiling above illuminated the hall. -Mostyn looked straight down over the banisters at the mysterious -player of the organ. - -It was a girl, and, as Mostyn recognised at once, there was nothing -ghostly or fantastic about her neat and well-fitting coat and skirt, -which were of some light material. Her head was averted, and she -seemed to be allowing her fingers to roam over the keys half -unconsciously, as though she were simply giving way to her fancy. -She was wearing a hat, a neat straw, not very dissimilar to the one -which Mostyn had found in his room, and it was evidently she whom he -had heard enter the house not very long before. - -Presently, as he stood there, silently staring at his strange -visitor, she turned her head, her attention attracted perhaps by the -light from the door which Mostyn had left open behind him. - -Their eyes met. The girl gave a sharp scream and started up, -overthrowing the carved music stool upon which she had been seated. -It was very clear that the apparition of a man in the gallery was as -unexpected to her as was her appearance in the hall to Mostyn. - -And, simultaneously with her cry, an exclamation of surprise and -wonder escaped Mostyn also. He could not help himself. - -"Rada, by all that's holy," he cried. And then, involuntarily, the -girl's name came again to his lips. "Rada!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -MOSTYN ENTERTAINS A GUEST. - -For a few moments they stood, the man in the gallery, the girl in the -hall, staring at each other in petrified astonishment. Neither the -one nor the other seemed capable of moving. - -It was the girl who recovered herself first and broke the silence. -She was evidently possessed of a fine spirit. "Who are you?" she -cried, her voice faltering a little, but raised sufficiently for him -to distinguish what she said. "Who are you, and how dare you come -here?" - -This was good, considering that it was Mostyn's own house, and the -incongruity of the question restored him to his normal power of -reflection. It was Rada who was the trespasser, not he; there was -evidently a misunderstanding upon both sides, a misunderstanding that -must be explained away; but it was very awkward that it should be -Rada Armitage of all persons in the world with whom he must -parley--Rada, his pet aversion. - -He drew close to the banisters, leaning over so as to make his voice -quite audible; even to himself it sounded hoarse and strained, -echoing through the emptiness of the house. "My name is Mostyn -Clithero," he said, "and I have every right to be here. We have met -before, Miss Armitage. But please wait, and I will come down to -you." He spoke the last words rather hurriedly, having some fear in -his mind that she might run away, make her escape by the front door -before he could reach her side. - -This, however, she did not seem at all disposed to do. Instead, she -broke out into a soft laugh--a laugh that was musical in tone, but -which grated upon Mostyn's ears, for it reminded him of her attitude -towards him upon Derby day. She had remembered him, then, as soon as -he had mentioned his name, and the recollection was one to arouse her -laughter. - -Mostyn set his teeth firmly, and descended the broken and rickety -staircase with all the dignity that he could muster. - -Rada was still standing beside the organ. She had picked up the -fallen music-stool and replaced it in position. She stood almost -directly under the over-hanging lamp, a lamp shaded in red, which -added its lustre to the rich colouring of her face. An unruly lock -of black hair hung over her forehead, and she was still smiling as -Mostyn approached her--smiling, her lips parted over a row of white, -even teeth. She had quite recovered her self-possession, whereas -Mostyn felt that he was trembling, partly with nervousness and partly -with indignation. - -"I thought you were Willis, the gardener, when I first saw you up -there in the gallery, and had got over my surprise. You made me -jump, you know, because I imagined I was all alone in the house." -She was quite taking command of the situation. "So you are Mr. -Mostyn Clithero," she went on. "I remember you quite well, though -what you are doing in Partinborough Grange at this time of night is a -mystery to me." - -She had waited till Mostyn had reached the bottom of the stairs -before speaking; now she seated herself upon the music-stool, leaning -an elbow upon a corner of the organ, staring Mostyn fully in the -face, with a great assumption of ease and self-confidence. - -"Perhaps you will explain yourself," she added, when he reached her -side. - -Mostyn felt himself in a ridiculous position. It was he who was -being called upon to give an explanation, and yet Rada Armitage was -so palpably the intruder, the one who should be summoned to explain. - -"I am here," he faltered, almost apologetically, "because the house -is mine, and I have to-day come down from London to take possession -of it." - -"Partinborough Grange yours?" Rada had ceased to smile, but she was -in no way disconcerted. "How can that be? The Grange belonged to -Mr. Royce. He was no relation of yours, was he?" - -"He left me the house by will," Mostyn explained; "that is the simple -truth. And now, Miss Armitage----" - -He was about to ask her to account for her presence, but she -interrupted him sharply. "And how dared you call me by my Christian -name just now? I don't think I have allowed you that privilege!" - -She did not speak as though she were annoyed. In spite of the -sharpness of her tone there was a curious laughing light in her eyes, -a half-mocking expression, which Mostyn could not understand, though -he felt that he was blushing scarlet, and was proportionately angry -with himself. - -Why should he have called her Rada? Why had he, ever since that day -upon the coach, thought of her by that name? The word had escaped -him involuntarily, and no doubt the girl had every right to be -indignant. - -"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I must apologise for that. It -was in the surprise of the moment----" - -"I see." Her eyes were still sparkling, and she was palpably -enjoying Mostyn's discomfiture as well as the whole situation. She -stretched out her hand, a daintily-fashioned hand with small, cool -fingers. "I'll forgive you, Mr. Clithero, and I suppose it is I who -must humbly ask your pardon for my intrusion. Awfully -unconventional, isn't it? But I'm not a lady burglar come after the -silver--there is none, by the way--or anything of that sort. I'm -quite a commonplace little person, really." - -Mostyn took the girl's hand in his and held it, perhaps a little -longer than he needed. "You're not commonplace," he faltered -awkwardly; "you're anything but that. You're more like a sprite or a -pixie." - -It was curious how she attracted him, and yet he was quite sure she -was mocking him all the time, laughing at him in her heart. He would -have liked to have refused her hand, to have spoken formally, to have -shown her that he was not the sort of man to be made mock of: and yet -all these impulses were put aside by that extraordinary fascination -which she had over him, and for which he could not account, the -fascination which had made him think of her so often during the last -week, and which had brought her Christian name to his lips in the -first moment of surprise. He was sure that he hated her--and yet he -had held her hand longer than he need have done, and perhaps with -firmer grip than was necessary. - -The worst of it was that Rada seemed to understand this, to have the -knowledge of her power: she would only laugh at him all the more. - -"Call me a mischievous imp," she retorted, brushing back the -recalcitrant curl, "if that's what you mean. Don't be shy, Mr. -Clithero. After that I'll explain why I'm here, and then go." - -Of course she must go. What else could be suggested? That is what -Mostyn thought, yet when he came to speak he gave expression to a -very different sentiment. "I--I'm sure I don't know why you are -here, Miss Armitage," he faltered; "but if you really meant to -stay--well, I can clear out, you know, for to-night anyway. I -believe there's an inn at Partinborough." - -She laughed musically. "Well, we'll see. But let's go into the -drawing-room to talk: it's more cosy there, and I can make myself -comfortable in my favourite chair. This hall's always full of -shadows, and we look like a pair of ghosts. Then there are the roses -in the drawing-room that I put there myself this morning." She spoke -as though she were the hostess, and with complete self-possession. -It was she who led the way and Mostyn who followed, still bewildered, -and at war with himself. - -So there was no doubt about it now; it was Rada who had filled those -vases with flowers, and who had evidently occupied the room which he -had selected for his own. But why on earth had Willis not given some -explanation? - -They entered the drawing-room, and Rada installed herself in one of -the comfortable chintz-covered arm chairs. She was seated with her -back to the unshuttered window, through which the moon, fully risen -by now, could be seen riding in a cloudless and star-sprinkled sky. -At that moment a rumble of carriage wheels made itself heard along -the drive. - -"What's that?" queried Rada, looking round sharply. - -"It's the Willis's driving back to their cottage," said Mostyn -shortly. "Their son met with an accident, and they had to bring him -home. Since you seem to be a regular visitor here, Miss Armitage, I -cannot understand why Willis said nothing to me about you." As he -spoke the dog-cart with its three occupants passed the window and -disappeared, the noise of wheels gradually dying away in the distance. - -"I am never here for more than one night at a time," explained Rada, -"and I suppose, since I slept here last night, that Mr. Willis did -not expect me to turn up again. I was about the garden all the -morning, and wondered what had become of him. I put the roses in the -vases, but I suppose he thought they were yesterday's." - -"I see." Mostyn slowly nodded his head. He had seated himself -facing the girl, and he could not withdraw his eyes from her face. -How bewitchingly elf-like she looked, as she sat there with the light -of the moon shining upon her--for the room was but dimly lit by the -shaded lamps at the far end. Yes, elf-like was the word, or perhaps -Rada was even more correct in describing herself as an imp. She had -taken off her flower-bedecked hat, and her black, glistening curls -framed a face that seemed to glow with life and mischief. - -"It's all very simple," she went on. "You see, Mr. Clithero, we -live, my father and I, not very far from here. It's only a couple of -miles across the fields, though a bit longer by road. Barton Mill is -the name of the place; it was once the old mill-house, but the mill's -been disused for years. We are not well off, and my father got the -house for next to nothing." - -Rada bit her lip, as though her explanation was not as easy as she -had thought, then continued: "My father's a queer-tempered man, and I -suppose I'm rather an impossible person myself at times. We are apt -to have little quarrels." She flushed slightly, a very unusual thing -with Rada, as she made the admission. "When there's any little -difference between us," she went on, "I run away, and instal myself -here for twenty-four hours or so; then, when I go home things are all -right again. I'm great friends with Mr. and Mrs. Willis, and they -are accustomed to have me about the place." - -Mostyn, from his own experience with Captain Armitage, could easily -appreciate the discomforts of the girl's home. Rada's father was a -drunkard--there was no other word for it--and it was easy to imagine -that there were times when he would become quite unbearable: it stood -to reason that the girl must sometimes have a hard time of it. - -"I'm quite a wild creature when I'm in the country, you see, Mr. -Clithero," Rada resumed; "not at all the same girl whom you saw in -London playing at gentility." She was speaking earnestly now, the -mockery of her manner put aside. This was an extraordinary -characteristic of Rada's, and one that Mostyn had already noticed. -She would pass quickly from mood to mood; she was just as capricious -as an April day. - -She sighed, and glanced round the room. "I have almost come to look -upon everything here as my own," she said, "and I shall feel having -to be shut out in the future." - -Mostyn leant forward, speaking eagerly, and again expressing himself -with words that he had no intention of saying. "I hope you will come -here as often as you like, Miss Armitage. I am glad to know that we -are such near neighbours. I shall probably live here, because I want -to be near the training stables. I am going in for racing," he added -impulsively. - -Once more she broke out into musical laughter, laughter which had the -ring of derision in it. Mostyn drew himself up stiffly; the -momentary spell which had fallen upon him was broken. - -"You are going in for racing, Mr. Clithero--you!" There was painful -emphasis upon the pronoun. "Do you mean to say that you've taken up -my challenge of the other day seriously? You are going to win the -Derby in five years' time? Forgive me laughing, but really, I'm only -a girl, but I'll back myself to win the Derby before you, and with -some hope of success." - -She spoke without measuring her words, and perhaps without the -intention of giving offence. "Are you going to enter a horse for the -Waterloo Cup too?" she queried; this amid peals of soft but impudent -laughter. - -Mostyn drew himself up, but the worst of it was, that in the presence -of this girl, he could make such a poor show of dignity. He could -not even restrain himself from that absurd habit of blushing. "I -made a fool of myself that day, I know," he said heatedly, "but it -isn't generous of you to recall it; it isn't as if you knew all the -circumstances--I----" He broke off suddenly, staring fixedly at the -window before him. - -Rada saw that her words had stung and wounded. She was not spiteful -at heart, though despite herself her tongue would run away with her. -She had no dislike for Mostyn; on the contrary, she had told herself -that day upon the coach that he was quite a good-looking boy, and -that she would have preferred his company to that of young -Caldershot, who was, after all, nothing but an empty-headed fop, -whose conversation was all about himself. Rada had quite decided in -her own mind that Mostyn was to be her cavalier that day, and she had -been more than a little piqued at his lack of attention, which -perhaps accounted for the snubbing he had received. - -"Don't be cross," she began, a little conscience-stricken. "I didn't -mean----" Suddenly she realised the fixity of his gaze upon the -window. "What are you staring at?" she asked, turning her head and -following the direction of his eyes. - -Mostyn sprang from his chair, and without answering her strode across -to the window, throwing it open, and gazing out into the night. He -had imagined, just as he was replying to Rada, that he had caught -sight of a face, the face of a man, staring in at the window--a face -flattened against the glass, appearing through it distorted, -malignant, and hideous. - -He had been so occupied with his own sense of wrong that it had been -a few moments before he had actually realised the face. The ivy and -creepers grew thick about the window, and as he stared vacantly he -had thought that what he saw was merely due to the peculiar form -taken by an overhanging spray of ivy. But, as he looked, the face -had taken shape; he had seen a pair of glistening eyes, a flattened -nose and an ugly, grinning mouth. It was then that he sprang up and -made his sudden dart to the window. - -But when he opened it and stepped out upon the soft grass there was -no one to be seen. He looked up and down the road; he took a few -steps in either direction, then told himself that he must have been -deceived: it was the ivy, after all, which had caused the delusion. -He stepped back into the drawing-room, closing the window after him -and attempting to put up the shutters, which had evidently not been -touched for years. - -"What was it?" asked Rada, who had risen and was standing by his side. - -He told her. "I thought I saw a face--the face of a man," he said. - -"What was he like?" Rada looked concerned, almost frightened. - -"I don't know; I can't describe him, for the face was contorted by -the glass. But it was all an absurd mistake of mine, and there -wasn't anything there really, but just the ivy." - -"I wonder." Rada's voice shook. "This is a lonely place." She -glanced at a little gold watch which she wore. "It is nearly ten -o'clock," she went on nervously, "and we have been sitting here -talking without making up our minds what we are going to do." - -"Let me go to the inn," Mostyn said; then he glanced doubtfully at -the girl, "though I don't think it's right that you should stay in a -lonely house like this all by yourself," he added. - -"I've done so many times before." The girl spoke with some defiance; -then her eyes turned nervously in the direction of the window, before -which Mostyn was vainly struggling to fix the shutters. "But I don't -know that I care to to-night," she added, the look of challenge -fading from her eyes with one of those rapid changes peculiar to her. -"I--I think I'm frightened." - -Indeed she looked frightened, more frightened, perhaps, than the -occasion demanded, and it was quite useless for Mostyn to try and -argue that what he had seen was in reality nothing more than a -cluster of ivy. - -"You must walk with me to the Willis's cottage," she said. "We know -that they have returned, and I shall be quite safe there." Her eyes -were timorous, and she trembled as she stood by his side. It was as -though she was conscious of some personal danger, of a threat, a -menace, to herself. All Mostyn's anger faded away. - -And so it was arranged. Rada was restless and nervous, unable to -talk on any topic whatever, quite incapable of listening to the -explanation which Mostyn had desired to make as to his taking up -racing. He would have liked to have told her, too, about Castor, and -the offer which had been made to him by Captain Armitage. It seemed -only fair to do so, for he had an idea that she might not approve of -the captain's decision to sell his horse. Not that Mostyn would -allow this to affect him, so he told himself. He had been challenged -by Rada to a sort of contest, a challenge repeated that day, and he -could use any tactics he chose, as long as they were straight and -above-board. - -But she gave him no opportunity to speak. She hurried him down the -broad drive, a road which was as yet strange to him, and which, like -the one that he had already traversed, skirted the lawn and then -plunged into the wood, leading direct to the Willis's cottage, which -was on the further boundary of the estate. - -As they stepped rapidly among the trees, she kept turning her head to -the right and the left. "What's that?" she would say, and then, -gripping his arm with real alarm, "I'm sure I heard footsteps -following us; there's someone hiding in the wood!" - -Perhaps Mostyn caught the infection of her nervousness; at any rate, -there were moments when he, too, heard, or imagined he heard, the -sound of the cracking of dry wood, as if the twigs were being broken -under a heavy heel. Once he halted and cried out, "Who's there?" but -there was no reply, and he comforted his trembling little companion -with the assurance that they were both in safety. - -It was he who was self-possessed now, for they stood in a different -relation to each other. He was the man, and Rada was just a -sensitive, frightened girl, who needed his support and protection. -That walk through the wood, small event as it was, was not without -its effect upon Mostyn's subsequent relations with Rada. - -Whether they were being followed or not, they reached the gardener's -cottage in safety, and presently the door was opened to them by Mrs. -Willis herself, a homely, comfortable woman with an engaging smile. - -Rada quickly explained her wish to stay at the cottage; then she -turned to Mostyn, and once more extended her hand. "Thank you for -bringing me," she murmured, "and if I said things to make you cross, -please forgive me." She was altogether charming at that moment, and -once more the touch of her fingers sent a thrill through Mostyn's -whole being. - -"Shall I see you to-morrow?" he asked hastily. - -"I don't know." She shrugged her shoulders. "I may go back home, I -may not; I always act on impulse." She was smiling now, secure in -the company of the gardener's wife. Presently, with a nod and a -smile, she disappeared into the cottage, and Mostyn was left to make -his way back to the Grange alone. - -This time there was no sound in the wood on either side of him, and -he was quite certain that his footsteps were not dogged. It must -have been imagination, after all. - -He thought of Rada as he walked. "What a witch she is," he muttered, -"and how she fascinates me! Do I hate her, I wonder, or----" He did -not finish the phrase, perhaps because he could not answer the -question. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -MOSTYN MAKES A PURCHASE. - -At an unreasonably early hour the next morning Mostyn, who had slept -peacefully enough in his new quarters, was aroused by the advent of -Willis, the gardener. The latter, as on the day before, seemed -concerned as to the reception which might be offered him. He rubbed -his lantern jaws nervously with a work-hardened forefinger while he -informed Mostyn that it was a fine day, and that he had brought up -the hot water for shaving. - -"How's the boy?" asked Mostyn, stretching himself and yawning, but -half awake. - -"Nicely, thank you, sir." Willis drew a breath of relief. No doubt -he had expected to be taken severely to task for not having revealed -to his master the fact of Rada Armitage's frequent occupation of the -Grange, a trespass which he had palpably condoned. "Miss Rada's been -very good to him, pore lad, and is goin' to send him some books to -read. Reads a treat, does our Jim." Willis spoke Miss Armitage's -name as though to give the necessary opening for explanations. And -these were immediately demanded by Mostyn, who woke up completely at -the mention of the girl's name. - -The explanation was as Rada had hinted. Her appearance had not been -looked for since she had slept at the Grange the night before, and -had never yet spent two consecutive nights there. Willis meant to -have taken the earliest opportunity of warning her that the Grange -was no longer unoccupied; he had thought it would not be necessary to -mention the matter to Mr. Clithero at all. As for the clothes in the -cupboard, he had quite forgotten all about them, and he had thought -that the roses in the vases had been left from overnight. He was -very penitent, as was his wife, and they both hoped the matter would -be overlooked. - -Mostyn took it all as a joke, much to the gardener's relief. It was -a perfect June morning: the sun shone in at the latticed window, -bearing the scent of roses and jasmine, and he felt that he had -awakened to a new day, a new life. How different this was to his -dingy London lodgings! How different, even, to the pretentious gloom -of his father's house! Yet everything about him was his own, -absolutely his own! The blood coursed quickly through his veins. -How could he be angry with Willis? - -Mostyn proceeded to put some questions as to Rada. The girl's name -came glibly to his lips. A desire had come upon him, born, no doubt, -partly of that strange fascination which she exerted and partly of -the revelation of his own masculine power which had followed her fear -of an indefinite danger, to master the little vixen, as he mentally -described her, to curb and break her in as an untrained filly--he was -already beginning to use sporting metaphor, even to himself. - -But Willis, who appeared very ready to discuss Rada, almost took -Mostyn's breath away by his first statement. - -"She's a hangel!" he said emphatically. - -"A what?" Mostyn had regarded Rada in anything but an angelic light. - -"A hangel," repeated the gardener, laying great stress on the -aspirate. He proceeded to sing Rada's praises with evident -enjoyment, and palpably from a sense of conviction. She was, it -appeared, although as poor as a church mouse, the Lady Bountiful to -all the cottage folk in the neighbourhood, by whom she was simply -adored. She would minister comforts to the sick and needy, often -little more than a cheerful word and the sunlight of her presence, -but no less welcome for all that. She would take charge of unruly -children and attend to the house-keeping in the unavoidable absence -of the mother; she would cook little dainties with her own hands; she -had an extraordinary capacity for lulling restless babies to sleep. -Willis declared stoutly that she had pulled his own little daughter -through a fever when the doctor had been despondent, and she was not -afraid of infection either, he added proudly. - -Here, indeed, was Rada in a new light! What a queer and complex -little creature she must be! She had treated him with such shocking -rudeness: he had thought her the very contrary to the "hangel" -described by Willis, but now it was evident that there were depths in -the girl's nature which had not yet been revealed to him. - -Having praised Rada to the full, Willis proceeded to abuse her -father, and that in no measured terms. He was a shiftless, idle -ne'er-do-well, who had lost all pretensions to being considered a -gentleman, though up in London, Willis had heard, he did play the -"high and mighty." He went about to race meetings when he could, and -had sometimes been away for days without leaving provision for his -daughter. He kept one or two race-horses at Treves's stables, but -had not brought off a win for some time past. When at home he -lounged about in his shirt-sleeves, read the sporting papers, and -drank himself silly. Rada, very naturally, found her own -distractions, and her chief joy was to career about the country upon -her black mare, Bess, a creature as wild as herself. - -"The captain don't take no stock of his girl," said Willis -emphatically, "an' he'll be sorry for it one of these days. I see -her about with young Jack Treves more'n enough, an' Jack ain't the -right sort for her, not by a long way." - -This was a revelation at which Mostyn felt vaguely annoyed. He took -an immediate dislike to Jack Treves. Yet why should he worry himself -over Rada's flirtations? - -Later that morning, while he ate a comfortable breakfast served up by -Mrs. Willis, he heard all the gardener's ideas recapitulated by the -good woman. She was just as emphatic on the subject of the captain -as her husband had been, nor did she swerve from her opinion when she -learnt that Mostyn was already acquainted with the Armitages, though -the knowledge of this fact reduced Willis to awkward silence and to -much rubbing of his jaw. - -Rada, it appeared, had left the cottage early that morning, probably, -Mrs. Willis opined, to return home, though it was quite possible she -might have gone to other friends. Captain Armitage had been on the -drink, and was best left alone. - -After an hour or so spent in surveying his new domain, and in -discussing plans for the future with the Willis's, Mostyn set out to -pay a visit at Barton Mill House. Captain Armitage might be in an -objectionably bibulous condition, but Mostyn was not afraid of -meeting him. - -Of course, he told himself that he wanted to discuss the matter of -Castor, and that there was really no time for delay; also that -Captain Armitage might very well introduce him to the trainer, -William Treves; all of which was good and plausible, but it was -neither of the horse Castor nor of the trainer that Mostyn thought, -as with some difficulty he found his way through the narrow lanes to -Mill House: his reflections were concentrated upon Rada. - -He found Captain Armitage at home, but to his great disappointment -Rada was not at the Mill House, nor had Captain Armitage the smallest -idea where she had gone to. He didn't seem to mind. He laughed -immoderately when he heard the story of the rencontre at the Grange -the night before, and conjectured that Rada must have gone off to -stay with some friends of hers, some folk who were accustomed to her -erratic ways, and who lived in the neighbourhood of Newmarket. She -had turned up at the Mill House, it appeared, quite early in the -morning, had selected some books from her little library, had had -Bess saddled, and had then ridden off. Captain Armitage had not seen -her because he was in bed. - -"We don't always hit it off together," he explained jerkily, "and -Rada's quite capable of taking care of herself. She is a little -devil, but I like her spirit." - -Mostyn found it difficult to reconcile the divergent views of his -gardener and of Captain Armitage as to Rada's character, but he did -not feel called upon to make any comment upon the subject. -Personally he was inclined to agree with the captain. - -Of course Captain Armitage was very surprised to receive a visit from -Mostyn, and he broke off into a volley of oaths when he learned that -the latter had profited under the will of Anthony Royce; this, though -Mostyn did not give the full particulars as to his strange bequest, -seeing no reason why he should do so, but merely mentioned that he -had inherited the Grange and a certain sum of money as well. - -"He never left me a penny, not a brass farthing," said Captain -Armitage solemnly, "yet I was one of his oldest friends, a -school-fellow and all the rest of it." This was a lie, and Mostyn -knew it to be a lie, but the matter was not worth discussing. - -The captain did not present an imposing figure that morning. Mostyn -found him lounging in a disreputably worn arm-chair, clad in a soiled -but brilliantly-flowered dressing-gown, smoking an old meerschaum -pipe, and perusing a sporting paper. His white hair was untidy, his -beard unkempt, and his slippers down at the heel. The little -sitting-room was dingy and uncared for; Rada had evidently abandoned -the hopeless task of tidying it. - -"I told you that I was a poor man, Mr. Clithero," Captain Armitage -said, waving a deprecating hand round the room, "and now you can see -for yourself." Suddenly his dull eyes brightened. "You say Royce -has left you some brass," he insinuated. "Have you thought better of -that offer I made you the other day?" - -"That's what I'm here for," explained Mostyn. "Are you still willing -to sell Castor, Captain Armitage?" - -"I should say I was, my boy." The old man sprang from his chair with -something of the nervous energy that Mostyn remembered he had -displayed when on the coach. "Fifteen hundred pounds! Why, it would -be the making of me just now." He spoke eagerly. "I know how I -could turn it into five, into ten thousand. There's Cardigan, a sure -thing for the Liverpool Cup, and Boscowen, a perfect snip at Sandown. -Give me fifteen hundred down, and I'll make a fortune. You shall -have the tips, too; I'll throw them into the bargain." - -So it came about that, without loss of time, Captain Armitage, -muttering and mumbling to himself, had shuffled out of the room, -leaving Mostyn to gaze out of the uncleaned window over a strip of -garden where the grass grew rank, and where weeds choked the few -hardy flowers that had endured. Whatever she might be elsewhere, -Rada evidently took no pride in her own home; Mostyn told himself -that the Mill House, practically little more than a tumble-down -cottage, was one of the most dreary spots he had ever visited. - -It was not long before the captain reappeared, a little more spruce -in his attire and ready to go out. It was, it appeared, not more -than half an hour's walk to the training stables, and there was no -reason why the bargain should not be clinched at once. - -This was all very well, but Mostyn did not feel capable of relying -upon his own judgment, nor did he trust Captain Armitage's word. -Fifteen hundred pounds was a large sum, and not to be merely thrown -away to put cash into the pocket of a drunkard. Would he do well to -purchase Castor? Certainly Sir Roderick had admitted the value of -the colt. That went for a good deal, but at the bottom of his heart -Mostyn knew that his desire to own the horse had something to do with -the struggle which he felt, in an indefinite sort of way, had -commenced between himself and Rada. "I'm a girl, but I'll back -myself to win a Derby before you!" she had cried contemptuously, and -the words had galled and stung him. She had great faith in Castor, -he knew that; well, it would be a fitting punishment upon her if, by -extraordinary luck, he contrived to carry off the race with that -particular horse. Mostyn was not spiteful by nature, but he was very -human. - -As they walked together, passing through the little town and then -emerging upon open country, Captain Armitage exerted his powers of -persuasion to the full, and he had a plausible tongue. Mostyn had an -eye for a horse, so the old man asserted, and he had recognised that -fact upon Derby day, or he would not have dreamed of making his -offer. He had taken a fancy to Mostyn from the first, especially -because the latter had taken his joking in good part. What he was -doing was purely out of personal consideration. - -"Look here, Clithero,"--he halted in that sudden and abrupt manner -peculiar to him, and seized the young man by the arm--"we don't want -a lot of palaver over this business. Treves will tell you that the -colt's all right, and his word's as good as gospel. Settle on the -nail and we'll cry quits at a thousand." - -They reached the training stables at last, a low narrow building, -lying a little back from the road, a building that formed three sides -of a square and was approached by a large gate. Beyond it, and -indeed, on either side of the road, was open level country. "A -capital pitch for exercising," as Captain Armitage put it, pointing -to a row of horses that were following one another in steady line -over the down. - -Castor had just returned from exercise, and they found him in his -stable where he had been groomed by one of the boys. William Treves -himself, an important personality, a man who had accumulated a -considerable fortune, but who had no pride about him, and who was not -ashamed of his humble origin, nor of the fact that he had never -acquired a mastery of the king's English, discoursed volubly on the -perfections of the colt. Apparently he already knew of Captain -Armitage's desire to find a purchaser. The man gave Mostyn the -impression of honesty. - -As for Castor, little as Mostyn knew of horses he was impressed by -the animal's appearance. Stripped of his clothes, he appeared a -black colt of such magnificent proportions as to give one the idea -that he was a three-year-old, instead of a nursery youngster. - -After much talking, in which Mostyn took small part, the bargain was -struck. In return for his cheque for a thousand pounds, Mostyn -became the proprietor of "as fine an 'oss as the eye of man could -look upon;" so William Treves put it. - -"'E 'as a terrific turn of speed," the trainer continued, "and there -isn't a three-year-old in this country that can 'old 'im at a mile at -weight for age. I borrowed a couple of Colonel Turner's youngsters -the other day to try 'im with, an' 'e left 'em fairly standing still, -and the Colonel's 'ed man went 'ome with a wonderful tale about 'em, -although 'e didn't know I'd put an extra five pound on Castor. Take -my advice, if you're set on winnin' next year's Derby, don't pull 'im -out too often this year. 