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.