"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.