'E's entered for the Eclipse at Sandown and -the National Produce Breeders' Stakes, and you might let 'im run -about four times just to give 'im a breather and get 'im used to -racecourse crowds. No man livin' can say to-day wot will win the -Derby next year, but if 'e trains on and puts on more bone, as I -expect 'e will, 'e must stand a grand chance." - -"You hear that? He'll win the Derby for you." Armitage smote his -young friend heartily on the back as he spoke. "Take my word for it." - -Mostyn was content with his purchase, proud of himself. There was -but one hitch, and that occurred later in the morning when Armitage -and Treves had moved away to inspect a new arrival at the stables, -leaving Mostyn standing alone, a little awkwardly, in the great -square yard. - -A young man approached him, a tall, broad-shouldered youth, -good-looking after a coarse and vulgar style. He was aggressively -horsey in his attire, and wore a cap set at the back of his head, -displaying sleek hair plastered down over his forehead. This, as -Mostyn was subsequently to learn, was Jack Treves, the son of the -trainer. He had a familiar way of speaking, and made use of slang -which jarred at once upon Mostyn's ears. - -He began by making a few casual remarks, then he jerked his head in -the direction of his father and of Captain Armitage. "I hear you've -bought Castor," he said. "A fine horse, sir." - -"Yes," replied Mostyn, "I've bought the colt." - -"Well, it may be all right." Jack Treves shook his head doubtfully. -"And of course the captain can do what he likes with his own--that -is, if it is his own--but I'll bet there'll be ructions, for Castor's -entered for the Derby in the name of Miss Armitage, and she's always -looked upon him as her particular property." He stooped and picked -up a wisp of straw, passing it between his fingers. - -"Her property?" faltered Mostyn. "I don't understand." - -Jack Treves nibbled at his straw. "The captain didn't tell you then? -I thought not. You see, when he went broke three years ago and -appeared in the forfeit list at Weatherby's, she sold all her -mother's jewels and paid his debts, and it was then that she -registered her colours-- - -"_Her_ colours!" gasped Mostyn. "Do you mean to tell me that -Rada--er, Miss Armitage--has registered racing colours?" - -"Lor lummy, yes!" was the reply, spoken with a certain malice. "A -bit young, of course, but she's not like other girls. She's not had -the best of luck, though, up to date, and that's why she's so keen on -seeing the lemon and lavender carried to victory at Epsom next year. -She simply dotes on Castor, and considers that the colt is hers in -return for that jewellery." - -Jack Treves threw his whittled straw away. "I guess," he said, -"there'll be the devil of a row." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -MOSTYN LEARNS HIS ERROR. - -Some seven or eight days after the sale of Castor, Captain Armitage -reclined at his ease in the dilapidated arm-chair which he -particularly affected. He had grown to like the untidiness and the -dirt of his dismal little sitting-room, and he would not have altered -his immediate surroundings for anything better, even had he been able -to do so. - -It was about nine o'clock at night. He had partaken of a meagre -supper--he never ate much at the best of times--served up in -haphazard fashion by the one wretched serving maid, a poor little -slut, who did the whole work of the house. The plates and dishes had -not been cleared away but were piled up anyhow on a clothless table -by his side, and within easy reach of his hand was a bottle of -champagne, three parts empty, with which he had been regaling -himself. Close by, too, was another bottle which contained brandy; -Captain Armitage was very fond of champagne, only he used to say that -he preferred it diluted--but he was accustomed to dilute it with -brandy instead of water. - -He had returned from London the day before, where he had had what he -would himself have called "a good time" upon the proceeds of Mostyn's -cheque for a thousand pounds. What had become of the money and how -much remained over was a secret only known to Captain Armitage; at -any rate, to judge by his complacent smile, the smile of a man who -was three parts intoxicated--he was not suffering from any pricking -of conscience for having disposed of property which did not actually -belong to him. He knew that there would be an unpleasant scene when -Rada returned, and there were times when he was a little afraid of -his petulant, self-willed daughter; but Captain Armitage was the kind -of man who lived in the present, and did not unnecessarily worry -himself about what might come to pass in the future. He had had his -thousand pounds, and that, after all, was the great point. - -He had been obliged to tell a lie or so, but that was a matter of -very minor importance. He had explained to Mostyn, who had come to -him hot with excitement, and dragging young Treves in his wake, to -demand an explanation, that it was by Rada's own wish and permission -that he had sold the horse. This was the same tale that he had spun -for the benefit of old Treves when the idea of raising money upon his -daughter's property had first occurred to him. Mostyn had been -silenced, but the ominous giggle which had followed him when he -turned away was by no means reassuring. He had felt a strange desire -to turn back and punch Jack Treves's head, all the more so since the -latter had spoken of Rada in a familiar manner, which he resented; -but he had restrained himself for the sake of his dignity. - -In the days which followed Mostyn had worried Rada's father not a -little. He had wanted the girl's address in order that he might -write to her, but this Captain Armitage had professed himself quite -unable to supply. The girl came and went as she chose, he didn't -worry his head about her. She was all right with her Newmarket -friends--but he couldn't even remember their name. Finally Captain -Armitage departed for London, and then Mostyn hung day after day -about Barton Mill House keeping watch for the girl's return. He felt -certain that her father had made no provision for her if she arrived -home before he did. Very often Mostyn called himself a fool for his -pains, for what, after all, was Rada to him? It was all very well to -tell himself that he wanted confirmation of her father's story about -Castor from her lips--that was true enough, but he wanted more -besides, and knew it. It was the magnetic thrill of his whole being -induced by her presence that he desired, and, though he could not -account for it, the feeling was there and had to be recognised. - -Captain Armitage, alone in his dingy sitting-room, had just drained -his glass, crossed his slippered feet, which were stretched out upon -a second chair, dropped a stump of his cigar--it had been a fine -cigar--one of a highly-priced box that he had brought back with him -from London--and closed his heavy lids, preparatory to slumber, when -Rada herself swept into the room. - -She came in like an avalanche, slamming the door behind her; for a -moment she stood contemptuously regarding the semi-intoxicated man, -then she unceremoniously aroused him to full consciousness of her -presence by jerking away the chair upon which his feet reclined. -Captain Armitage sat up grumbling and rubbing his heavy eyes. - -The girl stood before him, indignation plainly written on every -feature. "Father, you've sold Castor!" she cried. "I met Jack -Treves not half an hour ago, and he told me. It's the truth, I -suppose?" - -The man gazed at her vacantly. He had not expected to see his -daughter that night, and he was not prepared with any explanation. -Weakly he tried to turn the tables. "Where have you been?" he asked, -plaintively, "leaving your poor old father all alone like this----" -She deigned no reply. He knew where she had been. - -"It's the truth, I suppose?" she repeated. "I want to hear it from -your own lips." - -"Well, you see, my dear," he began, "we are very poor----" - -"Is it true?" Rada's lips were compressed together; she was drawing -long deep breaths. - -He went on mumbling. "We must live. I had debts. They had to be -paid somehow. A thousand pounds----" - -"So it is true. You've sold Castor for a thousand pounds! You -pretended that you were doing it with my permission. Oh father! oh -father!" - -Her mood changed with its usual lightning velocity. Her eyes were -brimming over with tears. Her father was the one man with whom she -always sought to hold her temper in sway. It was the instinct of a -lifetime. Pitiful, degrading object as he was, long ago as she had -given up all hope of effecting any reformation in him, of making him, -at least, clean, and manly, and wholesome, he was yet her father, and -she had lived with him ever since the death of her mother when she -was little more than a child. His deterioration had been gradual; -she had fought and struggled against it. She had taken upon herself -responsibilities unsuited to a girl of her age, but all her efforts -had been in vain. She despised the degraded old man, and that -because she saw him with no prejudiced eyes, she saw him for what he -was, but at the same time--he was her father. - -Regardless of his protests she began to clear away the bottles from -the table; she did so by force of habit, though she knew quite well -that as soon as her back was turned he would be after them again; -there had been times, however, when he had not allowed her to -exercise even this authority, when he had stormed in violent fashion, -when he had even struck her. On this occasion, however, he ventured -nothing more than a feeble protest, lolling back in his chair, -smiling foolishly. - -"A thousand pounds, my dear, think of it!" he muttered with a drunken -chuckle, "think of it! Needs must when the devil drives, you know, -and he's been driving at me, goading at me--oh, yes! an ugly devil, -and a lot of little imps besides. They wanted gold, and they've got -it. But we're going to make our fortunes," he went on, in maddening -sing-song monotone, "for there's enough left to back our luck at -Sandown and Ascot. That's what I had in mind, my dear. A quick -fortune--cash in hand in a week or so--not to wait a whole year for -the Derby, and then perhaps come down. There's Pollux, remember--old -Rory's Pollux." His head lolled over to one side, and he spoke -sleepily. "Besides, young Clithero will give you the colt back when -he knows the truth--it's ten to one on that. It'll be all right for -you, my dear, and you needn't worry about me." - -"Listen to me, father," said Rada, biting her lip to restrain an -outburst of anger and disgust at the meanness, the vileness of the -whole thing. Her father had calculated upon Mostyn Clithero giving -her back her horse when he found out how he had been defrauded. He -did not mind what might be thought of himself--he had had his -thousand pounds. She dashed her tears away, and stood up by the -cupboard before which she had been stooping, attempting to hide the -bottles away. "Listen to me," she went on, "try to understand me if -you can. Castor was my horse. You gave him to me when he was -foaled. Now he has a big chance for the Derby. He was entered in my -name. I was his registered proprietor--he was to be ridden in my -colours. All my dreams were of Castor; I would sit building castles -in the air by the hour together. It brought colour into my life and -made me glad to live. You don't know what it has been to me; you -cannot understand how I delighted in watching Castor at his gallops, -whispering to myself, 'The horse is mine--mine--and in two years' -time--in eighteen months' time--in fifteen months' time--I shall -watch my horse winning the big race!'--that's how I used to go on; I -counted the months, the days, even the hours. All my pride was -centred in Castor; and you have sold him--sold him for a thousand -pounds!" - -Her voice quivered and shook. She was speaking with an intensity of -feeling unusual to her. "I watched the little colt as he grew up," -she went on, and her tone was low and plaintive now. "I fed him with -my own hand, just as I feed Bess, and he got to know and to love me. -I gloried over him as I saw him growing handsomer and -stronger--growing into what I had expected he would. I knew he would -win the Derby for me, every instinct I have told me so. And do you -know, father"--she drew a little closer to the old man's chair, but -she was not looking at him, she was absorbed in the train of her own -thoughts--"it was not only pride that possessed me; Castor was going -to make our fortune for us--I felt that, too--and the money would be -mine, mine to do with as I wished. I used to sit and dream of the -way I should spend that money. We were going to leave this ugly -cottage, and have everything nice and pretty about us; we were going -to start a new life altogether." Poor Rada! It was such a vain, -such a hopeless dream! for, as far as her father was concerned at -least, any new life was out of the question. - -She caught her breath, and went on speaking, more to herself than to -him, quite heedless of the fact that she received no answer. "Oh! it -would have been my money--mine, just as Castor was my horse. If you -knew, if you could guess, how I have built upon this! But now there -is to be no more dreaming for me: the gold has been fairy gold, it -has slipped through my fingers like so many dead leaves. You have -taken Castor from me--you have sold him for a thousand pounds! And -now what is to be done?" - -She choked down her sobs, clenched her little fists with -characteristic energy, vaguely conscious of the futility of her -emotional outburst, and her natural energy of disposition once more -coming to the fore, she took a quick step towards her father. "What -is to be done?" she repeated. - -There was no reply, save for a dull, unintelligent grunt. Captain -Armitage's head was lolling over the side of his chair, his eyes were -closed, his mouth open. He was asleep--he had been asleep all the -while. - -Rada's first impulse was to take him by the shoulders and to shake -him violently, for, small as she was, she knew that she possessed -more strength than he. Her nerves were tingling with suppressed -passion, her cheeks were suffused with colour. She touched him on -the shoulder; he stirred and muttered, then his hand went out -instinctively towards the table as though in search of his glass. - -Rada drew back, nauseated. She knew that it was hopeless to protest -with such a man as her father--she must leave him to himself. It was -for her alone to act. - -A few moments later, having loosened his collar and settled him as -comfortably as she could in his chair, a horrible task to which she -was no stranger, she stole quietly out of the room. - -That same evening, Pierce Trelawny, who had been detained by his -father at Randor Park, arrived to stay the night with Mostyn at -Partinborough Grange. It was too late to visit the paddocks that -night, and, unfortunately, Pierce had to hurry on to London by an -early train the next day; but it was arranged that Willis should take -charge of his bag, so that a hurried inspection of Mostyn's purchase -might be made the first thing in the morning, after which Pierce -could walk or drive to the station. - -The two young men had discussed the situation as they sat together in -the drawing-room of the Grange after dinner. Pierce had learnt the -full facts by letter, and, acting upon Mostyn's instructions, he had -kept the secret to himself. He agreed with Mostyn that this was the -wisest plan, though he asked, and obtained, permission to reveal -everything to his uncle, Sir Roderick, who, he opined, might be of -considerable assistance--if he chose--to Mostyn in a difficult task. - -For himself, he was prepared to lend all the help in his power, and -place his experience--such as it was--quite at Mostyn's disposition. -It would distract his thoughts from Cicely, and from the hardship of -his own year's probation. "The governor hasn't yielded an inch," he -explained mournfully. "And, of course, I've written everything to -Cicely. I can't make the old man out. He threatens me with all -sorts of horrible consequences if I disobey him, and all the time -there's a sort of twinkle in his eye, as if he found it amusing to -bully me. But about yourself? You've got to buck up, you know. -There's no time to be lost." - -Mostyn acquiesced. "I've made a start by purchasing Castor," he -said. "That has cost me a thousand pounds." - -"Cheap, too, if the horse is all you tell me," commented the other. -"Well, you may run Castor for the Guineas and for the Derby, but you -mustn't neglect your other chances. What about the Royal Hunt Cup? -That is the race which falls first upon your list, I believe." - -Mostyn quite agreed that the Royal Hunt Cup must not be overlooked, -although there only remained a fortnight or three weeks in which to -purchase a horse, already entered, for this race. "I suppose I ought -to have set about it before," he said rather limply, "but the fact -is, you see, I've been busy getting this house in order, and----" he -broke off suddenly. He did not like to tell Pierce the actual reason -for which, having purchased Castor, he had remained on at -Partinborough. The fact was that he had been on the look-out every -day for Rada, that he could not tear himself away. - -Suddenly he blurted out the truth. "The girl fascinates me," he -said, in conclusion. "I can't understand how, or why. I don't quite -know if I hate or love her, but I'm quite sure that I want to master -her, to punish her somehow for having mocked me. She has challenged -me twice, and I want to be even with her. That's how we stand." He -blushed as he spoke, staring viciously at the toe of his shoe. - -Pierce gave a low whistle. "You're in love, Mostyn," he said, "and -you've taken the complaint rather badly and in a particularly -dangerous style. I shall have to get you out of this, and as quickly -as possible: you may think of Rada as much as you like next year, or -when you've won your title to the legacy, but till then you must be -on probation, old chap, just as I am." - -Mostyn agreed that his friend was right, and so it was decided -between them that he should join Pierce in London in two or three -days' time, and that they should devote their energies to finding -suitable horses to run for the Hunt Cup as well as the Goodwood Cup a -little later on. As a necessary preliminary step, Pierce had already -entered Mostyn for the National Sporting Club and also for the Albert -and the Victoria, and the sooner he put in an appearance there, to -make the acquaintance of the leading sporting men, the better. - -The two friends reached the paddocks very early the next morning, and -Pierce looked Castor over before the colt was led out of his stable -to exercise. He scrutinised the animal with the eye of a man of -experience, and commented upon this and that point in a manner which -filled Mostyn with envy. - -"Plenty of mettle and spirit," he said, dodging quickly out of the -way, as Castor, conscious no doubt of a strange hand upon his hock, -pranced to and fro in his stall. "In fine condition, too. I can see -nothing to carp at; if half of old William Treves's tales are true, I -should say you've got a good thing, Mostyn, and cheap at the price -you paid." - -Pierce's good opinion was in no way altered when he had seen the -horse at exercise. He stood with his friend by the stable wall -facing the great bare track of country, over which Treves's horses -followed each other in straight, unbroken line. William Treves -himself was absent that day at Newmarket, but presently the two young -men were joined by his son Jack, who strolled leisurely up, and began -to talk in his usual familiar fashion. - -Mostyn had seen a good deal of Jack Treves during the past week, and -nearer acquaintance had not improved his liking. He was quite sure -that the trainer's son had conceived a jealousy of him, imagining, no -doubt, that he and Rada were old friends. It was very evident by the -way he spoke of her that Jack considered he had a claim upon Rada's -affections, a claim which Mostyn, jealous in his turn, resented. - -Having seen Castor put through his paces, Pierce was loud in his -praise of Mostyn's purchase, repeating all he had said in the stable, -and even appealing to Jack Treves to confirm his opinion. The latter -stood lounging against a post, smoking a cigarette, his thick lips -parted in an irritating smile. Mostyn could not help thinking that -there was something at the back of his brain to which he did not wish -to give expression. He had laughed outright once or twice without -apparent cause, and there was a palpable sneer on his lips as he -turned to Mostyn and informed him that Miss Armitage had returned the -day before, and would no doubt put in an appearance that morning. - -Jack had divined correctly. It was as Castor, bestridden by a stable -lad, was drawn up almost opposite to them, and while the attention of -all three was bestowed upon the horse, that Mostyn heard a voice -close behind him, calling him by name, and turned to find himself -face to face with Rada. She had ridden up upon Bess, had dismounted, -leaving the mare to wander at will, and had approached unnoticed. - -"Mr. Clithero." - -Mostyn felt that peculiar thrill pass through him which was always -called forth by her presence. As on a former occasion her Christian -name had nearly escaped his lips, but this time he was able to check -himself. There was a glitter in the girl's eyes, and her lips were -drawn together in a manner which appeared to him rather ominous. It -was the first time he had seen her dressed in a riding habit, and he -thought how well it became her; at the same time he was glad that she -had not abandoned her straw hat, the red poppies of which toned in so -well with the dark tresses beneath them. She was looking deliriously -pretty, but Mostyn wondered in what mood she would display herself. -He had been forced to accept Captain Armitage's assurances about -Castor, but, all the same, he had not been wholly satisfied. He -remembered her challenge as to winning a Derby, "with some chance of -success, too," she had said. Could she have been thinking of Castor? - -But of course the colt was his by every right. He turned, smiling -brightly, and extended his hand to the girl. She responded, but her -fingers lay cold and passive in his grasp. "We've been watching -Castor at exercise, Miss Armitage," he said with enthusiasm. "He's a -beauty, and I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for letting me -have him. I've brought my friend Mr. Trelawny to see him: you know -Mr. Trelawny, I think." - -Pierce, with every intention of saying the right thing, piled fuel to -the fire as he, in his turn, shook hands with Rada. "I was awfully -surprised," he said, "to learn that Mostyn had been lucky enough to -buy such a horse as Castor. I was saying only just now, that if one -could judge of a Derby winner from a two-year-old----" - -The frown on Rada's forehead deepened, her lips puckered up, and her -uncontrollable tongue had its way. "I should hate Castor to win the -Derby for Mr. Clithero or for anyone else. Castor is my horse, and -he was sold without my consent." She turned passionately upon -Mostyn, her black eyes shining. "It was mean and cowardly of you!" -she said. "You did it because of what I said to you the other day. -You did it to spite me! Can't you fight fair? Aren't there enough -horses in the world for you to buy, without robbing me of the one -ambition, the one hope of my life?" - -Jack Treves chuckled. The scene had begun just as he had -anticipated. But Rada turned and fixed her eyes indignantly upon -him, and he took the hint and moved away. - -"Miss Armitage, I had no idea," stammered Mostyn; "believe me--I---- - -"May I have a few words with you alone?" she interrupted. - -Mostyn glanced helplessly at his friend. Pierce awkwardly pulled out -his watch. "It's time I was off," he said hurriedly. "It will take -me a few minutes to get to the station, and really there's only just -time. We shall meet on Friday as arranged." - -He took hasty leave of his friend and of Rada. "Jove, how her eyes -glistened!" he muttered to himself as he hurried away. "Can Mostyn -really have fallen in love with the girl? Why, she's--she's a -regular little spit-fire; what's more, she'll have the horse back, if -I'm not mistaken." He gave one of his characteristic whistles. -"Poor Mostyn!" he added sympathetically. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -MOSTYN MAKES REPARATION. - -"Take the horse away!" commanded Rada, petulantly, as soon as Pierce -had disappeared. The stable-lad mounted upon Castor had been staring -at the little group, undecided if he was still wanted, or if the -inspection of the horse was concluded. - -"Take him away!" she repeated, flashing angry eyes upon the boy. "I -can't bear to look at him now," she added under her breath. - -The lad touched the reins and Castor trotted quickly away. Mostyn -and Rada were left in the comparative solitude of the great open -space, though every now and again the sound of shouting came to them -from the distance, and through the mist of the morning they could -discern the shadowy forms of men and horses. - -Rada sank down upon a bench, clasping her little hands about her -knees; Mostyn stood by her side, waiting till she should have -composed herself. He anticipated a painful scene: his worst fears -had been realised, and even from the few words she had spoken, he -understood what Rada must think of him. Of course, he was really -guiltless of offence; he had been deceived, swindled, but even though -Rada recognised this, she would still think that, actuated by his -desire to checkmate her, he had taken the opportunity of gaining an -unfair advantage. - -He was sorry for Rada, and he was sorry for himself as well, for he -saw at once where lay his duty. He knew even now what he would have -to do. There must be no imputation of unfairness against him: he was -bound, by the force of circumstances, to a contest with the girl, but -he would fight in the open. She had issued the challenge with all -the advantage on her side, but he felt no animosity against her for -this: she had spoken just as she, a wayward, impulsive girl, might -have been expected to speak. His only trouble was that she should -have grounds for thinking ill of him. - -He no longer felt bashful and shy in her presence. So much, at -least, was in his favour. He seemed to know and understand her -better for having seen the squalor and wretchedness of her home, for -having realised the surroundings in which she lived. Then the -Willis's had spoken so freely of her, almost every day, encouraged, -of course, by Mostyn; he had felt at last that he had known the girl -for years, and that her vagaries were no new thing to him. - -Perhaps he knew her better than she knew herself; so Mostyn, who had -had no experience of women, told himself in his conceit. It was all -very well for her to pretend to be hard and wayward and selfish: he -knew better. He knew what reason the villagers had for loving her; -why, only yesterday old Mrs. Oldham at the post office had told him -how Rada had given up days and days to nurse a little child who was -ill with bronchitis, and who might have died of it had it not been -for Rada's care of her. "If I could make her see herself and show -herself to me in her true character," Mostyn muttered, "then we might -be--well, friends, as well as rivals. If I could!" - -Unfortunately, as well as having no knowledge of women, Mostyn was -not possessed of much tact. And so, as usual, he blundered -egregiously when he attempted to put his ideas into practice. - -"I think, Mr. Clithero," Rada began, "that you have taken a very mean -way of revenging yourself upon me. I thought you would have had more -manly feelings----" - -He knew what she meant, but he was in such a hurry to defend himself -that he failed to find the words he wanted. - -"I was rude to you the other night," Rada went on relentlessly. "I -was rude to you at the Derby. I couldn't help myself. I always say -just what comes into my head." - -Mostyn was quite aware of this, but he did not mean to say so; he -wanted to be very gentle with Rada, quite unconscious that gentleness -was the one thing which in her present temper she would resent. "I -don't think you meant to hurt," he said softly. - -"I did," she retorted viciously. "You made such an idiot of -yourself, nobody could have helped being rude and laughing at you. -And yet it's you--a man who hasn't the smallest idea of racing, a man -who'd buy a donkey and enter it for the Derby if he acted upon his -own intelligence--it's you who, because you know I laid store by my -horse, and because you've got some insane idea in your head of -besting me on the racecourse--it's you who've played me this trick!" -She spoke violently without the smallest attempt to weigh her words. -"You knew Castor was mine," she went on. "You must have guessed it -from what I said the other night. You knew, too, that my father is -not to be depended upon. And if you had not known all that, Jack -Treves told you the truth immediately after you had made the -purchase; there was plenty of time to repair the error, if you had -not been spiteful against me." - -Mostyn flushed, stung by the injustice, but he was quite determined -that he would not lose his temper. "You misjudge me," he said, "you -misjudge me utterly. The whole thing has been a mistake, and if I -have been to blame in any way I am quite willing to repair the -error." He had no wish to enter into any long explanation, or to -cast the blame where he knew it was merited, upon Rada's father. He -realised, and very probably correctly, that this would only appear a -further meanness in the girl's eyes. "The position is very simple," -he went on, "and there is no need for you to scold me, Miss Armitage; -please consider that Castor is yours." - -It was Rada's turn to flush, for this was just what her father had -hinted at, what he had no doubt relied upon. To accept Castor as a -gift at Mostyn's hands was the very last thing which, in her present -mood, she was prepared to do. - -She drew herself up stiffly. "You are very kind," she said, "but do -you think that we are beggars, my father and I, that you dare to make -such a suggestion? What are you to me that I should accept a present -from you?" - -"Since there has been a mistake," Mostyn said, vainly striving to -reconcile the girl's inconsistency in his mind, "I want to repair it -the best way I can." - -"Quite forgetting that there is such a thing as pride," Rada -interrupted, "and that I have my fair share of it. No, Mr. Clithero, -you have bought Castor, and Castor is yours, unless I am able to -purchase him back. That is what I wish to see you about. I love my -horse," she went on, sucking in her lips as though she found it -difficult to make her explanation, "and there are many reasons why -Castor should be particularly dear to me. So, since, as you say, the -whole thing has been a mistake, you will let me buy Castor back. My -father is bound to let me have the money," she added mendaciously, -"when he knows how badly I want my horse." - -Mostyn knew that this was not true, that Captain Armitage was the -last man in the world to disgorge any money that he had become -possessed of by any means whatsoever. He knew, too, that there were -certainly no funds upon which Rada could draw, and he wondered -vaguely how she proposed to raise a thousand pounds to repay him. - -"I'd far sooner give you the horse," he said, "for, after all, I -should be returning you your own. I want to have a shot for the next -Derby, Miss Armitage," he went on, "and it isn't only because I have -a sort of a bet with you. That's a motive with me, certainly, but it -isn't all. However, I can find another horse, and really the money -is of no importance to me. We are rivals, you and I, both eager to -win, but both wanting to play the game fairly. You shall have Castor -and I will look out for myself; is that a bargain?" - -"Not unless I can pay you the thousand pounds," she retorted. "But -if I can succeed in doing that, and without undue delay, Castor shall -be mine again, and our rivalry can begin as soon as ever you like." -She laughed derisively. "If it does, I don't think there'll be much -chance for you, Mr. Clithero." - -He shrugged his shoulders, seeing no use in argument. He did not -want to accept Rada's thousand pounds, but he had sense to see that -it was quite useless, as matters stood, to suggest any other solution -of the difficulty. - -"It shall be just as you please, Miss Armitage," he said with an -effort to appear cheerful. "I'm going to do my best to win the -Derby, but it won't be with Castor." - -She rose from the bench upon which she had been sitting and once more -extended her cold hand. "Thank you," she said. "There's nothing -more to be settled for the present between us. You shall have your -money and I my horse. That's decided." - -Mostyn held her hand in his for a moment, despite her effort to -withdraw it. He looked straight into her eyes. "I wonder," he said, -"why we always meet to quarrel? I should like to