"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.