"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 You will observe that certain other legacies--legacies mainly to public bodies--are withdrawn in order to make room for yours.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?"