be on better terms -with you, Miss Armitage. We can be rivals and yet good friends, -can't we? I am sorry that this misunderstanding should have -happened, but really I'm not to blame." - -He released the girl's hand, which fell to her side. Rada tapped the -ground petulantly with her foot. Truth to tell, she was a little -ashamed of herself. Mostyn may not have been so much to blame, after -all; her father had a plausible tongue. But she was in a mood when -to admit herself in the wrong would have been an impossibility for -her. Had Mostyn been wise he would have left her alone; reflection -and repentance would have come in due course. As it was, she hated -him at that moment even for his offer to return Castor to her. How -dared he even think that she would consent to such a thing? - -She had no dislike for Mostyn really. In her heart she admired his -clean, well-cut features, his stalwart, manly frame. More than once -she had mentally compared him with other men of her acquaintance, -especially with Jack Treves, and the comparison had been all in -Mostyn's favour. Perhaps it was because she did not understand her -own feelings, because she was too contradictory to yield to them, -that she had always instinctively adopted an aggressive attitude when -with Mostyn. In a sense it was against herself that she was -fighting. How could she, who had been brought up almost from -babyhood to the love of sport, have any esteem for such a greenhorn -as this otherwise good-looking and good-tempered boy? It was that -feeling that had impelled her to make fun of him, and which had -caused her to resent bitterly what she had regarded as an attempt on -his part to get the better of her. - -A peculiar pugnacity had been aroused within her; perhaps the wild -and wayward little creature was moved, without knowing it, by the -natural strife between sex and sex. She felt instinctively the -desire of the man to subdue and win her, and all her senses were -accordingly in revolt. - -"I suppose you think I'm a little minx, a sort of wild cat," she -said, not looking at him but at the ground. "It's been my fault that -we've quarrelled, and now you are reproaching me for it." - -"You're hard to understand, Ra--Miss Armitage," Mostyn said; "there's -no doubt whatever about that, but I don't think you are a bit the -minx you are inclined to make yourself out to be." He was staring at -her, admiring her neat figure with its delicate curves, her nicely -poised head, and her black curls that, in the sunlight, had a tint of -glowing blue in them; he could not see her eyes, but he imagined that -they must glint with the same blue. He wanted her to look up, but -she still stared at the little well-shod foot with which she was -still tapping the ground. - -"Yes I am, I'm bad-tempered; I say cruel things; I hurt people! But -why shouldn't I?" she added defiantly, "when there's no one I care -for and no one who cares for me? I've been brought up like that. I -am hard by nature, and I don't see why I should pretend to be any -other than I am." - -Mostyn laughed a little. "I know better," he said. "You've got a -heart of gold, Miss Armitage, though out of sheer perversity you -don't like people to know it. But I've found you out, you see, -though we've only known each other such a little while and quarrelled -every time we've met." - -"What do you mean?" she cried. She was looking up now, and her eyes -had the blue glint in them, just as he had expected. They flashed -upon him, but he could not tell if it were with anger or surprise. - -"You say that nobody loves you, and you love nobody. If so, why are -you always doing little acts of kindness to people? Why do all the -villagers adore you?" - -She stamped her foot. "I've got to do something," she cried. "I -must occupy myself somehow. But that isn't the real me, the real -Rada Armitage; you are quite mistaken if you think so. I'm as you've -seen me, as I appear up in London--hard, cruel, a flirt, everything -that's bad. Ask my father; he always calls me a little devil; I've -been called a little devil ever since I can remember." - -"I know others who call you an angel, with an aspirate tacked on," -Mostyn laughed. He was rather enjoying himself; it was amusing -telling the girl her good qualities and hearing them so violently -contradicted. It was Rada's nature to contradict, that was very -evident, but it was quite delicious to make her protest that she was -all that was bad when the truth was so palpably otherwise. - -"What is one to believe, what you say yourself or what others say of -you? I know what I think," he went on, more than half-conscious that -he was goading the girl into a fresh passion. But how could she -resent it when he was really praising her? "The real Rada Armitage -is kind-hearted and good----" - -"No she isn't, she's--oh, I don't know what you are making me say! -You are perfectly horrid! What's the good of telling a girl she's an -angel when she feels quite the reverse? That's just like a man." -Rada turned away, angrily biting her lip. "I don't want to hear any -more of my virtues, thank you, Mr. Clithero; I'd like you better if -you told me I was a beast. And now please excuse me, for I'm going -to the stables to see Jack Treves. He doesn't tell me I'm an angel," -she added viciously. - -Mostyn made no reply; and after waiting a moment as though she -expected him to speak, Rada turned on her heel and went in search of -her mare, which was quietly grazing close at hand. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -MOSTYN TELLS HIS LOVE. - -"A misunderstanding! Yes, of course, absolutely a misunderstanding." -Captain Armitage waved his arm airily, as he expressed this opinion. -"I'm sorry that it should have happened, but Rada quite gave me to -believe----" - -"Yes, of course. I understand you would not have sold Castor to me -unless you had concluded that the sale had your daughter's approval." -Mostyn spoke quite seriously, though he knew well enough that the old -man's excuses were not genuine; but he had no desire to hurl -reproaches at the wretched drunkard, who, after all, was Rada's -father. Mostyn told himself, with something of that good humour -under adverse circumstances which was typical of him, that he ought -to have known better at the beginning; that he ought to have judged -his man, and that it was his own fault he had been taken in. - -The loss of a thousand pounds seemed of little importance to him just -then, for he had resources behind him which, to his inexperience, -seemed inexhaustible. He was at heart an optimist, and did not -doubt, in spite of this reverse, that he would successfully carry out -the terms of Anthony Royce's will. Taken altogether, there were a -dozen races open to him, and surely, with so much money at his -disposition, he would be able to find a winner for one of them. - -So it was that in the afternoon of that day, Mostyn had come to -Captain Armitage's house, had explained that there had evidently been -a mistake over the sale of Castor, and announced his desire to return -the horse to Rada, its legitimate proprietor. Since Rada had refused -to accept the horse, Mostyn had seen this as the only possible way -open to him. He did not for a minute believe that the girl would be -able to raise the thousand pounds, and he thought that when her -temper subsided and she understood what had been done she would -accept the situation without further protest. Mostyn rather plumed -himself upon his diplomacy. - -Since the sun was shining brightly, Captain Armitage was lolling in a -deck-chair which he had placed very near the centre of the wretched -little lawn of Barton Mill House, and he had been indulging in a nap -when Mostyn had interrupted him. He had not been in the best of -humours at first, evidently preparing to meet an attack, anticipating -a demand for explanations; but Mostyn had quickly undeceived him, and -stated clearly what he intended to do, after which, as well he might, -Captain Armitage had subsided into smiles and amiability. - -"You want me to take Castor back?" he said. "Very well, very well." -There was certainly no pride about Captain Armitage. "A mistake has -been made "--he rubbed his bony hands together--"and nobody is to -blame; neither you nor Rada, nor I--certainly not I--and you want to -put matters straight." - -"You are certainly the one who has profited by the mistake," Mostyn -could not help saying. - -"Ah, my dear young friend"--Armitage puffed at his cigar, another -extracted from the expensive box which he had brought back from -London, and which had been purchased with Mostyn's money--"somebody -must usually profit, and somebody lose by every mistake. In this -case it's you who lose, and of course I'm sorry for you. I'd -willingly stand my share of the loss; I'd refund--yes, I'd willingly -refund you five hundred pounds--only, unfortunately, the money is -already involved--that is, I've made the bets I spoke to you about. -But look here"--he started up from his chair in the jerky manner -peculiar to him--"you shall have the tips, and that's just like -putting money into your pocket. You won't regret having had a deal -with Captain Armitage. You back Cardigan for the Royal Hunt Cup; put -your bottom dollar on it----" - -"Thank you," said Mostyn coldly. "I don't bet; I never intend to -bet." - -"Don't bet!" Armitage sank back into his chair again. "Well, I'm -blessed! Here's a young man who professes to be going in for racing, -and who says he doesn't bet! Never heard of such a thing, never!" -Armitage stared at Mostyn as though he were looking upon some new and -remarkable species of animal. - -"I suppose you don't understand racing for the mere sake of sport," -Mostyn said. "Anyway, that's how it appeals to me, and though I've -lost Castor I propose to look out for another horse for next year's -Derby. Your daughter and I are going to be rivals, Captain Armitage." - -The captain was on the alert again. "Another horse--next year's -Derby," he mused. "Well, let me see; perhaps I can be of use to you -after all." He was evidently turning over in his mind the means of -effecting another deal, probably as advantageous to himself as the -last. - -But Mostyn wanted no further business dealings with Captain Armitage. -"Thank you," he said, "but I need no assistance in this matter. But -now as to Castor," he went on; "I want it to be clearly -understood--and you must write me a letter to this effect, Captain -Armitage--that the horse is to be, and to remain, your daughter's -property: Castor is to run in the Derby in her name, and of course, -should he win, the money that accrues is to be her property -absolutely. Upon that understanding, and that understanding only, I -give up possession." - -"Surely, surely. It shall be just as you wish. I always meant Rada -to have Castor, and I don't grudge her the money a bit," said -Armitage magnanimously. "I'll write you the letter--yes, certainly. -And now you'll have a drink, won't you, since this matter has been so -amicably settled? And perhaps I can find you one of these cigars; I -can recommend them." To give away a cigar was an extravagance of -which Captain Armitage was rarely guilty, but one, upon this -occasion, he felt he could afford. - -Mostyn, however, refused both the drink and the cigar. He took his -leave of Captain Armitage, feeling after this, his second dealing -with that gentleman, that Rada was more than ever to be excused for -her waywardness and inconsistency. - -"With such a father," he muttered to himself, as he swung along the -leafy lanes, "brought up by him in the atmosphere of that wretched -cottage, with no other example before her--good heavens! It's a -wonder she's turned out as well as she has. And beautiful, too--for -she is a beauty, there's no denying that; she must inherit her looks -from her mother. What a pity--what a terrible pity for the -girl--that her mother died when she was little more than a baby. -It's just that that she has missed out of her life, the influence of -a woman, the tender hand of a mother." - -So Mostyn mused. The only thing that troubled him really was what -Pierce would say about his quixotic conduct. Pierce did not seem as -sanguine as Mostyn upon the subject of the purchase of a colt -suitable to run in the Derby; Pierce, too, had expressed decided -approval of Castor, and would probably call his friend a fool for -having given him up. And Mostyn hated above all things appearing a -fool, either in his own eyes or those of anyone else; which perhaps -accounted for the great desire that was in him to set himself right -with Rada. - -Upon his way home, taking a short cut, he had to pass by a footway -that led through some meadows and then skirted a little wood, a path -that was very popular with the young people of the neighbourhood, and -which had been given the name of "Lovers' Walk." So it happened that -he was not at all astonished when, upon a bench conveniently placed -in the shadow of a large elm, a bench set back a little from the -footpath and partially concealed by the leafy branches of the tree, -he found a man and a girl seated in the usual close proximity to each -other. It was not, however, till he came abreast with them that he -recognised Jack Treves and Rada. - -The girl, hearing footsteps, had started to her feet. Jack remained -seated, his long legs stretched out, and his lips curved derisively -as Mostyn approached. Rada had flushed red and she took a step -forward, as though she would have spoken to Mostyn; then she changed -her mind and merely recognised his presence by a little perfunctory -nod of her head. As for Mostyn himself, after a quick glance at -Jack, he altogether ignored that individual. He raised his hat to -Rada and passed on his way. - -He walked on without turning his head, unconscious of the scowl that -followed him and the muttered oath. But all the beauty had gone out -of the day for him, all the colour from the trees and hedges. He saw -a stretch of ugly, undulating, monotonous country, devoid of charm. -It depressed him. - -"What possesses her to care for a fellow like that?" he muttered -under his breath. "A low-down cad, and one whom it isn't safe for -her to be about with? She must know his reputation, and how -everyone's talking about him and Daisy Simpson even now. Why, I saw -him with Daisy only this morning outside the stables! I saw him kiss -her." Mostyn waved his stick and viciously decapitated an -unoffending dandelion as he spoke. - -It was quite true that Jack Treves enjoyed, literally enjoyed, for he -was proud of it, a bad reputation in Partinborough. Those gossips, -the Willis's, were responsible for Mostyn's knowledge. Mrs. Willis -hated to see her dearly beloved Rada in Jack's company, and spoke her -mind fluently on the subject. "Let him stick to his Daisy Simpson," -she said. "Daisy's good enough for the likes of him. They're birds -of a feather. But Miss Rada is a lady, though her father's an old -drunkard, and there's the width of the world between her and that -scapegrace Jack." - -Daisy Simpson, as Mostyn soon found out, was the daughter of a -well-to-do farmer in the neighbourhood. She was, according to Mrs. -Willis, a "fast lot," notorious for her flirtations. - -Mostyn would not have enjoyed the conversation between Rada and Jack -that followed his passing, had he overheard it. Yet, in a way, his -mind might have been set at rest as to the existing relationship -between the pair, and he would certainly have appreciated Rada's -immediate championship of his name, when Jack applied an insulting -epithet to it. - -"None of that, please, Jack," said the girl firmly, lifting a small -but authoritative hand. "I may laugh at Mr. Clithero, if I choose, -to his face, but I won't hear him abused behind his back. That's not -cricket. Remember that he offered to give me back Castor for -nothing, though he's got some wild sort of notion in his head that he -must win a Derby before I do. He was tricked into buying -Castor--there's no blinking at that fact--and he has taken his -disappointment like a man." - -"Look here," said Jack, in a voice that would have been harsh had he -been speaking to anyone but Rada, "I want to know how I stand. If I -help you as you want me to----" - -"As you have promised," she interrupted. - -"Well, as I have promised. What I mean is, I can't have any -sentimental foolery between you and any other chap, see? You say you -won't marry me till this time next year in any case----" - -"Can I think of marrying," asked Rada, indignantly, "or give any -promise even, when all my thoughts are fixed on Castor and the Derby? -You've just got to wait, Jack." - -"All right," he grumbled, "though I don't think you're treating me -fair. But this little service I'm doin' you will make a bit of a -bond between us, Rada. I take it for as good as an engagement; you -understand that, don't you?" - -"Yes, yes," said the girl petulantly, and with her usual -thoughtlessness. "But don't worry me now, Jack. I'm all impatience -to get this business settled. Let's go back to the stables." - -The man did not move. He was digging a hole in the soft earth with -his heel. "No hurry," he said. "I brought you out here to talk this -matter over. I know I'm all right up to date. Your father's quite -ready that I should marry you; he knows I've got the brass. It's -only you I'm not sure about since this fellow Clithero came along. -You may have seen a lot of him in London, for all I can tell. What -were you doin' round at the Grange the other night?" - -"So it was you, was it?" exclaimed Rada. "I thought so. You -frightened me. Why were you hanging about the house? Was it because -you thought I should be alone?" She spoke out fearlessly, and from -the man's manner she knew she had divined the truth. - -"I was jealous," he muttered. It was a palpable lie, since he could -not have known of Mostyn's arrival. - -Rada let it pass. She was too eagerly bent upon attaining her own -desire to weigh consequences. - -"It's getting late," she said impatiently. "We must be going, Jack." -She tugged at his sleeve, seeking vainly to induce him to rise. - -"Tell me first," he said, "that this fellow Clithero is nothing to -you. I'm not afraid of anything else. Whether Castor wins the Derby -or not you'll be engaged to me this time next year. But let me hear -you say what I want." - -"Mr. Clithero is nothing to me, nothing at all," exclaimed Rada, -biting her lip. "I only met him once before that evening at the -Grange, and then I was rude to him. I was rude to him again that -night. I expect he hates me, and will hate me all the more because -of Castor." She spoke vehemently, just as the words came to her lips. - -"Good!" Jack rose languidly and slowly from the bench. "Then we'll -be gettin' back and I'll do as you ask me." He passed his arm under -hers with an air of proprietorship; then, as they stood under the -shadow of the trees, stooped to kiss her. - -She started away from him. "No, not that, Jack," she cried. "Don't -treat me like another Daisy Simpson. I'm not that sort. We're not -engaged yet, whatever we may be next year. If you want me you've got -to wait, and that's irrevocable." - -"All right," grumbled the man. "But you're a maddenin', aggravatin' -little vixen, Rada, and the Lord knows why I should trouble myself so -much about you. You've got a hold on me somehow, and I expect you'll -keep it." - -And, so, walking now staidly by her side, he conducted her back to -his father's house, which adjoined the stables. - -About nine o'clock that night Mostyn sat in the drawing-room of the -Grange, studying a book on breeding, "Hodgson's Breeding Tables." He -was quite alone in the house. After a time, however, his thoughts -wandered, and, naturally, they turned to Rada. - -As he thought of the girl there came a tap upon the open window, and -looking up, he saw her there, a small elf-like figure standing in the -moonshine. - -He started up from his chair, dropping the book upon the floor, as -she entered the room. There was a smile upon her lips, a smile that -was triumphant but not altogether happy, and he thought that there -were dark borders to her eyes, black rings which he had not noticed -before. - -"I knew that you would be alone in the house," she said, "and that's -why I did not trouble to go to the front door." - -"Rada, I'm delighted," he began. - -"So am I," she interrupted, "delighted that I am able to settle up -the matter of Castor so quickly. Here is your money." She had been -holding her left hand behind her; now she drew it forward and dropped -upon the table a little crumpled packet of bank-notes. "A thousand -pounds," she said defiantly. "You'd better count them and see if -they are right." - -"Rada!" Mostyn spoke her name boldly. He had noticed the trembling -of the little white hand which had dropped the notes upon the table; -he had noticed, too, a tone of desperation in the girl's voice--a -tone which she had attempted to conceal by assumed bravado. He -seized her hand before she could draw it away, and held it tightly in -his own. "Rada, where did you get that money?" - -She struggled with him, but ineffectually. "What does it matter to -you where I got the money," she panted, "and how dare you call me -Rada? Let me go. I've paid my debt, and that's all I came for." - -"I don't want the money." He took the notes in his free hand, -crushing them in his strong fingers. "Don't you understand that -Castor is yours already? I've given him back to your father, who has -accepted him on your behalf. He made no suggestion of repaying the -thousand pounds, and I know that it isn't from him that you've got -the money." - -A suspicion of the truth had flashed into Mostyn's brain, and he -spoke sternly, keeping his eyes fixed upon the girl's face. - -She made another effort to release her hand, but a more feeble one. -Somehow the touch of Mostyn's fingers upon her wrist, the firm grip -of them, was not unpleasing to her; she felt his mastery, she felt -that she was dealing with a man. - -"What right have you to question me?" she panted. - -"No right--except that I love you." The words came out against his -will; he had had no intention whatever of speaking them. - -"You love me!" Suddenly she ceased to struggle. A look that was -almost one of terror came into her eyes. Of his own accord Mostyn -released her hand. She stood staring at him, motionless, save for -the quick rise and fall of her bosom. - -"You love me!" she repeated, then she broke out into wild, almost -hysterical, laughter. - -"Yes, you little untamed, self-willed thing! I do love you, and I'm -not going to let you make a fool of yourself. I shouldn't have told -you I cared, if it had not been for that." - -"But you love me!" she repeated, breaking off in her laughter. "Why -do you love me? I can't understand it. I've never been even nice to -you--I've been a little beast. And we've hardly met more than four -times in our lives. Yet you love me." - -"Heaven knows why," he returned. "Who can understand or explain -these things? You've wound yourself round my heart in some -extraordinary way. I've hated and loved you at the same time. -You've never been out of my thoughts. Sometimes I don't know even -now----" - -She turned upon him sharply. "Whether it's hate or love," she -prompted, laughing again, but at the same time clasping her hands -nervously together. "They say the two are akin. But it had better -be hate, Mr. Clithero. You said yourself this morning that we must -be rivals, and rivals can't love each other, you know. You want to -beat me out of the field, and I want to beat you--that's why I've -bought back my Castor. Do you think I would ever have accepted him -from you as a gift? Never, never! Without that money I should have -given Castor up. But I knew how I could get it when I spoke to you -this morning: yes, I knew what I had to do." - -She had moved away from him, and had placed the width of a little -table between them. She stood by this, leaning her hands heavily -upon it as though she needed its support. - -"We are to be rivals," she continued, "there's no getting away from -it. You'd better hate me, Mr. Clithero, for if you get the better of -me at the Derby I shall hate you--I can tell you that." - -"No, I love you." Mostyn moved round the table as though to take her -in his arms, to crush her into submission. But she lifted one hand -with an imperious gesture. - -"Don't speak of loving me," she cried; "it's absurd, impossible." -Again she laughed hysterically. Her eyes were soft, and Mostyn -thought he could detect a suspicious moisture glistening upon her -lashes; but her voice belied her eyes. "It's just like with Castor," -she panted. "You wanted Castor when there were so many other horses -you might have bought. Now you want me, when there are hundreds of -other girls." - -"Tell me"--Mostyn paid no heed to her wild and unreasoning words--"is -there anyone else, Rada?" The recollection of the meeting that -afternoon came to his mind. "Do you love Jack Treves? Is it from -him that you have obtained this money--money that I don't want, and -won't touch? You are not engaged to him--I should have heard of it -if you were. My God!" A thought struck him, and he stepped quickly -forward and passed his strong arm about the girl. "Rada, oh, you -poor little thing! Look at me, if you can--tell me that you haven't -promised yourself to him in return for this wretched money." - -Her head was bent, he tried to lift it, and to look into her eyes. -He felt her yielding to him; he felt the trembling of her limbs, the -heaving of her breast, the quick panting of her breath. He was -trembling, too, as he gradually raised her face to his, as he gazed -down into her eyes that were glistening with tears and with a strange -light he had never seen in them before, as he marked her full, red -lips, lips a little parted, and that seemed to shape an appeal. - -"Rada," he cried wildly, "you don't love any other man? I can read -it in your eyes. Rada, I love you." His lips were to hers, and for -one moment--a moment in which all the emotions of a lifetime were -crowded, she lay impassive in his arms. - -Then, as if she were suddenly aroused from a dream, a shudder passed -through her, her body stiffened, and with a low cry, a sob, she -struggled free. - -"How dare you, how dare you?" she gasped. She sped swiftly to the -window, leaving Mostyn standing aghast before this fresh -inconsistency of woman. "I'll never forgive you--never! I--I hate -you." - -With which she swung out into the night, and a moment later Mostyn -could hear her sobbing as she ran down the gravel path. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -MOSTYN PREPARES FOR BATTLE. - -"Well, my boy, I'm glad to have seen you, and to have heard all about -this curious business from your own lips. Gad, I could hardly -believe it, when Pierce first told me, but thought he was trying to -pull my leg! The young dog, it's just the sort of thing he might -have been capable of." - -Genial "Old Rory" smiled indulgently at his nephew, and then turned -again to Mostyn, to whom he had been addressing himself. - -"Anyway, you may depend upon me to do all I can to help you. It's -about the finest sporting event I've ever come across in my life, and -there's humour in it, too"--Sir Roderick's broad features reflected -his appreciation of this--"just the sort of humour that I should have -expected of my poor old friend, Anthony Royce. To give a man--one -who knows nothing about racing--forgive me Clithero, but that's true, -isn't it?--a big capital, and oblige him, if he's going to win a -still bigger legacy at the end of it, to steep himself in racing, -just because there's an old grudge to be paid off against the -legatee's father, who abhors racing as he abhors the devil--well, -there's something that appeals to me in that, and I wouldn't miss the -fun of watching your progress for the next year, no, not if I never -won another race in my life. Here's luck to you, Clithero!"--the old -man lifted a foaming glass of champagne to his lips as he spoke--"may -you do justice to yourself, to Royce's memory, and to your father." - -"Old Rory" laughed again as he spoke the last words. He was -picturing to himself the expression of John Clithero's face when the -latter came to learn that his son was becoming a prominent figure -upon the turf. - -"He'll moan about the sins of the children being visited upon the -fathers," Sir Roderick muttered to himself, then continued: "But -don't you let out your secret, my boy, not to a living soul except -those who are already in the know. It's a good thing your solicitors -could keep it quiet for you. If anything of the truth leaked out -before you had carried the job through, the difficulties of your task -would be magnified a hundred-fold. You may take that from me, and I -know what I'm talking about." - -Mostyn and Pierce had been dining, as Sir Roderick's guests, at the -Imperial Club. Mostyn had only arrived in town the day before, and -Pierce, who had been impatiently awaiting him, was not prepared to -allow the grass to grow under their feet. He was as keenly -interested in Mostyn's success as was the latter himself. The dinner -with Sir Roderick had been arranged at his suggestion. - -"'Old Rory' is the best fellow in the world," he had told Mostyn, -"and he can do more for you than any man I know of in -London--introduce you to the right sort of people, and all that kind -of thing. If we can get him really interested in our struggle, why, -the battle will be more than half won before it has commenced." - -Mostyn had been anxious at first that nothing should be said to Sir -Roderick MacPhane about the unsatisfactory deal he had made over the -colt Castor; he was very shy of any allusion to Rada, and the whole -story of Captain Armitage's duplicity could hardly have been touched -upon without some reference to the girl. - -Besides, after all, so Mostyn had argued with himself, Captain -Armitage might be a disreputable and altogether unscrupulous old man, -but, nevertheless, he was Rada's father, and so a privileged person -in Mostyn's eyes. However, Pierce had advised that the truth should -be told, although, of course, it was not necessary to mention by what -means Rada had succeeded in paying for the colt. It was quite enough -to explain that, after having purchased Castor, Mostyn had discovered -his mistake and, out of consideration for Rada, had consented to the -whole transaction being annulled. - -To Pierce, Mostyn had unbosomed himself, making a clean breast of -everything; not even keeping back the incidents of that passionate -moment when he had held Rada in his arms, and, goaded on by some -impulse that he hardly understood himself, had told her of his love. -As a consequence he had been forced to listen to what Pierce was -pleased to call a lecture upon worldly wisdom. He had indeed been -rather severely taken to task. - -"Look here, Mostyn," Pierce had concluded by saying, "you've got a -stiff job before you, a task which is far more difficult than you -seem to think; well, if you're going to win you must put all thoughts -of love-making and suchlike nonsense out of your head. I know it's -jolly hard when a man gets taken that way--I ought to know, oughtn't -I? but I've got my year's probation, and now you've got yours as -well. Look at it in that light. You've got to think of horses for -the next year, and horses only. You'll come to grief if you go -running after the petticoats as well. As for Rada, she is like an -untrained filly, and you will have your work cut out for you if you -think of breaking her in. Do as you like in a year, old man; but you -can't stand a handicap yet." - -"You needn't worry about Rada, Pierce," Mostyn returned, without any -loss of temper. "There's not going to be any more love scenes -between her and myself. Why, she said she hated me, and we've never -met yet without quarrelling." - -"That's all right, then." Pierce had glanced sharply at his friend's -face as if to convince himself that Mostyn was quite serious. The -innocent! Why, according to his own tale, Rada had allowed him to -kiss her; she had rested for a few moments in his arms before she had -torn herself away, crying and protesting, just as Pierce would have -expected of her, wayward little creature that she was; and yet Mostyn -did not seem to realise that the game was in his own hands! He had -taken Rada quite seriously! - -Such was, indeed, the case, for Mostyn had left Partinborough without -seeing Rada again, quite convinced that his company was odious to her. - -Well, this was all for the best--so argued Pierce to himself, and, as -a wise man, with Mostyn's best interest at heart, it would be folly -for him to point out any possibility of mistake. - -After dinner was concluded that evening the three men retired to the -club smoking-room, in order seriously to discuss Mostyn's projects -for the future, and, of course, Sir Roderick MacPhane was allowed to -be spokesman. - -"Well, Mostyn," he said--he had easily dropped into the way of -calling the young man by his Christian name--"since you've lost -Castor, I expect you'll have to give up all hopes of doing anything -in next year's Derby. You're not likely to find another colt worth -the buying--certainly not one that could hold a candle to Castor--or -to my Pollux, for the matter of that. But, of course, if I have -correctly grasped the situation, the Derby is not a race that you -need consider seriously just yet. You have plenty of other chances -to win your money, and it is over those that you had better lay -yourself out. You've got to earn your legacy first, and then you'll -be in the position to direct all your attention to the Derby--that -is, if you're still anxious to make good what you said upon my coach -at Epsom a week or so back--that you would win the classic race in -five years' time." - -Sir Roderick laughed heartily as he recalled the scene. "I didn't -know what to make of you that day, Mostyn," he continued, "but I -understand now, that it was Royce who instigated you to that quixotic -speech of yours. You were being laughed at. Oh, my dear boy, how -you flushed! and how angry you looked with that little spitfire, Rada -Armitage!" - -Mostyn flushed now as if to prove that he had not yet lost the habit. -"I didn't understand what Mr. Royce meant either," he replied, "but I -just said what he told me. In fact, I said I would win the Derby in -five years' time instead of ten, as he suggested in my ear. Of -course, I was an arrant fool, and didn't know what I was talking -about." - -"Well, you