"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?"
"I—I suppose I shall." Mostyn had taken up the paper from the desk and was pretending to read it; this, however, was to hide his embarrassment, and to give him time for reflection. It was beginning to dawn upon him that the extraordinary legacy was a result of the scene upon the coach when he, Mostyn, prompted by Royce, had undertaken to win a Derby in five years' time. This eccentric friend of his had wished to give him a sporting chance of doing so. But that Royce should have executed a will that same day, containing, moreover, such drastic stipulations, that was the inexplicable part of the whole thing.
Of course there was no question, however, as to what he must do. He was put on his mettle; the means were given him of carrying out his own challenge. A sense of exhilaration seized him. Suddenly, and for no particular reason, Rada's derisive words flashed into his mind: "You silly boy, you couldn't win a Derby if you lived to a hundred." He had felt those words very deeply, they had stung and wounded him—but now, in an extraordinary manner, the means had been placed at his disposal, and Rada—not only Rada, but the whole world—should see what he was made of.
He pulled himself together and sat upright in his chair. "Mr. Royce wanted to make a sportsman of me," he said, "I can see that. Well, I shall do my best to realise his ambition."
Mr. Chester smiled, the smile that he reserved for his most important clients, to which number he hoped that Mostyn would be added. "Well, I'm sure we wish you all success, Mr. Clithero," he said. He rose and extended a white hand. "Come and see us again to-morrow—let me see—yes—at 11.15, and we will discuss the matter at length. By the way," he added, "since you will, no doubt, wish to visit your new property shortly, we'll write to the gardener, whose name is Willis, and who has the charge of it, to notify him that you may be expected at any time."
As Mostyn reached the door Mr. Chester, suddenly recollecting a duty omitted, called him back. He searched for a moment among the papers of his desk, and finally produced a sealed letter which he handed to Mostyn. "This was brought to us to-day, Mr. Clithero," he explained. "It was evidently written by Mr. Royce on the day of his death, and should have been posted in the ordinary way. You see it is stamped though it has not passed through the post. Mr. Royce may have intended to drop it in the box himself and accidentally omitted to do so. It appears to have been found in his study. At any rate, it is addressed to you, and perhaps it may throw further light upon the matter of your inheritance." With which Mr. Chester bowed Mostyn from the room, and called to his head clerk that he was ready to see the next client.
Mostyn returned to his humble lodgings, the spirit of elation still upon him. What an extraordinary twist had come into his life! There was no fear of poverty—no need to depend upon the charity of his friends—for a year, at least, he was rich and independent, and ultimately—unless he failed to carry out what was imposed upon him—the laugh would be with him and not with Rada. He wondered why he should think so much about Rada, but of course it was because she had insulted him, and he had conceived such an antipathy to the girl.