"Yes," replied Mostyn, "I've bought the colt."
"Well, it may be all right." Jack Treves shook his head doubtfully. "And of course the captain can do what he likes with his own—that is, if it is his own—but I'll bet there'll be ructions, for Castor's entered for the Derby in the name of Miss Armitage, and she's always looked upon him as her particular property." He stooped and picked up a wisp of straw, passing it between his fingers.
"Her property?" faltered Mostyn. "I don't understand."
Jack Treves nibbled at his straw. "The captain didn't tell you then? I thought not. You see, when he went broke three years ago and appeared in the forfeit list at Weatherby's, she sold all her mother's jewels and paid his debts, and it was then that she registered her colours—
"Her colours!" gasped Mostyn. "Do you mean to tell me that Rada—er, Miss Armitage—has registered racing colours?"
"Lor lummy, yes!" was the reply, spoken with a certain malice. "A bit young, of course, but she's not like other girls. She's not had the best of luck, though, up to date, and that's why she's so keen on seeing the lemon and lavender carried to victory at Epsom next year. She simply dotes on Castor, and considers that the colt is hers in return for that jewellery."
Jack Treves threw his whittled straw away. "I guess," he said, "there'll be the devil of a row."
CHAPTER X.
MOSTYN LEARNS HIS ERROR.
Some seven or eight days after the sale of Castor, Captain Armitage reclined at his ease in the dilapidated arm-chair which he particularly affected. He had grown to like the untidiness and the dirt of his dismal little sitting-room, and he would not have altered his immediate surroundings for anything better, even had he been able to do so.