stand a very good chance, thanks to our friend, Royce, of -carrying your words into effect," said Sir Roderick, "but, as I was -saying, unless you are absolutely pushed to it, I wouldn't worry my -head too much over next year's Derby. If you should fail in all the -other races that are open to you, then, of course, we must see what -is to be done--for the Derby is the last chance you've got, isn't it? -The year granted you by the terms of the will terminates with the -Epsom Summer Meeting next year?" - -"That is so," acquiesced Mostyn. "The Oaks will be absolutely my -last chance." - -"I understand." The old sportsman was silent for a few moments, -leaning forward, his elbows resting upon his knees, as if in thought. -Once, a club friend, passing close to him, addressed him by name, but -"Old Rory" only looked up and grunted, immediately afterwards -resuming his attitude of profound thought. The man passed on with a -smile--"Old Rory" and his quaint habits were well known and -understood by every member of the club. - -On his side Mostyn was in no hurry to interrupt the silence. -Everything that Sir Roderick had said so far quite coincided with his -own ideas. He had no wish whatever to run a horse for the next -year's Derby unless he was absolutely compelled by the circumstance -of forces to do so. The fact was that he did not wish to oppose -Rada, Rada who had set her heart upon winning that race. True, she -had in a way challenged him--he remembered the words quite well, for -she had spoken them on the first occasion of their meeting at -Partinborough Grange: "I'm only a girl, but I'll back myself to win -the Derby before you." That's what she had said, and later on, when -she found that he had purchased Castor she had jumped to the -conclusion that he had done so for the purpose of avenging himself -upon her--she, like everyone else, being ignorant of his real motive. - -For a little while he had felt that it would be pleasant to enter -into competition with her and to beat her upon her own ground, but -that was before he had become convinced that he loved her; now things -appeared differently to him, and he desired nothing more than that -Rada should win her cherished ambition; for himself he had to -concentrate his attention upon realising his legacy by winning one of -the other races that were open to him, and, that done, he would still -have four years left him in which to find a Derby winner--no light -thing, of course--but then, his means would be almost unlimited. He -felt that he owed it to Royce's memory to attain this end, quite as -much as for the gratification of his own self-esteem. - -But he would not hurt Rada if he could help it--that was the one -thing upon which his mind was made up. There was no reason whatever, -as he looked at the position now, why they should be opposed to each -other. The only rivalry between them lay in the undoubted fact that -she had defied him to win the Derby within five years, and he had -quite made up his mind to do so. - -Sir Roderick looked up at last, and turned his attention to his -coffee, which had been growing cold in front of him. He began to -stir it slowly and reflectively with a long cigar cutter, which he -had taken up in mistake for his spoon, a mistake over which he -laughed heartily when Pierce hastened to rectify it. - -"It's not only in my speeches that I blunder, apparently. That's -just what I am always doing in the House," he pronounced, "stirring -up things with the wrong sort of spoon. But the stirring gets done -all right, which is the main thing. But now to business," he went -on, "and this is my advice to you, Mostyn. You tell me you are going -to have a shot for the Royal Hunt Cup, the first race open to you; -well, of course, you can do so if you like, and there's no harm -whatever in trying your stride, but I can tell you right away that -you can't expect to do anything either for the Hunt Cup or at -Goodwood. The time is much too short. After Goodwood I see you have -the Leger--" Sir Roderick was inspecting, by means of one of the -circular magnifying glasses provided by the club, a written list of -the races which had been scheduled in Anthony Royce's will. "Well, -as to the Leger," he continued, "I really don't see that I can hold -out any hope for you there either. You are not likely to get a -three-year-old capable of beating either Hipponous or Peveril, and -they are both bound to run if fit. So it's as clear as a pike-staff -to me that your best chance will be for the Cesarewitch or the -Cambridgeshire, and with luck you might pull one of those races off. -Anyway I'll do what I can for you if you really think my advice and -assistance of any use--in fact, I've already got an idea that I may -be able to secure a horse for you for the Cesarewitch; I won't tell -you its name just yet, however, but you can take it from me that it -will be a good thing." - -Mostyn was loud in his thanks, and before the little party broke up -that evening, he was as confident of winning his legacy as if the -money were already in his pocket. - -"Well, good-bye, my boy," Sir Roderick said, when he rose to go--he -always observed early hours on those occasions when he was not -sitting late in Parliament. "You've been set a task that I envy you. -Go straight at it for all you are worth, and don't be afraid of -spending your money--that's the safest way of putting it in your -pocket." - -Of course, both Pierce and Mostyn laughed heartily over this -characteristic bull, an inversion of ideas that had a sound basis of -truth as far as Mostyn was concerned. It was perhaps significant of -the real interest that "Old Rory" was taking in his subject that he -had only perpetrated one bull in the course of that evening. - -Left alone, the two young men ordered whisky and soda, and then they -fell to discussing their own more intimate affairs. It may be -assumed that the names of Cicely and Rada--this in spite of Pierce's -eloquent discourse on worldly wisdom--were repeated many times before -the sitting came to an end. For now that Mostyn had come to town -there was no reason why he should not see his sister; of course, he -could not go to Bryanston Square, but they might easily meet by -appointment somewhere else--say at Mostyn's rooms in Jermyn Street. -And naturally, since Pierce was forbidden to see Cicely, he was eager -to hear all about her from her brother. - -"I don't see why you should scold me about Rada," Mostyn smiled, -when, a little before midnight, he parted from his friend at the -corner of Jermyn Street, "you have spoken of nothing but Cicely for -the last hour, and I haven't been able to get in a word edgeways." - -"Cicely and I love each other," returned Pierce thoughtlessly. - -Mostyn reflected upon those words rather bitterly as he walked slowly -down Jermyn Street. Yes, of course, it was different--very -different. Pierce and Cicely had been engaged, were presumably -engaged still, in spite of the year's probation that had been imposed -upon them. At the end of that year, whether further opposition were -offered on the part of John Clithero or not, the two young people -would come together again, and all would be well between them. - -How different it was with himself! How extraordinary that he should -have fixed his affections upon a girl with whom he could do nothing -but quarrel, who had made sport of him in public, and who had -declared that she hated him. What a fool he was, and how he wished -he could get the vision of Rada--Rada, with her glossy and rebellious -hair, and with her piercing black eyes--out of his brain. Rada, who -had called herself a devil when he had insisted that she was an angel! - -Well, it was a good thing that he had so much to occupy his thoughts. -Pierce was right, and he must give himself up wholly to the task -before him--he must leave Rada to Jack Treves, if it could really be -possible that she cared for the trainer's son. Rada was not for him. - -He sighed heavily as he entered his room and switched on the electric -light. A little pile of letters awaited him upon the table, and -topmost of all was one addressed in a rather straggling, feminine -handwriting; Mostyn, taking it up curiously, perceived that it bore -the Partinborough postmark. - -He knew at once, instinctively, that the letter was from Rada -herself--from Rada, whom he was trying his best to forget. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -MOSTYN MAKES AN ENEMY. - -"I don't hate you!" Rada's letter began quite abruptly. "Indeed I -don't, Mr. Clithero, and I was a little beast to say I did, and I am -writing to you now because my conscience pricks me. You were very -good--awfully good--to me about Castor, and I am grateful to you, I -really am. I know how you insisted on giving the colt back to my -father, and the terms you exacted from him. I don't believe you -bought Castor out of any malice towards me, and I only said so -because I was in a temper and couldn't control my tongue. Then you -would insist upon my being an angel, a paragon of virtue, when I was -feeling myself a wicked little devil--and that was silly of you, you -know--you ought to understand women better. - -"But I feel I want to be friends with you, Mr. Clithero, and that is -why I am writing. I haven't got so many that I can afford to part -with one. We are rivals in a way, and since I have got Castor back, -I do think I stand the best chance of winning the Derby first. As -far as that part of our bet goes--since you will insist upon looking -at it as a bet--I have the advantage. But, then, it wasn't fair to -you from the start. I spoke, knowing that I had got Castor, while -you didn't even know that I had registered my colours. That was just -like me, so I won't attempt to excuse myself. - -"But since you are so eager to win a Derby, and prove me wrong in -what I said upon the coach, I do hope you will be successful. You -gave yourself five years, you remember, so you need not grudge me -Castor next June. Only I don't want you to go on spending a lot of -money over what was only, after all, a silly speech. Wouldn't it be -better for me to retract every word I said, and for us both to forget -all about it?" - -"Poor Rada!" mused Mostyn, smiling as he read. "She little knows, -she little guesses why I have taken up racing so keenly. I wonder -what she'll say later on when she sees me throwing my money about -right and left--in order to put it in my pocket, as 'Old Rory' would -say. She'll think I'm doing it only out of bravado, and just because -I want to get even with her. She'll think me a silly young fool," he -added, rather ruefully, "but I can't help it if she does. I won't -tell the truth, even to her, until I've succeeded in my task. Then I -don't mind who knows." - -A few minutes ago Mostyn had been telling himself that he must put -Rada out of mind altogether; now, as a consequence of her letter, he -found himself half unconsciously contemplating what he should say to -her upon their next meeting. - -Their ways were not to lie so far apart, after all. The girl did not -hate him, and it was only his colossal innocence which had made him -think she did. Mostyn was beginning to learn his lesson. - -But there was Jack Treves. Did she say anything in her letter about -Jack Treves? With fingers that trembled a little, he turned over the -page, and there, about half-way down, he espied the name of the -trainer's son. After that he resumed his reading of the letter at -the place where he had left off, his heart fluttering foolishly, the -written words upon the page dancing before his eyes. - -"And now, just a few words on another subject," so the letter went -on. "It's a thing that I can write better than I can speak--it's -about Jack Treves and that thousand pounds. It's true I got the -money from him, and that there's a sort of promise of marriage -between us. It's not only because he helped me to buy back Castor, -but there has been a vague kind of understanding, for the last year -or two, that I am to marry him some day. My father wants it. You'll -respect my confidence, I know, so I will tell you that there's a -considerable debt, and it must be paid off somehow." - -"The old blackguard!" commented Mostyn forcibly, when he reached this -point. "He's selling his daughter to pay off his debts--that's just -what it means. But to sell her to a low-down bounder like young -Treves--it's cruel and disgusting. And she, I don't believe she -cares for Treves a bit, really, and she's probably angry with herself -now because she's bound the fetters all the tighter about her by -going to him in one of those tempestuous tempers of hers and -borrowing a thousand pounds. A curse upon the money--if only Rada -had taken it back!" - -Mostyn had thrust the notes away in his safe at the Grange that -night, and there they had remained. It was a foolish thing to have -done, no doubt, but he could not bring himself to touch the money--it -was like fire to his fingers. - -Mostyn continued his reading. "The truth is, that I don't love -anyone--at least, I don't think I do. It did not seem to me to -matter if I married Jack Treves or not. He would do as well as -another--since I had to marry some day. And just now my mind is far -too full of other matters--of Castor, for instance, whom I think I -love better than any man upon earth--to think of marriage, or -anything of the sort. Jack understands that, and he's promised not -to bother me till after the Derby next year. I like him for that; -it's nice of him, don't you think so? - -"Now, Mr. Clithero, I think I've explained everything as well as I -can. You'll come back to the Grange soon, won't you? We'll be -friends, and try not to quarrel again." - -It was with mingled feelings that Mostyn, having read and re-read the -letter, folded it up and thrust it in his pocket. The one point that -stood out clearly in his mind was that Rada did not really love Jack -Treves, although she had allowed herself to drift into a sort of -engagement with him. Mostyn could not flatter himself, from anything -she said in her letter, that she had any deeper feeling towards -himself; but, after all, there was no saying what might happen in the -course of the next year. It was very clear that, till after Castor -had run in the Derby, Rada did not want to be bothered--that was her -own expression--with questions of love from him or from anyone else. - -Well, no doubt it was all for the best. He, himself, had quite -enough to occupy his attention till after the next Derby was raced -and won; in the meanwhile, it was an excellent arrangement that he -and Rada should be good friends, and he would willingly undertake, as -Jack Treves had evidently undertaken, not to "bother" her with any -further suggestion of his affection. Ultimately, if she should care -for him better than for Jack--his lip curled derisively at the mere -idea of the comparison--well, there was very little doubt that -Captain Armitage would not mind who married his daughter as long as -his debts were paid. - -"I shall be something like a millionaire by then, I hope," Mostyn -muttered to himself, "so Master Jack, if it's a question of money, I -think I shall stand a better chance than you." - -With which reflection and a satisfied smile upon his lips, Mostyn -retired to bed. - -"Well, all I can say is I hope you'll stick to the arrangement of -being just friends," Pierce grumbled when, the next day, Mostyn told -him of the letter he had received, and how he had answered -it--answered it, perhaps, with a little more enthusiasm than Pierce -altogether cared for, explaining that he was looking forward to the -day when he could return to Partinborough Grange. This, however, -could not be for a week or so, Mostyn had added, at any rate not till -after Goodwood. But the Cesarewitch was bound to bring him to -Newmarket. "Just the race that's going to mean so much for us," -Pierce commented with a sigh. - -"Don't be afraid, old man," laughed Mostyn, who was happier that day -than Pierce had seen him since his arrival in London--a bad omen, the -latter argued. "I give you my word that I'll put the Cesarewitch -before everything else. Rada doesn't want to be bothered, and I -won't bother her." - -And with this promise Pierce was constrained to be content. - -The days passed, and, as they had anticipated, their first essay--for -the Royal Hunt Cup--met with most indifferent success; they had, -indeed, been quite confident of failure long before the day of the -race. - -The same fate befell them, just as "Old Rory" had predicted, at -Goodwood, and later on, at the St. Leger. The latter race cost -Mostyn a good deal of money. The only animal that he had been able -to secure was a dark horse from the Manton stables, which, for -various reasons, could not be trained earlier in the year, and was -thought to have some chance. He proved an expensive bargain, and -came in with the ruck. The actual race was, as had been foretold, a -struggle between Hipponous and Peveril. These two horses fought out -their battle a second time, and the Doncaster course suited the -chestnut even better than that of Epsom. Once more Sir Roderick -MacPhane secured a victory. - -These defeats having been anticipated, neither Mostyn nor Pierce were -in any way discouraged; on the contrary, they were all agog with -excitement, for the day of the Cesarewitch was approaching, and for -this race they had secured a horse through the kind offices of Sir -Roderick, who had remembered his promise, with which they hoped to do -wonders. - -Gulliver, the horse in question, came of an irreproachable pedigree, -and could already boast of a good record. He had run third the -previous year, and was only carrying seven pounds more than on the -former occasion. Indeed, under the training of old Treves, to whom -Mostyn had naturally sent him, Gulliver soon become a hot favourite -for the Cesarewitch. - -Of course, by this time Mostyn and Rada had met again, not once but -many times. Gulliver being in the charge of Treves at Partinborough, -there was nothing to be wondered at in Mostyn running up and down -between London and his country home. Certainly his visits to the -Grange were brief, but then Pierce was always at his elbow to hurry -him away. Mostyn sighed but obeyed. His life seemed to be -compounded of long railway journeys all over the country; he had even -been dragged to Dublin for the Horse Show, and on another occasion he -had journeyed to Paris to view some horses which had been -particularly recommended to him. - -He was beginning to be talked about; the sporting papers were taking -notice of his name. His face had become a familiar one upon the -racecourse. A little later, unless he attained his object either at -the Cesarewitch or Cambridgeshire, he knew quite well that he was -bound to become an object of general curiosity, a young man who was -throwing himself wildly into the track of the spendthrift, the way -many had gone before him, those who foolishly dissipated fortunes on -the Turf. But then, of course, the world did not know, and, after -all, it mattered very little to him what the world should say. Let -it be clearly stated here that, apart from his genuine love of sport, -Mostyn took no pleasure in the apparently reckless course to which he -was pledged. He did not bet. His object was to achieve the task -which had been set him as quickly as possible, and then to take up -the position of the man who went in for racing reasonably, with -discretion and without the inordinate passion of the gambler. - -That John Clithero was already raging and fuming over his son's -growing notoriety, so much Mostyn already knew. He had seen Cicely -on several occasions soon after his first return to London from -Partinborough. These meetings had been a great pleasure to himself -as well as to the girl, as long as they could be continued, but -eventually, by some misfortune, John Clithero obtained an inkling of -them, and summarily brought them to a conclusion by denying his -daughter the liberty which she had till then enjoyed. - -Poor Cicely! Mostyn thought her sadly changed in those days. She -had always been a little shy and nervous in manner, not very strong -physically, but now these peculiarities were so markedly increased -that Mostyn had asked her anxiously, more than once, if she were sure -that she were not ill? - -She had replied that there was nothing amiss with her health, only -that she was not happy. Could it be expected that she should be -happy? Prevented from seeing her lover, she was always torturing -herself as to what the end of it all would be. Her father was -constantly telling her that she should never marry Pierce, that he -would see her in her coffin first, and though Pierce had declared to -her, taking all his gods to witness that he spoke the truth, that as -soon as the year's probation imposed upon him by his father had -passed, he would take her away from home and cheerfully set John -Clithero at defiance; although over and over again Mostyn, inspired -by Pierce himself, would repeat this statement to her, yet she always -shook her fair head, nervously clasping and unclasping her fingers, a -bright spot of colour rising ominously to the centre of each pale -cheek. - -"Who can say what will happen in a year's time?" she would murmur -half under her breath. "Our father is a strong man, Mostyn, and he -has always had his way. I feel that he will have his way with me." - -No arguments that Mostyn could adduce had any effect upon her, nor -would she consent to his suggestion that she should leave her home -and settle with him. His idea was that he could easily have -installed her at Partinborough Grange. - -But again Cicely shook her head, though her eyes glistened and became -wet with tears at her inability to accept. The truth was that she -was afraid, and perhaps not without reason, for, if she were free -from her father's yoke, living under her brother's care--her brother, -who was so constantly in the company of Pierce--well, then, the -temptation that both she herself and her lover would have to endure -might be more than their strength could withstand. They might meet, -the probability was that they would meet, and then Pierce would want -to set not only Mr. Clithero but his own father as well at defiance. -And to do this would mean his ruin: Cicely quite understood that, and -she was not going to allow him to run the risk. It was wiser, far -wiser, for her to endure her life at home, almost unbearable though -it was becoming because of her father's ill-temper so often directed -against herself, and because of the overbearing manner which both -James and Charles had adopted towards her: it was better for her to -put a brave face upon all this and to wait till the year's probation -had expired, hoping against hope that all might be well in the end. - -Mostyn, concerned as he was for his sister, had seen the reason of -her arguments, and he had comforted her as best he could, assuring -her of Pierce's fidelity, and pointing out, adopting a tone of levity -that he did not feel, that some months of the year had already -passed, and that the rest would go by quickly enough. But all the -same, his heart bled for his sister, and he would have liked nothing -better than to have had a few minutes uninterrupted conversation with -those brothers of his, James the Prig and Charles the Sneak; it was -against them that his animosity was chiefly directed, for he knew -that his father acted rightly according to his lights; but as for the -two younger men--well, Mostyn had good reason to mistrust them both. - -He had explained to Cicely that his sudden accession to wealth was -due to a legacy bequeathed to him by Anthony Royce; beyond this he -had entered into no particulars. Let John Clithero believe, as -undoubtedly he would believe, that his son had thrown himself into -the world of sport by his own inclination; Mostyn did not care very -much what interpretation might be put upon his acts. He had, indeed, -been more amused than annoyed when he was approached by his father's -solicitors with the request that, if he must go racing and squander -good money, he should adopt another name for the purpose. This was -only evidence of the fact that Anthony Royce's subtle revenge was -already taking effect, and that John Clithero was raging impotently -at the fancied degradation of his family honour. Yet what had -happened so far was nothing to what might be expected in the future: -so Mostyn, a little irritated by the tone adopted by the solicitors, -had felt bound to tell them. His father had cast him off cruelly and -unjustly, and now Mostyn was his own master, at liberty to face the -world as seemed best to him. - -When Pierce learnt that the meetings of Mostyn and Cicely had been -prohibited he was furiously angry, and it was all that Mostyn could -do to keep him from there and then proceeding to Bryanston Square and -summarily carrying Cicely off. But he calmed down after a time, and -admitted that the girl was right, that it was best not to precipitate -matters, nor to incur the anger of old Mr. Trelawny. - -"Although I must say," Pierce grumbled, "as I have said before, that -I can't make my governor out. He was loud in his praises of you for -having struck out your own course, but if I went and did the same -thing--well"--Pierce shrugged his shoulders disconsolately--"I -believe that Cicely and I might beg our bread for all that he'd care." - -So matters stood when Mostyn and Pierce took up their residence at -Partinborough Grange some ten days before the Newmarket meeting. The -house had been thoroughly put in order, and was now as comfortable a -residence as anyone could desire. As for the garden, this had -become, under the careful auspices of Willis--who had now someone to -work for--a very floral paradise. Perhaps it was for the sake of -Rada that Mostyn had given special care to the cultivation of roses; -he knew how she loved the flower, and how they had attracted her to -the Grange before he came. - -Mostyn and Rada met almost daily, but they met as good friends, -nothing more. Pierce could have had no possible reasons for -grumbling. Mostyn had quite made up his mind that the girl must not -be bothered by his attentions, and she herself seemed to appreciate -his decision, for she never referred in any way to that explanatory -letter which she had written to London. - -Mostyn had no particular reason to be jealous of Jack Treves, in -spite of the understanding which he knew existed between the girl and -the trainer's son. Rada showed herself, as far as she could, to be -impartial, and her one desire during these days seemed to be to -avoid, as far as she could, any reference to love or marriage: Castor -was her one care. - -Certainly Mostyn was not jealous, nor did he ever attempt, by word or -deed, to belittle Jack Treves in Rada's eyes--this though not -infrequently she would appeal to him for his opinion as to this or -that in the behaviour of Jack. He had fully made up his mind that he -would hold himself quite neutral and await events--the crisis that -would have to come after the following year's Derby. - -But as for Jack Treves, he did not look upon matters quite in the -same light, and when trouble came it was due wholly to his jealousy, -for he had quite decided that he had cause to be jealous. Thus it -was that he was the first to break the stipulation about not -bothering Rada, and she, in revenge, retaliated by cutting him for -days together and allowing herself to be more than ever in the -company of Mostyn. Of all this the latter knew nothing until, as was -to be expected, the storm broke. - -It was two or three days before the Cesarewitch and Mostyn had -strolled over to the stables to have a look at Gulliver after he was -brought in from exercise. He was strolling leisurely across the -stretch of open country towards the gates when he was suddenly -confronted by Rada, emerging flushed and excited, her lips pursed -angrily together, her eyes glittering with that look of irresponsible -defiance which Mostyn had already grown to recognise, though of late -it had not been directed against himself. - -Nor could it be so on the present occasion; he was quite sure of -that, for it was more than a fortnight since he and Rada had had -anything approaching a quarrel, and then it had been merely over some -trivial matter quickly forgotten. The girl would have passed him -with a little quick nod of her head, but he held out his arm and -impeded her. - -"What's up, Rada; what's wrong?" he asked. - -At first she would give him no explanation at all; she begged him to -let her go; her father was expecting her at home, and she was in a -hurry. But Mostyn, although he knew it was at some risk to himself, -took her by the arm and quietly demanded particulars. He had grown -in daring of late. - -"You must tell me, Rada," he said, "you really must. I insist." - -She looked at him, startled. It was the first time that he had -adopted a tone of command towards her. Perhaps in her heart she was -not altogether displeased, although for a few moments she was -inclined to resent his interference. - -But the truth came out in the end. She had just had a scene with -Jack Treves, and she was furious with him, so she asserted, perfectly -furious. He had been worrying her, making her life wretched, and now -matters had come to a climax. - -Mostyn did not guess that he was in any way the cause of this, nor -did Rada care to admit the fact. The trouble, however, on the -present occasion was more deeply seated. - -It was due, in a great measure, to Daisy Simpson. Jack had refused -to break off his intimacy with this young woman, even after his -semi-engagement to Rada had become generally known, with the very -natural result that tongues had wagged and scandal been hinted at. -Daisy had finally put an end to all this by taking her departure for -London with the avowed intention of going upon the stage. - -Jack had raged furiously and unreasonably, nor had he made any secret -of his annoyance. Since there was no definite engagement, he argued, -between himself and Rada he was clearly justified in maintaining his -old friendship; if there was any scandal about the matter it was the -fault of Rada and her ridiculous decree, a decree which placed him in -an absurd and quite anomalous position. He therefore demanded that -the girl should consent to her engagement to him being officially -announced. - -Such had been the cause of the trouble, and Jack Treves had just been -treated to a touch of Rada's temper. And, no doubt, to judge from -her flashing eyes and the contemptuous curve of her lips, he had been -badly worsted in the encounter. - -Rada appeared somewhat relieved when she had unbosomed herself of her -troubles. It was something new for her to find a confidant; under -ordinary circumstances she would have gone straight home, and there, -never having been accustomed to give way before her father or to tell -him anything of her doings, she would have shut herself up in her own -room to brood for hours together, or she might have saddled her mare -and ridden away, just for the mere want of sympathy, as she often did -when Captain Armitage happened to be in a particularly obnoxious -frame of mind, or muddled from drink, now more often than ever the -case. - -These ideas flashed quickly through Mostyn's brain as, awkwardly -enough, he attempted to speak words of consolation. All his heart -went out in sympathy to the wayward girl. How could it be expected -that Rada should be anything than just what she had become? - -"I won't have it announced to all the world that some day I am going -to be married to Jack," Rada cried, petulantly tapping the turf with -an impatient little foot. "When I have said a thing I mean to abide -by it, and I told Jack that there was to be no mention of any -engagement between us till after next June. It's bad enough to think -that I've got to be married at all----" - -"Rada, do you really care for Jack?" The words were upon Mostyn's -tongue, but he did not speak them. He was quite certain that Rada -did not really care for Jack, but at the same time he had no reason -to believe that she cared any better for himself. And what danger of -harming himself in her eyes might he not be running if he suggested -anything of the sort? Rada would only have two men bothering her, as -she expressed it, instead of one. Far better for him to bide his -time and let matters take their own course. - -Rada, of her own accord, made answer to the unspoken question. "I -think I'm beginning to hate him," she asserted. - -Mostyn turned his head away and, despite himself, his lips parted in -a smile, for he understood the words were spoken in temper and bore -no real significance. Had she not said the same to him? And for the -time being he had been fool enough to believe it. - -The truth was, so he told himself a little sadly, after Rada had left -him, that she cared for no one at all. It was the truth that she had -written in her letter. But could she not grow to care? She had had -so little of love in her life that, as yet, she hardly knew the -meaning of the word. - -"You are very good to me," so she had said when she left him that -morning, refusing his company on her way home: not that she would not -have been pleased to have it, but because she knew his time was -valuable. "I'm glad that we are friends, Mostyn"--she had come to -call him by his Christian name by now--"though I can't see what there -is in me for you to trouble yourself about." - -Mostyn would have liked to have told her there and then, but once -more discretion urged silence. - -His adventures of that morning were, however, not yet concluded, for -before he turned in at the stable gates he met Jack Treves himself -lounging heavily out, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his -breeches, his cap tilted to one side of his head, a cigarette thrust -between his lips and carried at an aggressive upward angle. - -"Good morning, Treves," said Mostyn. He was always on terms of armed -neutrality with the trainer's son, and he affected to take no notice -of the scowls with which the latter usually met him, and the scarcely -veiled impertinence of the tone which he was wont to adopt. Mostyn -had no wish to quarrel with Jack Treves, mainly for Rada's sake, but -also because he had a sincere respect for Jack's father, the rough, -simple-minded, and uneducated old trainer whom, nevertheless, he -recognised as a straightforward and honest man, one who was serving -him faithfully, and who was doing his utmost to ensure Gulliver's -victory. - -Jack came to a halt, standing aggressively between Mostyn and the -stable gates. He drew his hands from his pockets, removed the -cigarette from between his lips and blew out a cloud of smoke--smoke -the odour of which fell offensively upon Mostyn's nostrils. Jack's -fancy in tobacco was not of the most refined order. - -"I saw you talkin' to Rada just now," he said. "Been tryin' to -comfort her, I suppose, because I thought it time to have my say? A -nice sort of comforter you are!" There was a vicious sneer upon his -lips. "Look here," he went on, taking a menacing step forward and -dropping the tone of sarcasm which he had not the wit to maintain, -"what do you mean by it?" - -"Please explain yourself." Mostyn spoke very quietly; on such -occasions he never lost his temper, and always held himself under -complete control. His calmness galled his adversary. - -"You know jolly well what I mean. You're always hanging about Rada, -and ever since you've been here you've tried to make mischief between -us. Well, I'm not going to have it; I tell you that straight." - -The young man's words were liberally intersected with oaths. - -"You're labouring under a delusion," Mostyn said; then he too -advanced a step, as if to indicate that he had had enough of Jack's -company. - -But the latter, already goaded into a passion by Rada, appeared -anxious to vent some of it upon Mostyn. He was not lacking in pluck, -so much can be said for him, for he was in truth the smaller and -sparer man of the two. Mostyn, with his splendid physique, might -well have warned him to think twice before he ventured, as he -actually did, to break out with a string of invectives and foul -words. He had quite a remarkable vocabulary at his disposition. - -Even then Mostyn did not lose his temper, recognising that Jack -Treves was in a rage and not responsible for what he said. - -"You're a silly fellow, Treves," he remarked with perfect composure, -"and a foul-mouthed one at that. Just stand out of my way, please, -and let me pass. I've some business to talk over with your father." - -As he spoke he raised his arm to thrust Jack aside. But this was too -much for the latter; the idea that he should be treated with this -calm disdain, his protest simply ignored, and he himself pushed aside -as if he were of no account whatever, all this caused him completely -to lose control of himself.. He threw himself blindly upon Mostyn -and struck out wildly, not as he would have done in calmer moments, -for, as a matter of fact, lie rather fancied himself upon his -pugilistic powers. - -The next moment the natural result came about. Mostyn, forced to it -against his will, retaliated with a well-directed blow, and Jack -Treves measured his length upon the ground. The fight, if fight it -could be called, was very soon at an end, for Jack showed no further -inclination to renew the combat. - -"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Treves," Mostyn remarked, as his late -adversary sat up and dabbed a handkerchief to his damaged face. "But -really, you know, if you have anything to say you should be a little -more careful in the way you say it." With which Mostyn passed on. -The matter was concluded as far as he was concerned. - -But Jack Treves, behind him, scrambled to his feet. His lip was cut -and the blood was trickling down his chin. There was blood in his -mouth too, and he spat it out as once more a volume of oaths escaped -him. - -"D---- you, Mostyn Clithero!" he cried, safely now, for the object of -his hatred was well out of ear-shot. "You haven't downed me for -nothing, I can tell you that. I'll be even with you some day, you -mark my words!" - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -MOSTYN FACES DEFEAT. - -"Pierce, old man, I'm afraid we are going to be beaten." Mostyn -pushed his chair back from the dinner table, lit a cigarette and -disconsolately watched the little rings of smoke which he blew in -quick succession from his lips. - -The two friends were seated in the dining-room of the Grange, and -they had just partaken of a good dinner, which had been well served -up by a quiet man-servant, who had been in Mostyn's service for the -last eight months. - -The winter, following a series of reverses, had come and gone, and -now, though the prescribed year had nearly elapsed, Mostyn found -himself apparently as far as ever from successfully carrying out the -terms of his bequest. - -On the following day the Two Thousand Guineas would be run, then -there was the Thousand; after that there remained the Derby and the -Oaks--and that was all. - -Pierce stared straight at the wine-glass which he had just filled -with fine old port, of which Mostyn had found a good supply in his -cellar. He had little to say by way of comfort. - -"I am afraid Asmodeus will go down, like the rest of them," he -muttered. "He hasn't an earthly chance against Don Quixote. And -then there's Bouncing Boy." - -"Bouncing Boy won't win either," commented Mostyn. He was very -proficient in racing by now, an excellent judge of winning form. He -had formulated quite a theory in his own mind of horses for courses, -but whenever he tried to buy a good horse that had already won a big -handicap he was always met by difficulties in the way of refusal to -sell. "Don Quixote will win, and win easily. Asmodeus may be -second, but what's the use of that to me?" he added. "I'm sick of -horses that are placed second." - -Herein, indeed, was disclosed much of the irony of the whole -position. Three times in quick succession on the flat Mostyn's -horses had been accorded the second place, which was palpably no use -to him whatever. The Lincolnshire, the Chester Cup, and the City and -Suburban--in all three of these races Mostyn's horses had come in -second. - -"We've done our best," commented Pierce, after a moment's pause; "at -least there's that to be said. But it was too hard a task, Mostyn: -Anthony Royce made it too stiff for you." - -"At any rate he obtained what he wanted." Mostyn looked up with a -quaint smile. "He steeped me in racing and he made my father wild; -he got his revenge right enough. The papers are always advertising -my name. It is 'Mr. Clithero, that ubiquitous young sportsman, has -purchased so and so'; or 'Mr. Clithero, the irrepressible, will run -so and so for such a race.' They write articles about me, comment on -my not betting, on my personal appearance, and all the rest of it. -I've seen my portrait in the papers till I'm sick of the sight of it. -Some call me plucky; others laugh at me for my folly and think I'm -just a wild young spendthrift. My father sees all those papers; -Cicely tells me in her letters that he has them sent to him. He must -simply rage with fury. That's just what Royce wanted. You remember -how my father tried, through the solicitors, to put a stop to my -racing under my own name?" - -Pierce nodded. The mention of Cicely had set up a new train of -thought in his mind; he heard what was said without paying particular -heed to it. - -"Of course I couldn't do that," Mostyn went on; "and my refusal must -have made the poor old man more angry than ever, and I expect the -very idea that I had been left money by Anthony Royce, his enemy, -must have driven him half crazy." - -"He's making things almost impossible at home," put in Pierce, -following his own thoughts. "You know how Cicely, poor child, writes -of him. His temper is abominable, and she always has to bear the -brunt of it. Cicely hardly dare send you a letter now because she is -accused of abetting you in your misdeeds." Pierce frowned and kicked -viciously at the leg of the table. "And then, hasn't he threatened -to turn her out of the house unless she will consent to promise never -to marry me? Oh! I tell you, Mostyn, her life must be a hell, a -hell!" He rose and promenaded the room with long strides. - -Cicely's relations with her father were perhaps even worse than -Pierce was aware of. She had written long letters to Mostyn--though -of late he had guessed, from the rarity with which she wrote, that -her correspondence had been placed under surveillance--and had poured -out her heart to him. She had begged him, however, to observe -discretion with Pierce, fearing to cause the latter unnecessary -trouble. She was still convinced that she must hold out till the end -of the year, but it was hard, very hard, to do so. - -The chief cause of offence was her constancy to her lover. She -steadily refused to give him up, even though, day after day, John -Clithero poured out upon her the vials of his wrath. The smallest -word would lead to a scene, and she had no one to turn to for -comfort, for both her brothers were united against her. - -"Go and join Mostyn, the profligate," John Clithero would cry, -lifting his fists in impotent rage. "You are children of Belial, -chaff for the burning. My sin is upon me, that I have begotten such -as you!" - -Knowing of these scenes, Pierce had gone to his father and again -begged to be allowed to take Cicely away at once; but the old man had -relented nothing of his stubbornness, though when he spoke of the -year's probation which he had imposed upon his son, there was always -that queer look upon his face which Pierce could not understand. - -"Don't let's worry our heads over these things to-night, old chap," -Mostyn said at last. "To-morrow's the Guineas--another step in my -progress. Come and sit down, and let's talk over our chances." - -After a few more rapid strides up and down, Pierce adopted the -suggestion, and soon, for the time being, he had forgotten his own -troubles in fighting anew with Mostyn their past battles, in -preparing a brave face for what was still to come. - -There was not one race out of all those scheduled in the will which -Mostyn had neglected. He had thrown himself, heart and soul, into -his task. Pierce, with his better knowledge of the Turf, had ably -advised and seconded him. - -In so many instances they had come near to victory--that was the -heart-rending part of it all. Success had seemed within their grasp, -only to be snatched away at the last moment. - -The Cesarewitch--that had perhaps been the greatest disappointment of -all. A horse like Gulliver, with his pedigree and his record, hot -favourite, too, as he had been made--Mostyn and Pierce had indeed -been justified in their belief that with Gulliver their great object -would be achieved. - -But Gulliver failed, and that apparently by sheer ill-luck. How -clearly all the particulars were engraved upon Mostyn's brain! The -bad news had come to him--the news that forecasted the failure that -was to follow--a couple of days before the race, and almost -immediately after the short, sharp tussle which he had had with Jack -Treves outside the gates of the stables. He had found the trainer -awaiting him, an ominous yellow paper in his hand, an expression of -keen anxiety upon his honest face. - -"I'm sorry, sir, upon my word, I'm as sorry as if the affair were my -own." Thus had spoken the blunt old man. - -"What's up, Treves?" Mostyn had asked, a sense of misgiving seizing -upon him. Old Treves would not have looked so worried without a real -cause. - -The latter handed over the telegram without another word, and Mostyn -realised what had happened. The jockey who was to have ridden -Gulliver--none other than the redoubtable Fred Martin himself, the -same who had steered Hipponous to victory at the Derby--Fred Martin -had been taken ill, was lying in hospital, and had been forced now, -at the eleventh hour, to throw up the sponge. - -"It's all true, sir," Treves said, as if he had an idea that Mostyn -might have doubted the genuineness of the story. "I'd stake my life -that Fred Martin wouldn't give up unless he was forced--the lad's as -straight as they make 'em." - -The blow was irreparable, and Mostyn realised it at once. At such -short notice it was practically impossible to find an adequate -substitute, and the jockey who finally rode Gulliver, a mere boy, -proved himself unequal to the task. The horse was bad-tempered, and -realised at once that a stranger was on his back. He made a bad -start, and, though he picked up afterwards, only succeeded in running -into third place. - -Mostyn, who had felt that with Gulliver the game was in his hands, -was terribly cast down; but there was, luckily perhaps, no time for -serious reflection. The Cambridgeshire followed on so quickly, and -here again, all his plans having been carefully laid, he stood a very -fair chance. - -When the weights for the Cambridgeshire had been announced, it was -found that Silver Star, the property of a well-known nobleman, had -been treated most leniently by the handicappers. The mare at once -became a raging-hot favourite, and Mostyn spared no expense in his -endeavours to purchase her. The noble owner was by no means inclined -to sell, but, finally--and here again Mostyn had to thank Sir -Roderick for his good offices--the deal was carried through, though -it made a terrible inroad into Mostyn's diminishing capital. - -But the day before the race, just when she was about to be -transferred from Treves's stables to Newmarket, Silver Star was found -to be ailing. There were suspicious circumstances about the case, -too, for the horse's illness was so very sudden and unexpected, also -it appeared difficult to diagnose the actual cause of the trouble. -On the other hand, it was impossible to throw suspicion upon anyone. -Had Jack Treves been at home, Mostyn might have felt interested in -his movements at that time, but Jack had been sent away by his father -to purchase horses in another part of the country, and so, as far as -Silver Star was concerned, he seemed beyond suspicion. - -It was due to the discretion of old Treves himself that Jack had been -sent away. The trainer had learnt of the assault upon Mostyn, and -had immediately taken vigorous and characteristic action. He had not -spared his son, but had rebuked him in round and unmeasured terms, -both for his treatment of Rada--having regard to his philandering -with Daisy Simpson--and for his utter folly in risking the making of -bad blood between his father and his father's best client. - -Old Mr. Treves had every wish to see the engagement between Jack and -Rada a settled thing; having made money himself, he was now anxious -that his son should raise himself in the social scale. But, from his -point of view, Jack was busily engaged in spoiling his best chances. - -"Mark my words," he said, "you will lose the girl altogether if ye -don't treat her as a real lady--which she is. Daisy Simpson, -indeed!"--the old man sniffed indignantly--"carrying on with a drab -like that! Why, you are just askin' to get the chuck, that's what -you're doin'--askin' for it." Here his indignation almost -overpowered him. "It's a good thing you caught it from Mr. -Clithero," he went on, "an' wot you got served you right. If you -hadn't been punished already, I've a mind to hide you myself--yes, to -take the stick to you, as I did when you was a lad--what's more, I -could do it, too!" - -Old Treves was bulky, broad of shoulder, and in rude health; as -father and son stood there together it looked very much as if the -elder man could easily have carried his words into effect. - -"Anyway, you shan't be hangin' about the place, making a nuisance of -yourself, more'n I can help till after next June. Miss Rada shall -have the clear run she wants, and I expect the less she sees of you, -in the meanwhile, the more she'll be likely to take to you in the -end." - -It was, as a consequence of this, that Jack, despite his grumbles and -the consciousness that he was giving a clear field to his rival, was -packed off from Partinborough, and troubled Mostyn and Rada very -little more during the months that ensued. - -Silver Star was scratched for the Cambridgeshire, and so Mostyn's -last hope for that year expired. He had now some four months to wait -in which to make his preparations for the big steeplechase in the -following March, as well as for the Lincolnshire. - -Mostyn had taken no advantage of Jack's summary dismissal from -Partinborough. He was, indeed, only on and off at the Grange, -finding that he had plenty to occupy him in London. He had taken up -a definite position with regard to Rada, and he was resolved to -adhere firmly to it. She knew he loved her; it was for her to -choose, when the time came, between him and Jack. She could break -off her semi-engagement to the latter if she pleased; should Castor -win the Derby, she would certainly have the means of paying off her -debt; besides, apart from this, she was already making money with her -horse, whose record was as yet unbroken. Castor had won everything -for which he had been entered. Then there was the thousand pounds -still reposing in Mostyn's safe--this money was quite at her -disposition if her pride would allow her to take it. All this Mostyn -had told her. So it was for Rada to choose. Mostyn would not speak -of his love, he would not "bother" her. They met constantly, they -teased each other, they quarrelled now and then--always making peace -very quickly--and there were times when Mostyn thought that the eyes -of the girl were wistful, times when he could not help fancying that -she would show no bitter resentment if he opened his arms to take her -to them, as he had done once before. - -In his way he was stubborn, stubborn in his determination to abide by -the conditions he had imposed upon himself. It was true that he did -not understand women, and Rada was, of course, a particularly complex -study. "I'll wait till after the Derby," so he told himself over and -over again. "Rada wants no talk of love till then; has she not said -so?" He often wondered why Rada should sometimes be cross with him -without a cause; and once--he remembered quite well--she had burst -into tears and run away; it was just before he left Partinborough for -a longer stay than usual in town. - -All this while, although, so far, failure had befallen him, there was -not the smallest doubt in his mind that he would ultimately be -successful in carrying out the terms of Anthony Royce's bequest. - -But a fresh series of failures awaited him at the opening of the -season. The Lincolnshire--that was the first of the three races in -which his horse had run into second place; then had followed the -Grand National, and here, having successfully negotiated Beecher's -Brook and Valentine's Brook on the first round, Mostyn's mare, -Giralda, had come badly to grief upon the second round; both jockey -and mare were injured, the latter so much so that she had then and -there to be shot. - -The Chester Cup--second again; and finally, the City and Suburban, -with exactly the same result. - -Now there remained Asmodeus, who was second favourite for the Two -Thousand Guineas, and a filly for the Thousand, whose training, -however, had been insufficient for Mostyn to place much reliance upon -her. She might possibly do better for the Oaks--absolutely Mostyn's -last chance--but even with regard to this he had little confidence. -For a long while he had steadily refused to have anything to do with -the Derby, and so valuable time had been lost. Now he had a colt -named Cipher in training, but Cipher was not a patch upon either -Castor or upon Sir Roger's Pollux, and could hardly be looked upon as -standing a chance. Such was the present position, and, considering -it squarely and without bias, both Mostyn and Pierce had to admit -that it was a desperate one. - -"That beast of a Jew, Isaacson, will carry off the Two Thousand," -groaned Pierce. "Don Quixote is bound to win on his form. We shall -be in for another second. The only thing is, that we've got a better -man up. Stanhope is a fine jockey, while Wilson is a fellow whom I -never trusted, and they speak badly of him in the ring. But I expect -he's being well paid for his job." - -Isaacson, the owner of Don Quixote, was the same man whose horse, -Peveril, had so nearly won the Derby against Hipponous. He had only -made his appearance upon the Turf within the last year or so, since -some successful speculation had brought him a fortune. The only good -point about him, so Pierce was wont to aver, was that he had not -shown himself ashamed of his name, or of the method by which he had -earned his living. He had been a bill discounter and money lender -upon rather a large scale, and though he was reputed hard, no -imputation had ever been made upon his honesty. Since wealth had -come to him, he had given away large sums in charity, but this was -probably in order that he might win the popularity which he coveted. -He liked to make a big show, and his racing colours were all gold. - -After a while Pierce rose, yawned, and expressed his determination to -go to bed. The two young men had dined late, and their discussion -had been a prolonged one. "Good-night, old chap," he said, "and -don't worry your mind more than you can help. Things may come all -right, after all. Asmodeus is a good horse, and there are a lot who -fancy him." - -Mostyn looked up brightly as he nodded good-night. "Oh, I'm not -worrying!" he said, "the whole thing has been a gamble, hasn't it, -Pierce? And he's a poor gambler who growls at his losses." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -MOSTYN IS TEMPTED. - -Left alone, Mostyn drew his arm-chair nearer the fire, and settling -himself comfortably, gave himself up to solitary reflection. The -evenings were still fresh, for May had set in unseasonably, and a -fire was by no means to be despised. It was, indeed, because the -dining-room was the warmer of the two sitting-rooms that Mostyn had -elected to occupy it that evening. Frazer, the man-servant, had long -ago cleared the table, and so Mostyn did not expect to be disturbed. - -Of course, as was only natural, his thoughts turned to Rada. And -now, as he sat gazing into the fire, he knew that he had been very -dense. That foolish stubbornness of his--it was there that the blame -lay. He had made up his mind that Rada's injunction was to be obeyed -strictly and to the letter, and so he had put temptation behind him, -even when his common-sense, combined with his racing experience, told -him that the time had come to force the pace. - -He had refrained from speaking, although, over and over again, he had -read invitation in Rada's eyes; he had given his word to her, he had -given his word to Pierce; besides, Rada's semi-engagement to Jack -Treves was still an accepted fact, and so Mostyn argued that until -she, voluntarily and of her own accord, elected to break with Jack, -he had no right to interfere. He had never doubted that she would do -this after the Derby, when the question of a formal engagement was to -be raised. - -Of course, there was much overstraining at honour in all this, as -well as a lamentable ignorance of the feminine nature; but then that -was Mostyn all over. He did not--in this case, it was almost would -not--take into account the possibility, the inherent probability, of -a woman changing her mind. He was quite aware that Rada's moods were -as variable as those of the proverbial April day, and yet he insisted -upon taking her literally, with the natural result that his attitude -was sorely misunderstood. - -For Rada had come to the conclusion that his feelings towards her had -undergone a change--that he no longer cared--and she was miserable in -consequence. Mostyn had been aware of this fact for some little time -past; he was now only too conscious of all that he had left undone. -He would have asked nothing better than to go to Rada and speak out -his love; it was no longer stubbornness and a straining at honour -that hindered him. It was something more potent than that. - -For, now that all might have been well, another factor in the case -had arisen, another opponent had sprung into being, and poor Mostyn -was beginning to realise that he was beaten all along the line. Rada -was further away from him than ever just when she seemed to be most -near. - -Ruin stared him in the face--irrevocable ruin. He was a -failure--Anthony Royce's millions would never be his. In another -month's time he would be plunged back into poverty--he would have -nothing left, nothing save the Grange, which he would not be able to -keep up. All the ready money which had been handed over to him had -been expended--he had even the possibility of debts to face. - -For himself he did not care--he had had his sporting chance and fate -had been against him. The world would say that there was another -young spendthrift gone under; his father and his brothers, not -knowing the truth, would have some excuse for pointing the finger of -scorn at him; but these things troubled him little. He would fight -for himself, as he had meant to fight before he had known of Royce's -bequest. - -If it were not for Rada--Rada whom he loved so passionately! How -could he ask her to share his poverty? The thing was impossible--he -had realised the impossibility of it for some weeks past--just as the -truth of her love for him was filtering into his brain. How -tragically ironical it all was! - -"Asmodeus won't win the Guineas," he muttered to himself, -disconsolately enough, since there was none present before whom he -must keep up the farce of cheerfulness. "And as for the filly, she -is quite hopeless. So what remains? Only the Derby, and that I -should have to fight out against Rada. I don't know that I would win -it from her, even if I could. But I can't, so there's an end of it. -There's an end to everything, so far as I can see--to fortune, to -ambition, to love--yes, jolly well an end to everything. That's what -I see in the future." - -He could see no brighter picture by staring into the dying fire, and -presently he rose with a sigh and a yawn, preparatory to making his -way upstairs to bed. It was at that moment that he heard the front -door bell ring, and a minute or so later the sedate Frazer put in an -appearance and announced that there was a man, who had not given his -name but who looked like a stable-man, who wished to see Mostyn upon -urgent business. - -"It's not Stanhope, Frazer?" asked Mostyn anxiously. - -"No, sir," Frazer shook his head decidedly; he knew Stanhope by sight -quite well. "I've not seen the fellow before," he added. "He's -never been to the house, I'm quite sure of that." - -"Show him in here, Frazer," Mostyn commanded. "I'll see him, whoever -he is." - -Accordingly, after a brief interval, the stranger was admitted. He -stood in the doorway fidgetting from one foot to the other, his cap -in his hand, his tightly-fitting coat buttoned close over his chest. -The buttons were big and flashy; the man's general appearance--his -expression as well as his attire--was unprepossessing. - -Mostyn recognised him at once, and wondered what on earth he had come -for. He waited, however, till Frazer had withdrawn, till the door -was closed upon them both. - -"You are Wilson," he said then, "Ted Wilson, the jockey. Why do you -want to see me, and at this hour of the night?" - -"I couldn't come afore, sir," Wilson shifted from one foot to the -other in an undecided sort of manner. He had little twinkling eyes, -and sandy hair brushed over his forehead in a carefully oiled curl. -He had yellow teeth, which protruded like a rabbit's, and a weak, -receding chin; he was a clever jockey, which is about as much as -could be said in his favour. - -"I couldn't come afore becos the guv'nor wouldn't let me out of his -sight. He's a jolly sharp 'un, is David Isaacson, I give you my -word." - -"Well, what's your object in coming to see me?" repeated Mostyn -rather sharply. He neither liked the man himself, nor did he care -for this intercourse with one of the servants of his rival. - -Wilson took a few steps forward into the room and seated himself, -without being invited to do so, upon the very edge of the most -unpretentious-looking chair that he could pick out. "I want a word -with you, private like," he said in a hoarse, throaty voice. His -eyes rested nervously upon the spirit tantalus in its place on the -sideboard. He had, perhaps wittingly, seated himself in close -proximity to it. - -"I've walked across from the Crathorn Stables," he said pleadingly, -"an' I can tell you it's dry work." The Crathorn Stables were those -at which Don Quixote had been lodged, and they were distant, as -Mostyn knew, a good half-dozen miles in the direction of Newmarket. - -"You can help yourself. You'll find a tumbler close beside you, and -there's whisky in the stand." The jockey did not await a second -invitation, but helped himself largely to the spirit, adding to it a -very small quantity of water. - -"That's better," he said, as he tossed off the spirit. "Now we can -tork." - -"I'm waiting," said Mostyn drily. - -"Well, it's like this," said the jockey, fixing his little eyes upon -Mostyn as though attempting to read his thoughts. "I've had a row -with the guv'nor; he's a rotter, that's wot he is!" He paused -meaningly. - -Mostyn gave him no assistance. "Well?" was all he said. - -"A rotter," repeated Wilson, "a low-down, measly Jew. I've never -ridden for a Jew afore, an' I'm sorry I consented to this time." - -"Well?" repeated Mostyn. - -"Carn't you see wot I'm drivin' at, Mr. Clithero? Carn't you help a -chap a bit?" protested Wilson, who thought that the object of his -visit should have been guessed at once. - -"Hadn't you better speak clearly, and come to the point?" suggested -Mostyn, who had a pretty shrewd idea of what was about to be proposed -to him. - -Wilson accordingly made the plunge. "Don Quixote is goin' to win the -Two Thousand," he said. "Asmodeus ain't. There's no getting round -that to us as knows; that is, of course, if all goes normal like. -Well, Mr. Clithero, sir, I guess you want to win this race, and -that's why I've come to you, Mr. Clithero, sir." - -Mostyn hated the constant repetition of his name, and he was boiling -over with indignation at the suggestion made to him, though he kept -his features under control, and allowed the little man to have his -say. - -To the jockey it seemed that the owner of Asmodeus must be -particularly dense. He did not like to put his proposition into -plain words. What was the necessity for it? - -"Between man and man who understand each other," he began, "these -little things can be arranged, you know." He rose from his chair, -putting his empty glass aside, and sidled nearer to Mostyn. "I'm -ready to strike a bargain with you, Mr. Clithero, sir, if so be ye're -willing. It needn't be such a dead cert for Don Quixote, after all." -Mostyn sat silent, staring straight before him, though he kept one -elbow well out in order to prevent Wilson coming too near. Of -course, he knew quite well what was meant--had understood all the -time. This little rogue was willing to pull Don Quixote for a -consideration--a consideration which, though no doubt it would be -heavy, Mostyn was quite capable of providing, and, as far as he was -concerned, there was no actual danger. If any objection were raised -to the riding--which was most unlikely, for Wilson was clever at that -sort of thing--it would all be put down to a manoeuvre on the part of -Isaacson, or to spite on the part of the jockey--as far as Mostyn was -concerned, it didn't matter which. - -The boy's face was burning, the blood coursing quickly through his -veins, his heart beating quickly. A few moments ago, when he had -first realised what was being proposed to him, his inclination had -been to get up, to take the jockey by the scruff of his neck, and -throw him out without more ado; then, suddenly, and as if someone had -whispered in his ear, a temptation, such as he had never known before -in his life, had come upon him. - -There was so much at stake for him--so vast a sum of money, which -seemed about to slip through his fingers. And there was Rada, too. -If Asmodeus should win this race, why, all might still be well. He -would not be a beggar in another month's time, and then, what was -there to prevent him going to Rada and saying: "You love me--you -don't love Jack Treves--I want you, Rada, and mean to have you!" He -was sure--at that moment--that she would fall into his arms, and that -he had only to speak. All this--success, wealth, love--might be his, -if Asmodeus won. At that moment, sharper than ever, he felt the -bitter sting of defeat. "There is no other way," whispered the -insinuating voice in his ear. "You'd much better accept a good offer -when it's made to you." - -"It's a fair deal I'm proposin' to you, Mr. Clithero, sir," muttered -the jockey, his voice seeming to harmonise and blend with that of the -imaginary tempter. "I can do it easy as easy, and who wants a -beastly Jew to win? You can back Asmodeus for all you like--put your -shirt on 'im--for if we get to understand each other he's bound to -win, there ain't another horse in the race. It'll be worth your -while, I tell you that straight." - -Perhaps, all unconsciously, the jockey had made a mistake when he -spoke of making money upon the horse's victory, which was the last -thing that Mostyn, who never made a bet, cared about doing. In some -insidious fashion, this new suggestion touched a cord in the boy's -nature and made him realise the peril in which he stood. He, who had -never in his life done an act which he could call dishonourable, what -was he thinking of now? How could he have allowed himself, even for -a moment, to listen to so vile a suggestion? His cheeks flushed with -shame. With a mighty effort he thrust the temptation aside. He -smote the table violently with his fist, and broke out with an -oath--an oath that came strangely to his lips. - -"D---- you, you dirty hound!" He pushed his chair bark, and stood -trembling with wrath, towering huge over the wretched little man. -"How dare you come to me with such a proposal? How dare you? how -dare you? Get out of the room, and out of the house, and be sharp -about it, or before God----" He raised his fist threateningly. - -The little jockey slipped from his chair, nearly sliding on to the -floor in his dismay, and held up his puny fists as if to ward off a -blow. "Look 'ere, Mr. Clithero, sir," he whined, "what are you -a-gettin' at? I came 'ere as a friend--for your good." - -"Go!" thundered Mostyn, pointing a trembling forefinger at the door. -"I told you to go." - -"Very well, I'm goin'." The jockey, seeing that he stood in no -danger of bodily hurt, pulled himself together and shuffled towards -the door. "You ain't treated me fair, Mr. Clithero," he grumbled, as -he went. His little eyes shot malice. He muttered something else -under his breath--a remark that was evidently not intended for -Mostyn's ears; nor did the latter, who had turned to ring the bell -for Frazer, notice the clenched fists or the vindictive look. - -At the door the jockey halted once more. "Look 'ere," he growled, -"you're not a-goin' to say anythin' about this? I trust you as a -gentleman." - -"You may cheat your master, for all I care," said Mostyn, "as long as -you don't do it for me. That's his own look out, not mine, but -remember that I have nothing to do with you or with your dirty -tricks. Now go!" Once more he pointed to the door, and the next -moment, mouthing an ugly word under his breath, the jockey was gone. - -As for Mostyn, he stood for a moment, breathing hard, his teeth -tightly clenched together; then he threw himself down upon a chair, -leaning his elbows upon the table, and pressing his hands to his -forehead. - -"My God!" he muttered to himself, "and there was a moment when I -might have yielded!