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.