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -MOSTYN IS GIVEN ANOTHER CHANCE. - -The following morning Pierce Trelawny appeared at breakfast with a -pale face and a look of determination about his lips. - -Mostyn, who was already seated at the table, glanced up, mystified at -his friend's unwonted appearance. - -"What's wrong, old chap?" he asked. "You look worried." - -Pierce poured himself out a cup of coffee before he responded, Mostyn -watching him the while with increasing anxiety. "You haven't got bad -news, have you?" he asked. - -"It's about Cicely," Pierce explained at last. There was a heavy -frown upon his brow. "Look here, Mostyn, I can't stand this sort of -thing any longer--something has got to be done. Cicely has written -to me. Oh, it's the first letter she has written." He laughed -hoarsely. "We have kept to our promise right enough up till now, but -matters have come to a crisis." - -"Tell me," said Mostyn, drawing his chair nearer to that of his -friend with that display of sympathy which was with him so charming a -characteristic. "But I can guess," he added with a melancholy shake -of the head. "Cicely finds it impossible to get on at home, even for -the month or two that remain." - -"That's just it," said Pierce, tossing the letter over to his friend. -"Read what she says for yourself. It makes one's blood boil, that -any girl can be treated in such a fashion, and I tell you I've made -up my mind to take matters into my own hands." - -Mostyn read the letter through carefully, the frown deepening on his -brow as he came to the end. Cicely had penned the epistle under the -stress of deep emotion, and the page was blotted here and there where -her tears had fallen upon it. The gist of her letter was that she -could stay no longer at home--that her father's insults and cruelty -had become unbearable--that he had even raised his hand against her. -It was in her very misery of spirit that she had at last yielded to -the temptation to write to Pierce, whom she loved so utterly, so -devotedly. She had been seized by a terrible fear, too, a fear which -had haunted her for weeks and months, that his love for her was on -the wane; she could bear it no longer, and so in her misery she had -broken her promise. Would he come to her? The request was repeated -over and over again, in the course of the letter. She wanted his -comfort--his support--his kiss--and if she were denied these any -longer, she feared her health would break down. - -"I'm going to her--I'm going to her to-day!" Pierce rose from the -table, having swallowed his coffee almost at a gulp, and eaten -nothing. He pushed his chair back viciously and began parading the -room with long, angry strides. "I'm not going to be kept from Cicely -another day, and I don't care a hang what my father, or anybody else, -may do. It was a shame--an infernal shame--to keep us apart, and -I've suffered more than you can guess, Mostyn. We love each other, -and what do you think it has been to me to know that she has been -left with that infernal old---- I beg your pardon, Mostyn," he added -hastily, "but I'm so upset I hardly know what I'm saying." - -"Why shouldn't Cicely come to me?" suggested Mostyn, who was trying -to keep his head cool. "She could stay here at the Grange till after -her twenty-first birthday. Wouldn't that satisfy your father?" - -Pierce wheeled round sharply and indignantly. "And I not see her all -the time," he exclaimed, "just because of a silly fad of a silly old -man! And how could you and I go about together, Mostyn, if she were -with you? No, that won't do either. I've made up my mind. I'm -going straight to London; yes, to-day, in spite of the race, in spite -of everything, and I'm going to beard the lion in his den. I'm going -to take Cicely out of his clutches--carry her off by force if needs -be. She can stay with my aunt, Lady Fenton, who knows her and is -fond of her, and who will do anything for me. Cicely shall stay -there till we can be married, and that shall be just as soon as ever -I can get the licence." - -"But the Squire--your father?" protested Mostyn. - -"He must do as he pleases," was the tempestuous reply. "I'm not -going to worry myself about him. He can cut me off if he likes, just -as yours did you. I've got a little money of my own, thank God! -enough to live on quietly somewhere in the suburbs." He made a wry -face as he spoke. "It'll be a bit of a change, but I shall have to -lump that, and I daresay Cicely won't mind. There, Mostyn, old -chap"--he came and stood by his friend's side--"You must forgive me -if I'm excited, but you can see how it is and understand what I feel. -I'm sorry that I shan't be with you at the races, but I should be a -shockingly poor companion for you if I were. I can't be of any -service, either, there's that at least to be said." - -And so at last matters were settled, though it was not without -further parley. Mostyn succeeded in calming his friend after a -while, and they sat down together and talked the matter out seriously -and reasonably. Their deliberations, however, brought them to no new -conclusion. Pierce's mind was made up, and he was quite prepared to -defy his father and to bear the consequences. - -"You'll come for the wedding, Mostyn, won't you?" he asked, when the -sitting came to an end. "It'll have to be an absolutely quiet -affair. Lady Fenton and yourself will be the only two to be present. -Cicely will be my wife long before Cipher wins the Derby for you." - -"I can quite believe that," commented Mostyn drily, though he -understood the sense in which the remark had been intended. "Anyway, -Pierce, I wish you luck, and I'm glad that you are going to do -something to make Cicely happy." - -Thus it came about that, later that day, Mostyn found himself without -his friend in the paddock of the Newmarket racecourse. He missed -Pierce badly, for this was the first time that they had not been -together when one of the races in which they were interested had been -decided. - -There were, however, many faces that he knew. Rada and Captain -Armitage had been driven over by Jack Treves. The latter had been -settled at Partinborough for the last month or two, and had done his -best to monopolise Rada. He had not intruded his company upon -Mostyn, though, of course, it was inevitable that the two men should -meet now and then. On these occasions Jack was surly, his malice but -thinly veiled. Of Rada herself Mostyn had lately seen but little. A -sense of restraint had arisen between them, and half instinctively -they had avoided each other. But now she came to his side, and -slipped a little soft hand into his. Just as soft as the hand were -the dark eyes he looked into, the smile that played about her lips, -and the tone in which she addressed him. - -"I do hope you'll win to-day, Mostyn," she murmured. "Asmodeus is a -fine horse, and should make a fight for it. At any rate I wish you -success, I do indeed." - -There was something in the girl's expression, something beyond the -softness and tenderness which he had already noticed, that made -Mostyn scrutinise her face more carefully. There were black rims -under her eyes, and he could have sworn that she had been crying and -that quite recently. - -He felt instinctively, too, that in this gentleness of demeanour, so -unusual to the wayward girl, there was something of appeal, and of -appeal directed to himself. It was as though she wanted him to -understand more than she dared say. - -He looked down pitifully into the girl's dark eyes. "Rada," he -whispered, "you are not happy. I have been certain of it for a long -time. Will you tell me what has happened? Oh"--he hesitated--"is it -because----" - -"Oh! I wish I could speak to you," she sighed. "I've wanted to ever -so many times." She hung her head, evidently struggling with her -pride. "Oh, you don't know," she cried at last, clasping her hands -together, "what it has been like for me! There is no one that I can -talk to--no one who can sympathise with me." - -"Why not have come to me?" asked Mostyn reproachfully. "Are we not -good friends?" - -"Good friends, yes!" Her words were bitter. "But that it must be -you to whom I have to come and admit that I have been a silly little -fool--oh! the silliest little donkey ever born! Don't you understand -how it hurts me--how it lowers me in my own eyes?" - -"Never mind that," said Mostyn pitifully. "You poor little thing, -don't you think that after all this time I have got to know you -better, and that I can make allowance for your whims and all those -wayward tricks of yours? Tell me the truth, Rada." He trembled as -he spoke, for he felt that he had no right to put the question since -Rada could not be for him. "You don't love Jack Treves; you don't -want to marry him?" - -Rada shook her head, and then fixed her eyes upon her race-card as -though she were intensely interested in it. These two, who were -talking of matters of such vital interest to them both, stood there -in the midst of the pushing throng of the paddock. They spoke in -lowered tones, and now and again, when anyone passed close to them or -came to a halt by the railing where they stood, Mostyn would make -some remark in a louder voice in order to make it appear that they -were merely discussing the races. - -"He has been a brute to me," she murmured, "a brute. Just now, -driving to the course, he insulted me; he--he made me cry. Love -him?" She stamped her little foot. "I hate him!" This time the -words were genuine; they came from her heart. - -"And it was all because of that wretched thousand pounds, and because -of your pride. Oh, Rada! Rada! But it isn't too late," he went on. -"Thank God for that. You are not bound to the man." Though he -himself could never ask her to be his wife, Mostyn reflected quickly, -yet she was not obliged to marry that scamp, that bounder, Jack. - -"I'm not sure that he wants to marry me." She sighed wearily. "He's -always comparing me to Daisy Simpson--think of that! He says she's -so much smarter than I. But it's his father and my father who insist -that we shall be married. Old Mr. Treves wants his son to marry a -lady, you see, and my father--well, you know it's a question of money -with him. Far more has been borrowed than we can ever repay." She -flushed as she made the admission. - -"I only know that you mustn't marry a man you don't love!" cried -Mostyn heatedly. "Surely the money can be found. Castor will bring -you in enough if he wins the Derby. Then there's that thousand -pounds you paid me: I've never touched the wretched notes. They're -still lying at the Grange in my safe-- - -"No, no, no!" interrupted Rada. "I couldn't accept any money from -you; indeed I couldn't, not a single penny. I should never forgive -myself, and it would be worse than the other. No," she repeated -despairingly, "there is no help for it." She paused, then broke into -a laugh that grated upon Mostyn's ears. "What does it matter after -all?" She was choking down a sob. "There's no one who cares what -becomes of me; it doesn't matter a scrap to anyone if I marry Jack or -not----" - -Mostyn clenched his fists. "You're wrong, Rada," he said with all -the energy he could express. "I care. The fellow's not worthy of -you. Besides, he's a bounder and a scamp----" - -"Who's a bounder and a scamp?" Mostyn looked up quickly and Rada -gave a little cry, for Jack Treves, who had approached unseen by -either of them, was standing close by. He took Rada viciously by the -arm; then turned scowling upon Mostyn. "Who's a scamp," he repeated, -"and what were you two talking about?" - -"It was nothing, Jack, nothing!" gasped Rada. "Mr. Clithero and -I----" - -"I've had enough of Mr. Clithero and you," said Jack roughly. "The -sooner you both understand that, the better. I'm sick of Clithero -hanging about you and making mischief between us. I'd lay any odds -that's what he was doing when I came up." He turned again sharply -upon Mostyn. "Who is the scamp you were talking about?" he asked -again aggressively. - -"You!" replied Mostyn with fine nonchalance. "I was talking about -you. I just said what I thought." - -Jack Treves took a step forward, his fists clenched. His face was -purple and congested. But no blow fell; he had had his experience, -and did not wish to repeat it. - -Already the little scene had attracted some attention, although it -was only among the immediate bystanders. But these, if they expected -a fight, were doomed to disappointment. Jack stood scowling, then -muttering "This isn't the place for a scrap; but I'll be even with -you, for God I will!" he slipped his hand under Rada's arm and -unceremoniously bustled her away. - -The onlookers, robbed of their fun, growled disapproval and dispersed -likewise. One of them, however, whom Mostyn had not noticed before, -since he had kept himself well in the background, remained. Mostyn -recognised the evil and malicious face of the jockey, Ted Wilson. - -The little man was dressed as Mostyn had seen him the night before. -He wore the same tightly-fitting covert coat with big shiny pearl -buttons, but he had replaced the cap by a bowler hat, pressed down -well on the back of his head. - -"I wish 'e'd gone for yer!" Wilson muttered between his teeth, -drawing a few steps nearer. "I wish 'e'd thrashed yer, Gawd 'elp me -I do!" - -This was a fresh attack, and one which Mostyn had not expected. He -supposed the jockey was still incensed because his proposition had -been refused, and, not desiring any further discussion on the -subject, he turned away without deigning a reply. Wilson, however, -followed at his heels, yapping and snarling like a mongrel cur. "A -low down trick you played me," he muttered. "What did you want to do -it for? The Lord knows I 'aven't done you no 'arm. But to give a -chap away and get 'im the sack--why, you ought to be bloomin' well -ashamed of yerself!" - -Mostyn turned at this. "What on earth do you mean?" he asked. - -"Why," screeched the indignant little man, "just listen to 'im! As -if 'e didn't know! Wot should I 'av got the sack for if you 'adn't -split to my boss? Given me the chuck without a word of explanation, -'e 'as, and not more'n a couple of hours ago. Why should 'e 'ave -done it if you 'adn't rounded on me? D---- 'im for a dirty Jew! and -d---- you too for----" - -The jockey's language was charged with strange oaths, and there was a -lurid monotony about his epithets. However, he appeared to have a -grievance, and that being so, some explanation seemed due to him. -The refinement of Mostyn's speech sounded almost ridiculous when -taken in conjunction with that of the jockey. - -"I assure you that you are absolutely mistaken if you think that I -have had anything to do with your discharge, since I understand that -you have been discharged. This is the first I have heard of it, and -I have not the smallest idea why Mr. Isaacson should have acted so." - -"You're a liar!" retorted Wilson. "Is it likely that Isaacson would -have sacked me, an' put up a chap like Jones, who may lose the race -for 'im, if 'e 'adn't thought that I might ride crook? Do yer think -I don't see through yer little game?" His narrow eyes sparkled with -spite and malice as he stared up into Mostyn's face. "Got me the -chuck, yer did, so that Don Quixote might be handicapped and yer own -'orse 'ave a better charnce! Oh, you're a sharp 'un, you are, but, -strike me pink! I'll be even with yer for it, Mr. Clithero, sir, if -not to-day, then some other time. Ted Wilson ain't the man not to -get a bit of 'is own back, you can bet your bottom dollar on that. -My friend, Jack Treves"--he accented the words--"'as got 'is knife -into yer, too, I see, and between the pair of us I'll lay you come -off bad in the end." - -He had been speaking so volubly that Mostyn had not been able to get -a word in. Now, once more, and with all the patience he could -muster, he sought to convince the angry jockey that he was quite -innocent of the offence with which he was charged. But argument was -futile, as he quickly found out. Wilson was convinced that he had -Mostyn to thank for what had happened. - -It was some time before Mostyn could throw off his adversary, and it -was only with renewed threats of vengeance, and because he saw no -less a person than Mr. Isaacson himself approaching, in the company -of Sir Roderick Macphane, that Wilson at last took himself off, and -disappeared in the direction of the nearest bar. - -Mostyn reflected that he had another enemy to contend with, and one -who was even more likely than Jack Treves to hit below the belt. -Luckily, Asmodeus was quite safe in the charge of Stanhope, and -Mostyn could not conceive of any other way by which he could be -damaged; this since he was not afraid of personal attack. He did not -worry himself, therefore, when, later in the day, he saw Wilson in -the company of Jack, and realised that the jockey had spoken the -truth when he mentioned Treves as his friend. - -Mostyn looked up in response to a hearty slap on the back, and found -himself confronted by the smiling face of Sir Roderick Macphane. It -was a pleasure after the scowls with which he had been met that day -to look upon the genial face of the old baronet. Behind Sir Roderick -stood a tall man, of Jewish cast of features, whom Mostyn recognised -at once, though he had never met the man, as David Isaacson, the -owner of Don Quixote. - -"Mr. Isaacson wished to be introduced to you, Mostyn," Sir Roderick -said, "and so, as I caught sight of you ten minutes ago, I brought -him up. You are opponents to-day, of course, but that's no reason -why two sportsmen shouldn't know each other. I won't wish good luck -to the best man," he added heartily, "but to the best horse, and as -matters stand, it promises to be a good race." - -The Jew extended his hand to Mostyn and smiled, showing a straight -row of white teeth. He was not ill-looking, and there was very -little to suggest the hardness with which he had been accredited as a -money-lender. It was a little surprising to find him on such good -terms with Sir Roderick, but then "Old Rory" was "hail fellow well -met" with all the world. - -"It's even money on the horses," Isaacson remarked; "I don't suppose -one stands a better chance than the other." He turned to Mostyn, -scrutinising him rather closely. His voice was not unpleasant, -though it possessed the Jewish rasp. "You know, of course," he -continued, "that I had to dismiss my jockey, Wilson, at a moment's -notice this morning, and that I've put up Jones in his place. Jones -is a smart man, but, of course, the handicap is a pretty severe one. -You see, Mr. Clithero, I have reasons to believe that Wilson wished -to pull my horse so that yours might win. I got my knowledge in -rather a roundabout way. It appears that someone has backed Asmodeus -pretty heavily, and when this person found that Don Quixote was the -favourite he approached Wilson and offered to pay him to pull the -horse. I understand that Wilson had consented to do so; so, as you -may imagine, I fired him this morning, and I shall probably place the -whole matter before the stewards. It was the intermediary who acted -between the backer and Wilson who gave the story away to one of my -own men, and that's how it came out. It's bad luck on me," he added, -"but I shan't grudge you the race, Mr. Clithero, if luck comes your -way." - -Mostyn saw how it was. "The little skunk!" he muttered to himself as -he thought of Wilson. "He was going to pull the horse whatever -happened, but thought he might make a bit more out of me at the same -time. But he over-reached himself, and has been given away by one of -his pals. And he'll never believe that I didn't betray him; he'll -loathe me none the less if the truth comes out." - -Sir Roderick had a luncheon party that day, holding, as usual, open -house to all the friends he might happen to meet. Here, among -smiling, happy faces, Mostyn forgot some of his troubles of the -morning; moreover, he was keenly excited about the race, for it -seemed, indeed, that Asmodeus stood an excellent chance of winning. -Don Quixote had naturally gone down in the betting. - -Sir Roderick was keenly interested, and discussed the whole matter -with the young man. - -"By Jove! Mostyn," he opined, "you've got to win this time, or I -don't know how you'll pocket your cash. Cipher's not going to win -the Derby for you, you know"--he shook his head -prophetically--"Cipher can't get away from Castor, to say nothing of -my Pollux." - -To this Mostyn agreed. He knew that it was true. Castor and Pollux -were the two colts who gave real promise for the coming Derby. They -had never met, and yet they were both unbeaten, each holding a record -of some half-dozen victories in the course of the year. - -"Jove! what an extraordinary Derby it'll be," Mostyn commented, -trying to distract his thoughts from the excitement of the moment. -"Two horses, Castor and Pollux, so exactly alike, as I understand -them to be, both having the same sire, both boasting similar records, -and not a line to go upon to show which is the better! It'll be a -Derby worth seeing, Sir Roderick." - -The baronet agreed. Nevertheless, as was only to be expected, he -favoured his own horse. "Not that I care so much about winning," he -observed with his broad, genial smile. "One Derby should be enough -for any man. Hipponous pulled that off for me as well as the Leger. -I'm far keener now," he added bluffly, "upon trying to drive sense -into the noddles of all those Socialists, Radicals, Home Rulers, and -agitators that grow up like weeds about us. A lot of disloyal -fellows who are so blind that they can't hear sense when it's talked -to them. They simply don't know upon which side their bread is -feathered, and they are only playing to butter their own nests!" - -It was a muddled metaphor worthy of "Old Rory" at his best. Mostyn -could not refrain from laughing, as did Sir Roderick himself when he -realised what he had said. He always roared over his own tangled -speeches, even in Parliament, enjoying them quite as much as anyone -else. - -He had certainly been very much to the fore at Westminster of late, -and his wild attacks upon the Government had added much to the -enlivenment of a dull session. Yet "Old Rory" was more popular than -ever, and that with all parties in the House. - -Time passed pleasantly enough till the bell rang and the course was -cleared for the big race. Mostyn remained in the paddock till -Asmodeus, a fine bay, long of limb and strong of barrel, strode -proudly out and was greeted by a cheer from the crowd as he galloped -easily past the Grand Stand. - -The puce and black diamonds of Mostyn's colours were quickly put in -the shade by an aggressive vision of gold as Asmodeus was followed by -Don Quixote, and now the crowd cheered again, though in a minor key. -The horse had been heavily backed, and there was no little discontent -at the fall in his price that morning; people were asking each other -the reason for the sudden change of jockey. Isaacson was unpopular, -and there was considerable prejudice against him, wholly without -reason; whereas Mostyn, who in barely a year had become so prominent -a figure upon racecourses, stood high in popular favour. - -"It's a match between you and me, Clithero," Isaacson said as the two -men took up their places to watch the race. "They're off," he added -a moment later, levelling his glasses. "A good start, what?" - -Mostyn remembered little of that race. He stood, indeed, his -field-glasses raised, to all outward appearance as calm and placid as -Isaacson himself. He followed the horses as they ran, he marked the -failure of Bouncing Boy, he even commented upon the riding of the -jockey who was up on Wisdom, a chestnut heavily backed for a place, -and who was palpably giving the horse his head over much; but all the -while he was staring through a mist: it was as though a fog had -settled over the course, a fog which his eyes could penetrate but -which made everything appear contorted, disproportionate, ridiculous. -Somehow the thought came to him of that face which he had seen -peering through the window at the Grange; every object he looked upon -was disfigured in just the same way. There were men and women close -by at whom he could have laughed, so absurd did they appear. And all -the while there was a great thumping going on in his ears like the -working of a vast machine; it was so loud that he could hardly hear -the shouting of the crowd. - -Asmodeus was leading; he knew that. Asmodeus had been leading for -quite a long time. Don Quixote, with his glitter of gold, was -several lengths behind, and there were two or three horses in -between. Which were they? Mostyn tried to distinguish them but -failed. What did it matter? Asmodeus was leading. - -Suddenly the thumping that was the beating of his heart stopped. It -was like the sudden cessation of work in a factory or the stopping of -the engines on board a steamer. Mostyn swayed a little from side to -side; he could imagine the rolling of a vessel. Asmodeus was no -longer in the front. What did that matter? Stanhope was holding him -in. There was time enough yet for a spurt. - -There was a cold wind blowing that afternoon, and the sky was grey. -A drizzling rain began to fall. Here and there umbrellas made their -appearance till angry protests from the crowd compelled them to be -lowered. Mostyn noticed all these minor events through the mist that -rendered everything so grotesque to his view. - -The horses were near by now, very near. They had swung round the -bend and were nearly level with the Grand Stand. Asmodeus had -dropped still further behind; there were several of his opponents who -had caught up and passed him. The glitter of gold was to the fore. -Don Quixote led. - -How the crowd was roaring! As a rule this was music to Mostyn's -ears, but to-day it was a fantastic discord. He could distinguish -nothing, not a single articulate word. Why on earth did not Stanhope -spurt? Surely, surely he was waiting too long? - -Mostyn's brow was wet. He did not know if this was due to -perspiration or to the rain; he could not say if he felt hot or cold. -This was his last chance--literally his last chance--and still that -spurt was delayed. - -Ah! Stanhope is giving Asmodeus his head now! "Come on, -Asmodeus--brave horse!--for the love of heaven, come!" The chestnut -is passed; that is good: now another is held and left behind; now -another. Asmodeus has forged into the second place, but the -winning-post is close at hand, and Don Quixote of the maddening, -aggressive gold is still foremost. Curse the gold! - -It was a brave effort, but it failed, for Don Quixote, too, was -capable of a spurt. All but overhauled, the horse seemed to gather -his whole strength into that supreme moment. Once more he shot -ahead--yellow, huge and grotesque to Mostyn's eyes--and passed the -winning-post just a palpable length ahead. - -It was over: Mostyn had played and lost! - -He descended from the chair upon which he had been standing, quite -forgetting that Isaacson was by his side, and strolled away. The -rain beat in his face, his cheeks were dripping with moisture, but it -did not occur to him to put up his umbrella. Now and then he -collided with someone in the crowd and muttered an apology without -looking round. - -A heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder. He recognised the voice of -Sir Roderick. - -"Mostyn, my boy, this is a knock. I didn't expect it. With Jones up -on Don Quixote I thought Asmodeus would win. But look here; you -mustn't give in. I've got a plan for you: it isn't a cert, but it'll -give you a sporting chance. Now, understand, I'll take no denial. -Pollux shall run for you in the Derby--and Pollux is as good a horse -as Castor. Come along and we'll talk it over." - -He led Mostyn away. The latter was still too dazed to understand -clearly what had been said to him. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -MOSTYN MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. - -It was early afternoon of the first day of the Epsom Summer Meeting. -Mostyn had just finished lunch, of which he had partaken in the -solitude of his Jermyn Street chambers. He had not been tempted down -to Epsom that day, for he had had a hard week's work, and he wished -to keep all his strength in reserve for the morrow, the great Derby -Day that was to decide his fate. - -Pollux, of course, was at Epsom, in the charge of Joseph Dean, the -trainer who had had the care of him from the first. Pollux was to be -ridden by Fred Martin, now completely recovered, who, upon this -occasion, would sport the puce and black of Mostyn's colours instead -of the scarlet and silver of Sir Roderick's. - -Never, perhaps, in the history of the great race had so much popular -interest been aroused. There was no first favourite, but, instead, -there were two horses who would both go to the post with unbroken -records, and between which, upon form, there was not a line to -choose. As a result, the two horses naturally stood even in the -betting; it was two to one against either of them, and there was a -considerable drop between this and the betting upon the next horse, -Pendragon, who was third in popular estimation. - -Then, not only did Castor and Pollux stand level in the betting, but -the similarity of the two animals, even their names, which betokened -kinship, could not fail to arouse interest. Those who had seen them -together at Epsom--now that they had actually met for the first -time--reported them as being so exactly alike that they could hardly -be recognised apart. They were both tall, black horses, and there -was nothing to choose between them as regarded height or breadth or -muscle. - -Perhaps, just as much as the horses, the owners excited attention. -Castor was the property of a girl, and one so young as to seem -totally out of place in the racing world. Pollux, which everyone -knew to have belonged to popular and genial "Old Rory," had been -suddenly transferred, little more than three weeks ago, to Mostyn -Clithero, that meteoric young man whose prowess upon the race-course -was so remarkable, and who had been buying horses wildly and madly -all over the country, and who seemed bent, for no explicable reason, -upon making a name for himself upon the Turf. - -Mostyn sat musing over the events of the past few weeks, as well as -on those which were still concealed by the obscurity of the future. -Whatever the result might be, at least this could be said--he had had -his sporting chance, and he had taken it like a sportsman. If he -failed, it was through the chance of war, not through any fault of -his. The morrow might see him a vastly wealthy man or a pauper. Had -it not been for Sir Roderick, there would have been no doubt as to -the issue weeks ago, for Mostyn had indeed lost his last chance when -Asmodeus failed for the Guineas. It had taken all the kind-hearted -baronet's eloquence, as it was, to induce Mostyn to accept Pollux, -and in the end the young man would only yield by striking a -particularly hard bargain for himself in the event of the colt -winning. "Old Rory" had been forced to take up a selfish line. -"Heavenly powers, lad!" he had cried at last, testily, "aren't your -millions worth more than the blessed Derby stakes?" And Mostyn had -been constrained to see it in this light. - -The worst of it was that he was thrown into such direct antagonism to -Rada. The race lay between him and her--there was no doubt about -that. - -He would have liked to tell her the whole truth, so that she should -not misunderstand his motives, as she was bound to do. But it was -impossible for him to speak now--for the girl's own sake he saw that -it was impossible. To win the Derby with Castor was her dream, her -ambition, the one thing she asked of life. Why should he make her -unhappy, as she was bound to be if she knew how great a loss he would -suffer from her success? She could not help him in any way--she -could not scratch Castor even if she wished to do so--there was far -too much money already involved upon the colt. - -Of course, she had misunderstood, "So you have bought Pollux!" she -had cried. "It makes no difference to my chances, of course, but I -didn't think that you"--there was a world of reproach in her -tone--"would have fought me to the end. I shall hate you if Pollux -wins--I shall really hate you." There was something of the old -defiance in her tone. - -"Rada," he had said, striving hard to give her a hint, "remember our -wager. It was your life or my life. If Pollux wins----" If Pollux -won, he could claim his reward, he could ask Rada to marry him; if -Pollux failed, she was lost to him for ever--he would be a beggar. - -But Rada interrupted him. She would not understand. She bit her lip -and stamped her foot. "So you are still thinking of that foolish -challenge?" she cried. "You are still fighting to win a Derby before -me? I think you are mean, mean and cowardly. I--I----" She had -broken off and run away from him, but he was certain that there were -tears in her eyes, and he had hated himself for the pain he gave her. -But there was nothing to be done. He must wait, bear her disdain, -till after the Derby, and then if Pollux won he could explain. If -Pollux lost, why, then, everything must go. It didn't matter. - -He left for London the next day, and did not see Rada again. But he -was bound to meet her at Epsom--he thought of the meeting with -mingled feelings. - -It was as he mused thus, that visitors, who turned out to be Pierce -and Cicely, were announced. They had been married now for some three -weeks, and they had but just returned to London from a visit which -they had been paying to Pierce's father in Worcestershire. They had -gone down in fear and trepidation as to the manner in which they -would be received by the bluff and rather choleric old squire. - -The latter had made no sign when the news reached him of his son's -intention to disobey the strict injunctions laid upon him. The -marriage had taken place just as Pierce had schemed it out, and the -two young people had gone to Paris for a brief honeymoon. While -there, Pierce had received a summons, worded with characteristic -brevity, to return to England with his wife, and to present himself -at the parental domain. So much Mostyn knew; of the result of their -visit he had not yet heard a word. - -Evidently nothing very tragic had occurred, for Pierce and Cicely -entered laughing, and palpably in the best of spirits. Mostyn kissed -his sister affectionately; she looked charming as a young bride, and -there was colour in her cheeks such as he had not seen there for many -a long day. Pierce, too, scrupulously dressed as ever, seemed -particularly well satisfied with himself and with the world at large. - -"Well, how is it?" asked Mostyn. "Have you been forgiven and taken -back to the fold?" - -Pierce sank down into a chair, his sides shaking with laughter. "You -will hardly believe it, Mostyn," he said as soon as he could find his -breath, "but the sly old boy was having a joke with me all the time! -He wanted me to run off with Cicely against his express will. He -wanted to see if I would have the pluck to do it! Think of -that--there's a facetious old sportsman for you! You remember how he -threatened me, how he gave me to understand that all sorts of -penalties would fall upon my unhappy head if I disobeyed him; of -course, I imagined that I should be cut off with the proverbial -shilling, and all the rest of it, and the old chap knew that I would -think so. All the time he was laughing in his sleeve and simply -pining to be disobeyed--just wanted to prove my mettle--that's what -he said himself, roaring with laughter, and as pleased as Punch about -it all. Oh, what an idiot I was to have waited all those months -without so much as seeing Cicely, and I verily believe that if I had -conscientiously allowed the year to pass the old governor would have -disinherited me for that!" - -Cicely, too, joined in the laughter that Pierce's story gave rise to; -she was looking very happy, a little bashful, but her eyes were soft -and gentle, and Mostyn went over and kissed her again, congratulating -her now from the bottom of his heart, as well as Pierce, for the -happy issue out of their troubles. All was well with them, at least, -and, doubtful as he was as to his own position, he would not grudge -them a fraction of their happiness. - -After a little while, however, a slight cloud crossed Cicely's face. -"We've so much to say about ourselves," she remarked penitently, -"that we are quite forgetting about you, Mostyn, and about another -matter--a very serious matter, too, which is troubling us, and which -will trouble you when you hear of it." - -"Never mind me," said Mostyn, "I'm all right. I stand as good a -chance to win to-morrow as to lose, and what more than that can any -man expect? We'll discuss my affairs later on. Tell me the trouble." - -"It's about father," said Cicely gravely. "But perhaps you've heard, -Mostyn?" - -Mostyn shook his head. He had heard no news as to his father for -several months. His time had been so wholly taken up that he had -been unable to give his attention to anything except the matter in -hand. "Is anything wrong?" he asked a little anxiously. - -"Very, very wrong, I'm afraid," replied the girl, shaking her head -ominously. "I shouldn't have heard anything about it any more than -you have, only it came to my ears in a roundabout way when we were in -Worcestershire. There was a man staying with the Pentons, who are -neighbours of the Trelawnys, you know, and he knew James and Charles -very well--I think he had some sort of connection with the bank; he -told me all about the misfortunes which have suddenly befallen our -father." - -"Misfortunes?" queried Mostyn, puzzled. "I hadn't an idea that there -was anything wrong. I should have thought that father was the very -last man on earth to have got into any sort of trouble, and the -bank--why, the bank must be as stable as any in London." - -"Oh! it's not the bank, and it's nothing for which father is to -blame," Cicely went on hurriedly. "It's James and Charles who've -turned out wrong. Oh, isn't it sad?" she went on, "for you know how -absolutely he believed in them; you and I were the black sheep, -Mostyn, but they were everything that they should be." - -"That's why they've gone wrong," put in Pierce, with a grunt of -disapprobation. "A couple of beastly prigs. I always hated them, -though they are your brothers, Sis. Well, there's one consolation, -which is that your father must have found out his mistake by now, and -recognised that he blundered when he turned you and Mostyn out of -doors. It ought to have been the other two." - -"What have they done?" asked Mostyn. - -"Charles has run away with a ballet girl or some terribly impossible -person," Cicely explained. "He induced father to make over a large -sum of money to him, professing that he wanted it for that charitable -work he pretended to be so interested in. I don't believe there was -ever anything of the sort," she added indignantly; "it was only an -excuse of Charles's to get a little more liberty while he was living -at home." - -Mostyn said nothing, but smiled to himself. He knew that Cicely was -right. - -"As soon as he had got his money," the girl went on, "he showed -himself in his true colours. He laughed at father, and called him a -pious old fraud, or something of the sort, which was wicked and cruel -of him, for whatever he may be, our father is at least no hypocrite. -Then Charles threw up his position at the bank, announced that he was -going to marry the impossible person, and disappeared from home." - -"So much for Charles," said Mostyn. He had very little sympathy with -Charles. "What about James?" - -"Ah! that's worse still, very much worse," Cicely continued, a little -quiver at the sides of her lips proving that she was really moved. -"James has been getting into money troubles, though how he can have -managed it, I haven't the remotest idea. For, of course, he didn't -gamble or bet or anything of that sort." - -"Stock Exchange," interjected Pierce, his upper lip curving. "It's a -deadly sin to back a race-horse, but you may stand to lose or win -your thousands upon the rise or fall of stock. That's one of those -things which your father may be able to explain, but which knocks the -ordinary man silly." - -"I suppose it was on the Stock Exchange," Cicely went on. "Anyhow, -he lost a great deal of money, and at last it is supposed that he -must have contrived to tamper with the books at the bank. Of course, -he meant to put everything right, but, as usual, when the time came, -he could not do so, and so he forged father's name to a bill, or -whatever you call those dreadful things, for a large sum of money, -and the worst of it is, that that bill has got into the hands of a -man who knows the signature to be a forgery. You can see what -terrible trouble there is, and father--I saw him yesterday--is nearly -off his head with anxiety. He's all alone in that great house in -Bryanston Square, for James, mean coward that he is, has absconded to -America, and Charles hasn't been anywhere near the house." - -"Is the sum so large," asked Mostyn, "that father is unable to settle -with this man? I suppose, after all, it's only a question of money, -and that if the bill is met, nothing will be said about the forged -signature. If that's the case---well, if Pollux wins -to-morrow--there won't be much difficulty in pulling father out of -this hole." - -Cicely shook her head. "No, it isn't only a matter of money," she -explained. "That's just the horrible part of it. It was because we -thought that money might settle it that Pierce and I went to -Bryanston Square last night. Then we learnt that the man who holds -the bill is a bitter enemy of father's, and he vows that he'll show -the whole thing up; it's no good offering to pay him, to meet the -bill at maturity, or anything of that sort; he is a very rich man, -and doesn't care what he loses. His one wish is to make things -uncomfortable for the Clithero family, and he'll do it, too, for he's -hard and cruel--a Jew." - -"Who is this man?" asked Mostyn. "Do I know him?" - -"Yes." It was Pierce who volunteered the information. "It's -Isaacson, the fellow who owns Don Quixote." - -"Isaacson!" Mostyn wrinkled his brows. "Isaacson is a hard nut to -crack, and, as you say, money doesn't mean much to him. He's on the -way to becoming a millionaire as it is, and if he's got a private -spite-- - -"It's both a private and a business spite, I believe," Cicely -declared. "I heard father speak of him, I remember, about a year -ago, and of a row there had been between them in the City. And then, -after that, they met at some dinner-party or other, and there was a -scene. Father expressed his opinion in his usual forcible way, and I -expect Mr. Isaacson did so, too. Anyway, they have never forgiven -each other, and this is the result. Isaacson will show James up for -what he is, and the whole family will be discredited." - -"According to father, we have already disgraced the family," remarked -Mostyn with some bitterness. - -"Ah!" Cicely lifted her fair head, and a tear glistened in her eye. -"He is a changed man now, Mostyn. You would be sorry for him if you -saw him, indeed you would. I believe he realises the mistakes he -made. He asked me after you, and his voice shook as he spoke--he is -just a poor, broken-down old man, and I think his health is giving -way. The wheels of time have ground our revenge for us, Mostyn." - -Mostyn sat for a moment, thinking deeply. "You are right, Cicely," -he said. "He is our father, and he acted justly according to his -lights. It's not for us to bear malice. I'll tell you what I'll -do----" He started up from his chair. "I'll go and see Isaacson at -once. He lives in Portman Square, I believe, and if he's not at -Epsom it's very likely that I shall find him. I'm bound to see him -at the Derby to-morrow if I miss him to-day, but one can't talk -'shop' down there. Of course, I don't know that I can do anything, -but I'll have a try." - -"And go to father afterwards, will you, Mostyn?" Cicely rested her -hand upon her brother's arm. "He will see you, I'm sure of it. His -eyes were quite wistful when he spoke of you, though he did not ask -me to bring about a meeting. And he will be grateful when he knows -that you have tried to help him. He's never needed to turn to anyone -for help and comfort before, and it's that, I think, more than -anything else, that has broken him." - -And so it was decided, and, after making their arrangements for the -following day, Pierce and Cicely took their departure. Cicely was to -spend the whole day with her father, while Pierce was to meet Mostyn -in Eaton Square, whence, as the year before, they were to go down to -Epsom on Sir Roderick's coach. - -Mostyn drove without any delay to David Isaacson's house, and he was -lucky enough to find the financier at home. As he had expected, he -found the house a particularly luxurious one. The door was swung -open by two liveried and powdered flunkeys, while a grave butler -appeared to enquire his business. The hall was lavishly decorated in -marble, and the room into which Mostyn was shown, although not on a -large scale, was suggestive, even to the very smallest item, of -ostentatious wealth. Yet it was not so many years, as Mostyn knew, -since David Isaacson had occupied humble little offices somewhere off -Regent Street, living and sleeping in a couple of dingy rooms just -over them. - -"Ah! Mr. Clithero, I'm glad to see you." Isaacson, attired in a -resplendent afternoon lounge suit, entered the room, a large cigar -held in the corner of his mouth. He appeared a strange figure in the -midst of the almost feminine luxury of his apartment, and yet there -was something about the man which rather appealed to Mostyn. There -was a good-humoured twinkle in his dark eyes, and a certain sincerity -about his lips which rather belied his reputation for hardness. A -sharp man of business, one who would insist upon his pound of flesh, -but honest withal--so Mostyn summed him up. "Nice little place I've -got here, eh?" The Jew gazed complacently round the ornate -apartment, fully conscious of the immense value of the draperies, of -the pictures, and of the various objects of art. There was hardly -anything that was not a _chef d'oeuvre_ in its way. "I am glad you -have come to see me. But why not at Epsom? I should have thought -that you would have been down for the first day's racing." He -offered Mostyn a cigar, and then proceeded to discuss the prospects -for the morrow's Derby. - -"Fancy!" he said, as Mostyn, in obedience to his invitation, seated -himself and lit the cigar which he had accepted. "When I heard there -was a Clithero to see me, I fancied it was someone else altogether. -It was lucky you gave my man your Christian name as well as your -surname, for I shouldn't have been at home to any other Clithero. By -the way, it never struck me before, and I hope you won't be insulted -by the question--you're no relation to that blatant, conceited, -self-righteous prig, old John Clithero, the banker, are you? But of -course, it's not likely, a sportsman like you----" - -"I am John Clithero's son," Mostyn said quietly. - -"God of my fathers!" Isaacson muttered another exclamation under his -breath, which Mostyn failed to understand, but which he took to be a -Hebrew oath. "You the son of John Clithero? Well, I'd never have -believed it--never! I'm sorry--I'm downright sorry, if I've offended -you, but really, upon my word, you know, I never associated you with -that lot. Now I come to think of it, though, I believe I did see -something in the paper--but I forgot all about it, and I didn't know -you then. There's no friendship between your father and me, Mr. -Clithero," he went on, "but you--well, that's a different matter. I -admire your pluck; a true sportsman always appeals to me." He had -begun his apology awkwardly, but he ended it with candour, stretching -out his hand, which Mostyn took readily enough. - -"To think that you're a son of John Clithero!" the Jew repeated. -"Well, that beats everything." - -Mostyn took advantage of the opening thus offered him, to explain the -object of his visit. He had nothing to say in defence of his -brother, nor, very wisely perhaps, did he attempt to say much for his -father, for it was palpable that Isaacson felt very strongly upon the -subject of his supposed wrongs at the hands of John Clithero. He -stated his case in simple words, and pleaded as though it were a -personal favour that he was asking. - -Isaacson did not allow Mostyn to conclude. He sat listening for a -few minutes, chewing at his big cigar; then he started to his feet, -crossed the room quickly, and rang the bell. - -For a moment Mostyn fancied this to be an indication that the -interview was terminated, that Isaacson would hear no more, but he -was quickly undeceived by the smile upon the man's face and by his -genial tone. - -"Say no more about it, my boy," Isaacson cried heartily. "I've rung -the bell for my secretary, and I'll ask him to look out the bill and -hand it over to you. It's a different thing altogether now that I -know you're concerned in the business. We are both of us sportsmen, -what? and one sportsman isn't going to round on a friend or play a -shabby trick. Old John's been taken down a peg or two as it is, I -expect, and he'll feel it all the more when he knows that it's you -who've pulled him out of the mire. You shall have the bill here and -now." - -"But----" faltered Mostyn, taken aback by Isaacson's generosity, "I'm -not prepared to take up the bill immediately. It's for a large sum, -and----" - -"Oh, never mind taking up the bill! I'll trust you for that," -responded the other. "Get the thing in your hands while you can, -that's the best plan. This brother of yours has bolted to America, I -understand. Well, let him stick there, for he's a good riddance to -the country, and as to old John, I hope he'll learn his lesson, and -show a little more charity in his dealings with the world." - -As Isaacson spoke, the secretary entered the room in response to the -bell, was given his instructions, and retired. - -Isaacson seated himself once more by Mostyn's side, leaning forward -and tapping him familiarly upon the knee. "Folks say I'm a hard -man," he went on, "and perhaps I shouldn't be here if I hadn't -refused to listen sometimes to the appeals that are made to me; but -when it comes from you, Clithero, there's no thinking twice. You're -straight as they make them, and I should be very sore if I felt I'd -hurt you. I happen to know," he went on, lowering his voice, "that -that infernal little jockey of mine, that rascal Wilson, tried to -make a bit off you by promising to pull Don Quixote. That came to my -ears through the same individual who gave Wilson away--also that you -refused, and kicked the little scoundrel out. Well, though I never -thought you would have been a party to such a trick, I liked you all -the better for it, for, after all, you'd have run no danger, and you -must be jolly keen on winning a big race, judging by the number of -horses you've run in the course of a year. There, my boy, now you -know all about it, and why it's a pleasure to me to hand you over the -bill." - -It was news to Mostyn to learn that Isaacson knew all about Wilson's -proposal to him, and he flushed a little to think that, even for a -moment, the Jew might have thought it possible for him to yield; but -at the same time he remembered how he had been tempted, and the -thought of this heightened the colour in his cheeks. - -Wilson, he knew, had lost his licence as a consequence of Isaacson's -complaint against him. The case had been clearly proved, and -evidently there had been no necessity to bring Mostyn's name into the -matter. Of Wilson himself, he had seen nothing more since the day of -the Two Thousand Guineas, nor, indeed, had he had word with Jack -Treves. The latter had studiously avoided him, even when the two men -had met, as they were bound to meet, upon the day of the One Thousand -Guineas, when Mostyn's filly had proved, as he expected, quite -unequal to the task of even running into a place. If Wilson and -Treves still thought of avenging themselves against Mostyn, they had, -so far, made no move. - -A quarter of an hour later, refusing the hearty invitation to return -and dine, the incriminating document safely in his possession, Mostyn -took his departure. He was anxious to proceed straight to his -father's house, and to set the mind of John Clithero at rest. It -would be strange to meet his father again, and he wondered how he -would be received. - -He stood on the doorstep while one of the gorgeously liveried men -servants whistled sharply for a hansom. The house stood at the -corner of the square, and presently Mostyn could hear the sound of -rapidly approaching wheels, though he could not see the vehicle -itself. It sounded to him, however, as if two hansoms were racing -each other in answer to the summons. - -At that moment a little child, a fair-haired baby girl, escaped from -her nursemaid, whose attention had been distracted by the extravagant -golden livery of the footman, and toddled into the road just as the -two hansoms swept round the corner. - -Mostyn saw the danger. With a shout he sprang forward and seized the -little girl almost from under the horses' hoofs. He regained the -curb, escaping almost by a miracle, but so quick had been his -movements that, once out of danger, he slipped and fell, rolling -over, his arm bent at an awkward angle beneath him. - -The nursemaid, wailing with fear, gathered the little child into her -arms, but Mostyn lay where he had fallen till the two footmen and a -policeman came to his assistance. - -He was not unconscious, and presently he moved and sat up. But his -arm hung limply at his side and he realised a ghastly pain close to -the shoulder. - -Yet he tried to smile reassuringly into the faces of those who were -bending over him. "It's all right," he murmured. "I'm quite safe, -but--but I think I've broken my arm." - -With which he promptly fainted away. They carried him back carefully -into the house of David Isaacson. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -MOSTYN IS BETTER UNDERSTOOD. - -The company had assembled, as the year before, at Sir Roderick -Macphane's house in Eaton Square for the drive to the Derby. There -were some new faces, but for the greater part the party was the same -as that which had been present on the occasion of "Old Rory's" -victory. Lord Caldershot had arrived early, just the same -immaculately dressed Lord Caldershot, with eye-glass in eye and -inordinately tall collar, uncomfortably tight round his neck. He was -enquiring diligently if Miss Rada Armitage was to be present that -day, ready to declare himself as before, her cavalier, all the more -proud of being so because "the little minx is going to win the Derby, -by Jove! Fancy a girl of her age owning a Derby winner!" - -Rada was expected, and duly arrived, but Captain Armitage, who -accompanied her, walked with the assistance of a stick, and had -completely lost all his irresponsible gaiety of demeanour. He -appeared morose and sullen, the result of a week or so of enforced -abstinence from strong drink. He had, indeed, been very ill, and it -was against the orders of the doctor that he had ventured out that -day. But it was the Derby--Castor's Derby, Rada's Derby--and the -temptation was too great for him. - -"Where is Mr. Clithero, my hated rival?" smiled Rada, as Pierce -Trelawny approached and shook hands with her, freeing her for the -moment from the attentions of the assiduous Caldershot. - -"Didn't you know?" Pierce shook his head sympathetically. "Poor -Mostyn had a bad accident yesterday and broke his arm. He saved a -little girl from being run over, with happy results as far as the -child was concerned, but just the reverse for himself." - -Rada paled as she listened. "He is not in danger?" she asked -eagerly; then, reassured by Pierce's smile, she drew her breath in -sharply. "Of course you wouldn't be here if he was. But how brave -of him: he saved the child's life?" - -"Yes, he saved the child's life," repeated Pierce. "He fell from his -own momentum when he had got back upon the kerb. It was just outside -David Isaacson's house, and they carried him inside and made him as -comfortable as they could. He's there now; he'll be well in a week -or so, but, of course, it was all up with the Derby. Poor chap, he -won't see one of the finest races that we have been promised for -years. His own horse, too, pitted against yours, Miss Armitage." - -The girl said little, but the colour returned only slowly to her -cheeks. A sense of faintness had come upon her when she had learnt -of Mostyn's accident, and this had revealed to her, more forcibly -than ever, how much she really cared. - -She did care. What was the use of attempting to deceive herself? -That day when Mostyn's lips had met hers she had learnt that she -loved--yes, though she had torn herself away crying aloud that she -hated him. Then he had gone away, and she had eagerly desired him to -return. She had written to him, and, like a foolish man, he had -taken her letter far more literally than she had intended it. She -had expressed her desire to be friends, and had hinted her approval -of Jack Treves because he had promised not to "bother" her with -love-making that year. She would have broken with Jack, ready to -defy him and her father, if Mostyn had spoken again, if he had shown -any desire to be more than just the friend he now professed to be. -She had given him plenty of hints--or thought she had--but Mostyn had -been too blind to see them. So poor Rada had concluded that he did -not care any more; that, if he had ever cared, the love he bore her -had been killed, perhaps by her own folly. - -There was a time when she had seen her way to paying off her debts, -and her father's debts, to Jack Treves. Castor had done so well, and -promised to do better in the future. But in the meanwhile fresh -debts were incurred, so that, indeed, when she had opened her heart -to Mostyn in the paddock at Newmarket, it was true that she was more -closely bound to Jack than before. And yet she could not help -thinking that the latter had grown tired of her--no wonder, perhaps, -since she treated him with scant ceremony--and, as for herself, how -sick and tired she had grown of a bond that galled and vexed her! -She had come to hate Jack Treves: yet what did it matter what became -of her since Mostyn had ceased to care? - -"It's hard luck, isn't it," Pierce was saying, "but, after all, -Mostyn is in good hands and will be quite all right. I'd have stayed -behind with him, but he insisted that I must go to look after you. -My wife is with Mostyn"--he lowered his voice--"and his father is -with him, too," he continued. "You know that they have been on bad -terms for the last year, and they have just been reconciled. Mostyn -did something for his father, something that I can't tell you about, -and which has saved old Mr. Clithero from a very awkward position. -And now"--Pierce smiled--"the old man is at his son's bedside, in the -house of a man whom he professed to loath and despise; and I verily -believe that he, to whom racing has always been the devil's work, is -as anxious as Mostyn himself for Pollux to pull off the Derby." - -"Pollux won't," said Rada, with something of her old spirit. -Whatever she might be feeling, her pride was in arms against anyone, -and especially Pierce, guessing her secret. "I think it is mean of -Mostyn to wish to beat me," she continued, her cheeks flushing now. -"If he was so keen on carrying out his word he might have tried for -the Derby next June. He gave himself five years. Besides, the whole -thing was so silly; no one has taken it seriously but he." - -Pierce noted the girl's flushed cheeks and he read the truth of her -love in her eyes. He understood what she must feel, and how -heartless Mostyn's conduct must seem to her, since she knew nothing -of the will and of the incalculable importance it was for him that -Pollux should win the race. Was it not for her sake, too, that -Mostyn was depending upon Pollux? But she did not know--she could -not know. - -How he longed to explain! Could he not give her a hint? But he -quickly found himself involved in totally unexpected difficulties. - -"Don't be hard upon Mostyn, Miss Armitage," he ventured. "Really, I -assure you, he hasn't done this out of ill-will to you. If only I -could get you to feel that! Nor is it that silly wager which makes -him so keen upon winning the Derby. It may look to you like spite, -but believe me--try to believe me--it's quite the reverse." Poor -Pierce stammered painfully. He wanted to do the right thing both by -his friend and by Rada. He could see that the latter had been deeply -wounded in her affection, and he felt that if by chance Pollux should -win the race she might be too deeply offended with Mostyn to listen -to any explanation. And yet it was for her as much as for his -millions that Mostyn was fighting. - -"I don't understand you, Mr. Trelawny," said Rada. "Please try to -explain yourself." She tapped the floor impatiently with the toe of -her little shoe. Her dark eyes were fixed upon Pierce, who felt -particularly uncomfortable. - -"Mostyn cares for you far too much----," he began hesitatingly. - -"Cares for me!" Despite her determination not to betray herself Rada -could not help interrupting. "When he wants to be the one to rob me -of my victory! If Pollux wins he will laugh at and mock me, because -I laughed at and mocked him once: he will say that I challenged him -to win a Derby before me, challenged him unfairly because I already -had a horse in training. He wants to humiliate me--that's what he is -playing for--and you say he cares!" Rada poured out her words -tempestuously, though they were spoken in an undertone lest they -should be overheard. - -"Oh, how can I explain?" Poor Pierce was conscious by now of the -slough into which he had blundered. He was quite unable to extricate -himself, and only made matters worse by his attempts. "Mostyn loves -you, Miss Armitage," he faltered. "It's for your sake that he wants -Pollux to win; for your sake and----" - -"For my sake!" Rada broke into a harsh laugh. "When he knows what -this Derby means to me, that it is the ambition of my life! For my -sake!" - -"But it is!" Pierce had gone too far to withdraw. "I tell you -Mostyn loves you. But unless Pollux wins"--he faltered and -hesitated. Mostyn had bidden him keep the secret, from Rada most -especially. For what would happen if she knew? The girl would be -robbed of all her happiness in victory, should victory be hers. How -could she rejoice knowing that her triumph meant the ruin of another? - -"Yes," she prompted, "unless Pollux wins?" She had suddenly imagined -that she understood the situation. Perhaps it was because Mostyn saw -ruin staring him in the face that he had not ventured to speak to her -again of his love. He had been foolishly spendthrift: she had -scolded him often enough for his extravagance. What if he was making -his last plunge--upon this Derby--and, if successful, meant to claim -her? - -She was trembling with excitement. She wanted to know everything and -that immediately. "Go on!" she cried petulantly. "What will happen -if Pollux loses?" - -"I'm a blundering fool," stammered Pierce. "It's a secret, Miss -Armitage." - -"A secret I mean to share," she said decidedly. Again she stamped -her foot. "Tell me! I must know everything--I must." - -The explanation that might have followed here--for Pierce saw no -means of escape--was interrupted by a general movement in the -direction of the coach. The party was ready to start. "You must sit -by me and tell me about it as we go down," Rada commanded. - -There was a slight difficulty, in consequence of this, when it came -to allotting seats upon the coach. Rada stuck close to Pierce, in -spite of all the efforts of Lord Caldershot to intervene. The latter -found himself at last, very much to his chagrin, settled on the back -seat in the company of a simpering young lady not at all to his -taste, while on the other side he had the morose Captain Armitage, -who, as a matter of fact, hardly uttered a word during the whole of -the journey down. - -Rada and Pierce were seated in front, and it was not long before the -girl had elicited from her companion all that was to be told. She -learnt the full story of Anthony Royce's will; learnt, too, the true -reason why Mostyn, loving and desiring her as truly as ever, had been -constrained to silence. Pierce, once having committed himself, had -been as straw in her hands; and perhaps, since he saw that there was -now every chance of the misunderstanding between the pair of lovers -being cleared up, he was not, after all, so sorry that he had spoken. - -"If Pollux wins it's all right," he muttered to himself, "and if -Castor wins--well, I believe, though poor Mostyn will be ruined, Rada -will want him to stick to her all the same. And Mostyn would never -have thought of that. Perhaps it's just as well I spoke." In this -way he sought to comfort himself for his indiscretion. - -As for Rada, she was swayed by varying emotions. First and foremost -came the knowledge that Mostyn loved her, that he had never ceased to -love her. "I've been such a little cat to him," she said, penitently -clasping her hands together, and quite careless now of revealing the -truth of her own love. "But why didn't he tell me everything? Why -should he have kept the secret from me? I'd have let him have -Castor--I'd have done anything--anything. But it's only now"--she -drew her breath quickly--"when it's too late, that I get to know the -truth, and that only by bullying it out of you, Mr. Trelawny!" She -dashed her hand to her eyes. "I feel that it's I--I--who am standing -in his way of gaining all this money," she whispered, "and if Castor -wins now--oh, I shall hate myself!" - -"It's just that that Mostyn feared," said Pierce quickly. "That's -why he wouldn't tell you. Castor had to run. Miss Armitage, you -must just take it as a sporting chance. Things must be allowed to go -on exactly as they are. There isn't a shade to choose between one -horse or the other. Castor may win or Pollux may win; the one means -a lot to you, the other means a lot to him. It's fair for both -sides: the issue rests upon a race, a race where the chances are -absolutely even. One couldn't have anything better or finer than -that." - -But Rada turned her head away, and Pierce could see by the quivering -of her shoulders how deeply moved she was. It was a few moments -before he ventured to speak again. - -"You love Mostyn, Miss Armitage?" He lowered his voice, even though -his conversation with the girl had passed quite unheeded, for she was -occupying the outside seat, while his neighbour on the other side, a -Parliamentary friend of Sir Roderick's, an Irishman like himself, was -deeply engaged in discussing the question of cattle driving with a -lady of prominence in London society. - -"Perhaps I do," the girl admitted, in a curiously subdued tone of -voice, "but I wouldn't own it, even to myself, at first. The more I -knew it and felt it, the more I was compelled to struggle against it. -That's the sort of girl I am--a hateful, wayward little creature -altogether. But I'm suffering for it now, and I deserve to suffer." - -She was crying very softly now, but it was a relief to her to have -opened her heart, and for the rest of the way down she talked freely -to Pierce, telling him of the life she had led with her father, the -semi-savage life of so many years, giving him an insight into her -character such as she had never allowed to any man. - -They reached the course and took up their position under the hill, -the coach being greeted, if anything, by more public interest than -the year before. "Old Rory" himself was always an object to attract -attention, but, on the present occasion, it was upon Rada that all -eyes were fixed. - -The girl looked so young, almost a child, and yet it was quite three -years since she had registered her colours. The lemon and lavender -quartered were already well known and recognised by most race-goers. - -Sir Roderick made his traditional little speech very much in the same -words as the year before, save that he ended up by wishing good-luck -to Castor and to Pollux, and expressed a fervent wish that both -horses might win. After that, as was usual, the company dispersed to -follow their own pleasures. Captain Armitage alone remained stolidly -seated in his place, and he shook his head savagely when the butler, -who knew him well and was accustomed to administer to his fancies, -handed him up a brimming glass of champagne. Champagne was strictly -forbidden; Captain Armitage was allowed a little weak whiskey and -water with his meals, and no more. It was with a curse muttered -under his breath that he informed the butler of the fact, and -requested a little plain soda-water instead. - -Pierce stuck close to Rada that morning, though on one occasion he -nearly came to high words with Lord Caldershot, who, as soon as the -little party had begun to disperse, waited at the foot of the coach -for Rada, eager that he should have the honour of conducting her to -the paddock. - -"There's a horse belonging to a friend of mine running in the first -race, Miss Armitage," he drawled, "and I want you to come and have a -look at it. You can't do better than back Galahad to win, and a -shop. I'll get the money on for you, if you like," he added eagerly. - -"Thank you," replied Rada coldly, "but I'm not going to back anything -to-day. I've got quite enough interest in the one race. Mr. -Trelawny has promised to walk with me to the paddock." - -Lord Caldershot drew back, feeling unwarrantably snubbed, and was -perforce obliged to continue his attentions to the gushing little -damsel who had been his companion on the way down, and whom he -regarded as altogether too inexperienced to merit the time which he -had wasted upon her. - -For the nonce Rada seemed to have lost all her reckless carelessness; -she was quiet and subdued, and she went about her work with all the -calm self-possession of a woman of the world. She interviewed her -jockey and her trainer--old William Treves himself--who had brought -Castor to Epsom, and who was prepared to stake his reputation upon -the ultimate success of his stable. He would turn up his nose -defiantly at all mention of Pollux, and the state of the betting did -not influence him in the least any more than did the unbeaten record -of Castor's adversary. As the horses paraded in the paddock, he -would even point out to his cronies certain fancied defects about -Pollux which were visible only to his imagination. - -The absence of Mostyn Clithero, the owner of the latter horse, caused -some remark, but the story of his accident had got abroad, and -sympathy with him was very generally expressed. The reason why "Old -Rory" should have disposed of his colt to that remarkably -enthusiastic young sportsman was a matter for far greater -speculation, and it was estimated that the sum paid by young Clithero -must have been enormous. - -The most astonishing stories had got abroad as to Mostyn's wealth and -as to his desire to win a big race. His name was coupled with that -of Rada, and there were many who had evolved a romance out of the -rivalry of Castor and Pollux. - -It was some time after lunch, and within an hour of the big race, -when Rada, who was strolling in the enclosure with Pierce, suddenly -stopped, gave a low laugh, and laid her hand upon her companion's -arm, forcing him to stop. "Look there!" she whispered. - -Pierce, following the direction of the girl's eyes, perceived Jack -Treves, conspicuous for his flowery waistcoat, his tight-fitting -trousers, the horsiness of his coat, and the peculiar angle at which -his hat was tilted. He was leaning against the lower row of stalls -in the Grand Stand, talking to a remarkably smart-looking woman, who -wore a feather of exaggerated dimensions in her picture hat. One of -her hands, ungloved--probably to show the many rings she was -wearing--rested in close proximity to the big fingers of Jack Treves. -The pair were laughing and talking, quite unconscious of being -watched. - -"Who is it?" whispered Pierce. - -"It's Daisy Simpson," returned Rada. "Another hated rival," she -added, with a return of her natural humour. "She's an old flame of -Jack's. She used to live down at Partinborough, and they were great -friends before, and after, he did me the honour of wanting to marry -me. She went up to town and became an actress, or something of the -sort. She calls herself Daisy Montague and she must be getting on -remarkably well," Rada continued ingenuously, "to be able to flaunt -about in such clothes as that; but I've always heard that people make -a lot of money at the music halls." - -Pierce glanced again quickly at the young woman in question. "Daisy -Montague!" he repeated. "Ah, yes, I've heard of her." He smoothed -his dark moustache with his hand, as if to hide the smile that curved -his lips. "I've no doubt she's very clever," he remarked; "a light -of the music halls. I'm quite sure that her talent has been -appreciated." - -"Jack doesn't look as if he was worrying about me over much, does -he?" asked Rada, with a little laugh. "I've often had an idea that -he's rather regretted being off with the old love. I never could -understand why he preferred me. Miss Daisy is so much more his -style. Look at him now. Why, he's positively fawning over her! -They used to say that he treated her rather badly in the old days, -but I suppose he admires her now she's successful." - -At that moment Jack turned and recognised Rada. He raised his hat, -then after a few words to Daisy, spoken in a quick undertone, he -turned away and sauntered up to the couple. - -"I've been on the look-out for you all day, Rada," he said jauntily. -"Must just have missed you in the paddock an hour ago, but knew that -I should have to run across you soon." He stared pointedly at -Pierce, who, however, refused to take the hint. - -"Where are you going to watch the race from?" Jack enquired, after an -awkward pause. - -"I am going back to the coach," replied Rada, carelessly. - -"Oh, I say, that's not fair!" exclaimed Jack. "You promised to be -with me to see the race, Rada, you know you did." He scowled -offensively upon Pierce. - -"I can't help it," said Rada easily. "I've come down with the party -and I've got to be with them. You looked quite happy without me, -Jack." She cast a glance in the direction of the stalls, where Daisy -Simpson was now sunning herself, smiling upon a tall, fair man, who -had just taken his place beside her. "I've no doubt that your friend -over there will effectively fill my place," she added meaningly. - -"Oh, you're jealous!" Jack exclaimed. "I can see that. But Daisy -Simpson's a jolly fine girl, and I'm glad to have met her again." He -spoke with intentional malice. "Now look here, Rada," he went on, -"if you can't be with me to see the race I want a word with you here. -I'll take you back to the coach afterwards. We'll have this matter -out once and for all, see?" - -"Very well." Rada turned to Pierce, who had been standing a little -apart. "Will you excuse me for a few minutes, Mr. Trelawny?" she -said. "If you'll go back to the coach I'll join you there very soon." - -Pierce nodded, and Rada and Jack moved away together. - -"Now I want to have a definite understanding with you, Miss Rada," -Jack said roughly, after they had taken a few steps. "Do you mean to -marry me, or don't you? I'm not the sort of man to be kept dangling -for long at the end of a piece of string. If you want to cry off, -say so. Clear up the money you and your father owe me and have done -with it." He cast a furtive glance from under his heavy brows in the -direction of Daisy Simpson. "I don't believe you care a hang for me, -really," he went on, "while Daisy--well, I've just been having a chat -with her and she's as fond of me now as ever she was. London's made -a different woman of her too, as you can see for yourself. She's the -kind of girl any chap might be proud of." - -"No doubt you're quite right, Jack," said Rada. "I can quite -understand Miss Simpson's attraction for you." - -"Well, I'm talking straight to you, aren't I? If you want to give me -the chuck, just say so. Though, mind you," he repeated -threateningly, "I shall expect payment in full. That's plain enough, -what?" - -"It's very plain, Jack," replied Rada quietly, "and really I think I -had better pay you the money. If Castor wins I can do so quite -easily." A shade of anxiety crossed her brow as she spoke. If -Castor won! Yes, it was upon that that she had been depending to -escape from this foolish tangle in which she had involved herself. -If Castor won she could pay Jack what she owed him, and be free. But -then, on the other hand, if Castor won, what would be the consequence -to Mostyn Clithero? - -"Oh, Castor will win right enough." Jack tugged at his scrappy -moustache and smiled maliciously. "You can take that as a tip from -me, Rada, though it's your own horse we're talking about. Castor's -going to win, my word upon it." He chuckled under his breath. "I've -seen to that," he added. - -Rada drew up abruptly, staring at her companion. "What did you say?" -she asked quickly. - -"Oh, nothing," responded Jack a trifle uneasily. "Only I've backed -Castor pretty heavily myself. That's all I meant." - -Rada was only half reassured, but she could elicit nothing more, -though she questioned Jack closely. The latter was inclined to be -rough, threatening, and impertinent. From his point of view he had -been treated badly, and it made no difference that he himself was -willing to cry off the engagement. He pointed out to Rada--a fact of -which she was already aware--that her father's affairs were so -involved that, even if Castor won, she would hardly be able to put -them straight. It was not only to the Treves's that they were in -debt; Captain Armitage had consistently raised money in any way that -suggested itself, and now he was about to reap the harvest of his -follies. - -"I suppose you know your own affairs best," grumbled Jack, "but it's -a fool's game to give me the chuck, I can tell you that. I suppose -you're lookin' to Clithero--damn him!--to pull you through, but -you're backin' a wrong 'un there, Rada. He'll come a smasher when -Pollux fails to-day. No man can stand the pace at which he's been -goin'; it's not in reason." - -"Will you please take me back to the coach?" Rada spoke imperiously. -"I have promised to be with Sir Roderick and Mr. Trelawny for the -race. They will look after me then and afterwards." - -Indeed, there was little time to spare. The bell was ringing; people -were scurrying across the course. Rada and Jack had barely reached -the other side when a low cry went up from the crowd and a black -horse emerged from the paddock, a horse which was proclaimed by the -puce and black of the jockey to be Mostyn Clithero's Pollux. - -It was at that moment, as they stood watching for Castor to appear, -that a rough-looking fellow pushed his way to Jack's side, thrust a -note into his hand, and then remarking, "I've had a hunt for you, -guv'nor," edged away again. - -"What's that letter about?" Rada put the question as Jack read the -communication. All her suspicions had returned to her. She felt -possessed of a curious clairvoyant power, and knew that she had -reason to be on her guard. - -"It's nothing to do with you." Jack crushed the note in his hand, -preparatory to thrusting it in his pocket. - -With a sudden sharp movement, totally unexpected, Rada seized the -paper. She hardly knew why she did so; she was impelled by the -action of some unaccountable power. - -"Give that to me. Curse you, what d'you mean by it?" Jack sought -vainly to rescue his property, but since he could not exercise actual -violence there under the Epsom Hill, he was powerless. Rada unfolded -the crumpled paper and read the missive. - -"It's all right, Jack. I've got Ben to do the job. Only found him -this morning. It's all up with Pollux. We've wiped off our little -debt, and you can turn your brass upon Castor. Meet you after the -race--you know where." The note was signed "Ted." - -For a moment Rada stood still, then she found tongue. "You -blackguard!" But her breath was coming in deep gasps, and she could -say no more. - -"Look here, Rada," growled the man, "you've no right to read my -letter. But let that pass. Since it's all for your good you won't -be such a fool as to kick up a shindy. Your horse will win the -Derby, and that's what you want. Give me that paper, and say no more -about it." - -"No!" Rada crushed the incriminating document in her hand. "I won't!" - -He seized her arm. "Give it to me," he hissed. "Rada, if you make a -fool of yourself, I swear before God that you shall suffer for it. I -can ruin you and your father, and I'll do it." - -"Let me go!" The girl struggled free. They were surrounded by a -crowd, and the man was helpless. "If you dare to try and hold me, -I'll strike you. Yes, here before everyone--I'll strike you with my -fist in the face." - -Jack swore under his breath. He hurled vile oaths at the girl, but -he was powerless. As a cheer from the crowd proclaimed that Castor -was galloping down the course, Rada, his owner, darting in and out -wildly and ingloriously among vehicles of all kinds, sought the coach. - -She failed to find it, but she ran into the arms of Pierce Trelawny, -which was more to the point. - -"Miss Armitage---why, what is the matter?" - -"I want you to come with me, Mr. Trelawny." She was gasping for -breath. "You must come at once. I must see the stewards. There -isn't a moment to be lost." - -It was very evident, from the girl's demeanour, that the matter was -one of vital importance. Pierce asked no useless questions, but -placed himself unreservedly at Rada's disposition. He contrived to -steer her, though not without difficulty, to the other side, and -directed their course to the Grand Stand. - -"There's going to be foul play," Rada panted as they walked. "Pollux -is to be got at--I don't know how." - -"And you will warn the stewards?" - -She made no direct reply, but muttered something under her breath. -Pierce could not quite distinguish the words, but he thought he -heard: "Castor will win--Castor is bound to win." - -* * * * * * - -Upon the coach they wondered what had become of Rada, but assumed -that she was with Pierce Trelawny, watching the race from the other -side. She would want to be upon the spot to lead her horse in--if -Castor should prove victorious. - -The start was delayed longer than usual, owing to the vagaries of a -bad-tempered colt. Sir Roderick, gazing through his field-glasses, -stamped his feet with excitement. - -"They're off!" he shouted at last, and for the rest of the race he -kept up a running commentary of the principal events. - -"Bad-tempered beast that--Prince Eugene--wasn't it? He's no -good--not a bit of good. Won't be in it. Being left behind already, -unless I'm mistaken. The rest are coming along nicely. Can't make -out either of the favourites, though--they're too far off as yet. -Who's that forging ahead? Green sleeves, and yellow, I fancy. It -must be Candahar. He won't keep up that pace for long. Going well, -though. Ah, here comes another--level with him now! Goliath, by -Jove! Where the deuce are the favourites?" - -He swept the field with his glasses, and presently gave vent to a -shout. "Come along, Pollux!" He glanced down in sudden trepidation. -"Oh, it's all right! Miss Armitage isn't there. I may cheer my own -horse. Come along, Pollux!" - -Castor and Pollux were running practically level. Some four or five -horses were in advance of them, and about the same number followed -behind. Between these, the two big black colts, suddenly revealed by -the dividing up of the field, stood out conspicuously. The lemon and -lavender--the puce and black diamonds--the two horses that might have -been twins--Castor and Pollux--battling together for Rada and for -Mostyn--shoulder to shoulder, like brethren, yet, in very truth, the -sternest of adversaries. - -On they came, running easily, each palpably being held in by his -rider, reserving force till it should be needed. The rest of the -field was straggling by now. Two or three, including Prince Eugene -and Candahar, had already dropped far behind, "stony," and quite out -of the running. Pendragon was leading and looked like making a brave -fight. - -One by one the horses that were in advance of the favourites were -overtaken, passed, and left behind. The crowd roared its delight at -each succeeding achievement, for Castor and Pollux, once they elected -to take the foremost place, would certainly not again drop behind. -And still they came neck to neck and shoulder to shoulder. - -Near Tattenham Corner, Pendragon still held the lead. The tussle was -short and sharp. Castor and Pollux made a simultaneous spurt, and -forged to the front amid the uproarious cheers of the vast, heaving -mass of humanity that crowded Epsom Downs. It was a struggle now -between the favourites, for there was none to challenge their -advantage. But what a struggle! what a contest! what a race! - -At Tattenham Corner, Pollux was leading by a little--very gradually, -and without any display of premature energy, he was forcing the -running. "Come along, Pollux!" yelled Sir Roderick, waving his arms, -and perspiring with eagerness. "Brave horse! the race is yours!" He -lowered his voice and muttered: "God send you first to the post!" -The words were breathed like a prayer, and there was no irreverence -in them. Sir Roderick knew all that the victory of Pollux meant to -Mostyn--and to Rada. - -"Hullo! what's up?" The cheers of the crowd changed to a yell of -dismay. Those who were at the back and could see but ill, put the -question frantically to the more fortunate ones in front. "A horse -down? Which is it? Pollux? Good God!" - -The name of Pollux swept from lip to lip. At the moment of rounding -the Corner, Pollux had been seen to sway, to stumble--then, carried -on by his own velocity, to go down head first. Castor swept by, -unchallenged now, a clear course to victory before him. - -Sir Roderick struck his fists violently together. "The devil's in -it!" he roared. "Yes, the devil himself!" He dashed his hand over -his eyes, which had suddenly grown dim. - -"Poor Mostyn!" The words came from his heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -MOSTYN COMPLETES HIS TASK. - -"Three o'clock! The race should be starting in a few moments now, -Clithero." David Isaacson bustled into the room where Mostyn lay -upon an improvised bed. Isaacson had not gone to the Derby. An -important piece of business had detained him in London, and when that -was concluded he had devoted his time to his young friend. - -Mostyn had been moved very tenderly and with the utmost care from the -bed-chamber, which had at first been allotted him, to a room where -Isaacson, some months before, had set up a tape machine. In this -way, Mostyn would learn the result of the race with no delay at all. - -His injury was a simple fracture of the upper arm, and when the bone -had been well set by a skilful surgeon, called in at once, Mostyn had -found himself fairly comfortable, though, of course, it was necessary -for him to remain absolutely at rest. A message had been sent to his -father, a letter written for Mostyn by Isaacson, with which the bill -was enclosed, and John Clithero had come round at once, even to the -house of the much-hated David Isaacson, and there, by Mostyn's -bedside, the reconciliation between father and son had been complete. - -"I have fallen low, Mostyn," the old man had muttered, "and it is I -who have to crave your forgiveness." - -He would have said much more, but Mostyn would not allow him to do -so, and presently, Cicely coming in, John Clithero was able to -realise that, though he had lost two of his sons, he had at least -regained the son and daughter whom he had so ruthlessly turned from -his door. These two had stood by him in his hour of need. - -"I have learnt my lesson," he sighed. "And it is you, Mostyn, and -you, Cicely, who have taught it to me." - -Upon the following day--Derby Day--he was, perhaps, as keenly excited -as anyone else in the result of the race, for he knew now all that -depended upon it. He superintended the carrying down of his son to -the room where they could watch the tape, and he would hardly consent -to leave Mostyn's side even for his meals. When Isaacson arrived to -announce the hour, it was as much as he could do to sit still. - -He was sadly changed--there was no doubt as to that. All his -arrogance had fallen from him, to give place to a kind of apologetic -demeanour; it was as though he was asking pardon from one and all for -the mistakes of his life, mistakes which must have been borne in on -him by much solitary reflection, by a very agony of self-examination. -He had been his own judge, and he was as hard in the verdict -pronounced against himself as he had ever been against one whom, in -his pharisaical self-righteousness, he had condemned as a sinner. -All that John Clithero had endured was plainly writ on his face. He -was a broken-down man--one who had lost faith in himself. Even David -Isaacson had felt sorry for him and had treated him with rough -kindness--for Mostyn's sake. - -Three o'clock. How slowly the minutes passed! Mostyn lay, propped -up by his pillows, his free hand clasped in that of Cicely, and he -was trying to talk of all possible subjects except that which was -uppermost in his mind. Isaacson sat by the tape machine, and John -Clithero kept hovering backwards and forwards, his agitation -painfully apparent. - -In his mind, Mostyn could see all that was happening. The horses had -left the paddock by now and had galloped down to the starting-post. -How the crowd must have cheered first Castor and then Pollux!--or, -perhaps, it was the other way about. He wondered if Rada was -watching the race from the coach; he thought she probably would be, -for Sir Roderick and Pierce would take care of her, and, if Castor -won, she would, of course, wait to lead her horse in. - -He drew a deep sigh as he thought of Rada. How would she behave when -she learnt the truth? If Castor won, would he even have the courage -to tell her why he had thrown himself into such direct competition -with her? Would he not be afraid to do so because of the trouble -which such knowledge must necessarily bring to her? She would be -horrified to learn that her success meant his ruin. Mostyn was -inclined to think that he must leave her in ignorance, even at the -expense of never gaining her forgiveness. - -The horses must have started by now. As he lay there, he could -almost hear the shouting of the crowd, that sound so familiar to him, -so musical in his ears. The noises in the square without blended and -harmonised with his fancy. A boy was whistling, further away an -organ was playing--then there came a sudden hush--yes, the horses -must be running! He wondered if they had got away at once; somehow -he had a strong impression of a false start. - -The tape clicked out the information. It kept up a monotonous -tick-tick that was jarring to the nerves. "Off 3.15. Delay at -start!" Then followed a list of the starters and jockeys--a long -list--there were fully a dozen in all. Isaacson held out the tape, -and read them off one by one. - -Then came a pause. It was a clock on the mantel-piece, an elaborate -affair of antique French china, that was ticking now. Mostyn had -hardly noticed it before, but it was extraordinary that he should not -have done so. Why, the sound was so loud and aggressive that it -seemed to be beating directly against the drums of his ears. He -pressed his left hand upon his ear, but it made no difference. The -noise went on just the same--if anything augmented in strength. How -fast his heart was beating, too--perhaps that had something to do -with it. - -"Ah, here we are!" A cry from Isaacson, as the machine recommenced -its ticking. He almost dragged upon the tape. The Jew was as -excited as anyone else in the room--of them all, Mostyn was the -calmest. "Now we'll see. Pollux for ever! I don't mind betting----" - -He broke off, the tape hanging in his hand. His jaw fell. Mostyn -noticed at that moment that his scarf-pin, a huge diamond, had nearly -worked its way out of his tie. It looked as if it must scratch his -chin. - -"Well, let's have it. Is the result out?" Mostyn put the question -calmly, but he knew already that Pollux had lost. - -"Clithero, my boy, I'm sorry--I'm damned sorry!" Isaacson stood up, -his eyes still fixed upon the tape that was now hanging in coils, -like a snake, about his fingers. The ticking went on cruelly, -remorselessly; it was like the needles of the weird sisters spinning -out the fate of man. - -"Let's hear it!" - -"Castor first, Pendragon second, Goliath third." The Jew's voice -sounded very far away as he spoke the words. - -"And Pollux?" - -"Blessed if I can make it out! Paragon was fourth. And here are the -names of the others." He tore the offending tape into shreds. -"Ah"--the machine was ticking again. "What's this? Pollux, one of -the favourites, fell at Tattenham Corner when leading. Horse and -jockey uninjured." - -Mostyn broke into a laugh. "So that's the end of it," he exclaimed. -"Something was bound to happen to any horse that ran in my colours. -Well, the tension's over, anyway." He fell back upon his pillows. -He was quite calm; something seemed to have snapped, and with it had -come infinite relief. There would be no more harassing of his -nerves, no more blood on the boil. It was over and he had lost. At -any rate he could rest. - -His father was leaning over him, pressing his hand. "It's all right, -Mostyn," the old man was urging in a voice thick with emotion. -"You've lost a big fortune, but what does it matter? You will come -back to me--my son: I've only got one son now--you, whom I drove from -my door." - -Mostyn pressed the hand in return. On the other side of him Cicely -was whispering words of comfort, words such as only a woman can find. -"It will be all right with Rada, too, Mostyn. I'm as sure of that as -of my life. She will be so happy at winning that she will forget -everything else. And you're not a pauper now, remember that, since -you're friends with father again. You can just go to Rada and ask -her to be your wife: she'll say 'yes,' or I know nothing of my sex." - -Isaacson, too, was voluble in sympathy. "It's not your fault that -you've come down, Clithero, my boy. You did your best, and no man -can do more. I admire you for your pluck, and every sportsman will -admire you as much as I do when the truth is known." - -The starting prices were ticked out unheeded while Mostyn's friends -stood about his bed; the tape was falling in long coils upon the -floor. Outside, in the square, a newsboy could be heard shouting -"Winner!" at the top of his voice. The momentous news had been given -to London. - -Isaacson stepped back to the machine and began once more to run the -tape through his fingers, reading out the starting prices as cheerily -as he could, as well as any other information that had come to hand. -Suddenly he was silent; he held a long strip before him, lifted close -to his eyes--for he was a trifle short-sighted--and he was apparently -reading the writing upon it over and over again. During these -moments his face expressed the most remarkable changes of emotion. -He had begun to read carelessly, then his attention had been -concentrated; finally, with a great wrench, he tore off the strip, -waved it in the air, and gave vent to an undignified and apparently -inappropriate shout. - -"God of my fathers!" he cried, literally dancing across the floor, -"but who would have thought it? Why, the girl's a champion, a -heroine"--he could not find words to express his feelings--"a brick!" - -"What are you driving at?" Mostyn dragged himself up again. For a -moment he wondered if Isaacson had taken leave of his senses. - -"It's all right! That's what I'm driving at. Read for yourself; -read!" He held out the strip of paper before Mostyn's eyes. The -latter took it in his left hand, but presently let it fall. The -letters all seemed to run into each other, and the print was blurred. - -"What does it mean?" he gasped. - -"It means that at the very last minute Miss Armitage appears to have -transferred Castor from herself to you. The whole thing is very -vague at present, for Castor certainly ran in her colours. But, from -this, she seems to be no longer the owner of the horse. Castor is -yours, Mostyn, and won the Derby for you!" - -Mostyn lifted his hand to his head. "It isn't possible," he -muttered. "There must be some mistake. It couldn't have been done." - -"It's right, you mark my words!" cried Isaacson, whose exultation had -by no means passed away. "It will be explained before long. And you -owe it all to Miss Armitage, my boy! She must have found out why you -wanted so badly to win. There's a noble girl for you! I tell you -what it is, Clithero: it's your duty to fall in love with her and -marry her--yes, by Jove, it is!" - -"Ah, if I could!" Mostyn sighed in answer. Nevertheless he -continued to express his disbelief, though the tape message was read -to him over and over again, and though it was confirmed by a later, -but still rather vague, announcement. - -It was not till about a couple of hours later that everything was -cleared up by the arrival of Rada herself, who, in the company of -Pierce, had motored up to London from Epsom. Sir Roderick would have -liked to have accompanied them, but he had his coach and his guests -to attend to. - -After the first excited greetings, Pierce told the story, while Rada -stood bashfully aside--yes, perhaps for the first time in her life -she showed symptoms of shyness. - -"That scoundrel Jack Treves appears to have arranged with Ted Wilson, -the jockey--both enemies of yours, Mostyn--to play a dirty trick upon -Pollux. They got Benjamin Harris to do it. Ben Harris was one of -old Treves's stablemen once, and I expect it was he who doctored -Silver Star at Jack's orders, but that's by the way. I'm glad to say -he was caught by the police, and he's given the whole plot away. -Jack and Wilson will catch it hot, and serve them right, too! What -the scoundrel did was to hide, as he thought, behind a tree, and -shoot at Pollux with an air-gun, or a catapult or something of the -sort. No wonder the poor beast swerved and fell. Pollux was leading -at the time and was going to win." - -"I'm not so sure of that," put in Rada, in spite of her shyness. - -"Well, never mind. What is really of importance is that Miss -Armitage, just before the race, surprised a note written to Jack by -Wilson, which gave the whole game away. And, as it happened, Miss -Armitage knew just how you were situated, Mostyn. It was my fault, -for I let it all out, and I'm glad I did." He stared defiantly at -his friend, and laughed. "Don't scold me now, however--you can do -all that when I've finished my yarn. Well, as long as things were -straight and above board Miss Armitage would have let matters take -their course--you stood a good sporting chance to win. But when she -found out the plot she came to me--the race was just about to -start--and made me take her to the stewards. I didn't know what she -meant to do till we were in the presence of those august individuals. -Then she announced that she wanted to make Castor over to you. Of -course, there were all sorts of difficulties in the way, but Miss -Armitage got over them all. I think she must have fascinated the -gentlemen. Of course I don't know what they thought"--he glanced -slyly at Rada, who turned away blushing. - -"Anyway," Pierce went on, "the stewards are omnipotent, you know. So -a transfer was signed and attested, countersigned by the stewards, -and a wire was sent to Weatherby's. It was all in order, I can -assure you, and quite legal. Of course, it was too late to make any -immediate announcement, so the race had to go on as it was, Castor -being ridden in Miss Armitage's colours. But Castor is your horse, -Mostyn; no one can dispute that, nor your right to Anthony Royce's -millions. I congratulate you a thousand times. There, now I've told -you everything." - -It was when Pierce ceased speaking, and as Mostyn, his eyes fixed -upon Rada, could find no words to reply, that John Clithero stepped -across the room and took the girl's hand in his. - -"Bless you for what you have done," he said. "My son has spoken to -me of you to-day, Miss Armitage--your name has been constantly on his -lips. He is afraid that he has offended you; but I don't think that -he can have done so, or you would not have sacrificed yourself for -his sake. But I am sure that he would like to hear you say he is -forgiven, and that he will want to thank you--alone." - -He led the girl to Mostyn's bedside, then, followed by all the rest -of the party, stole out of the room. - -* * * * * * - -"Do you remember," Mostyn whispered, some time later, in Rada's ear, -when all had been explained between them and every difficulty -smoothed away, "do you remember, my darling, the terms of our -wonderful wager upon the coach last Derby Day?" - -Rada needed no reflection. "I said I would wager my life that you -would never win a Derby," she murmured, "and I have lost." - -"You staked your life, and I have won it," he replied. "That is a -finer thing than money. I am happy, Rada--so very happy! In a -single day I have won a big race--a huge fortune--and, best of all, -your life--the life of the girl I love." - -His sound arm was resting on her shoulder. He drew her face to his, -and kissed her on the lips, and this time she did not repel him. - -"Do you really love such a little vixen, such a little devil, as I?" -she asked wonderingly. - -"You're a 'hangel,'" he answered, laughingly recalling the words of -Samuel Willis. "I always knew it, and to-day you've proved it. Kiss -me again, Rada, and then we'll summon the others and tell them the -news." - -Smiling softly, she bent and obeyed. "This is better than winning a -Derby!" she sighed happily. - - - -THE END. - - - -London: Ward, Lock & Co., Limited. - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPORTING CHANCE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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