Suddenly he blurted out the truth. "The girl fascinates me," he said, in conclusion. "I can't understand how, or why. I don't quite know if I hate or love her, but I'm quite sure that I want to master her, to punish her somehow for having mocked me. She has challenged me twice, and I want to be even with her. That's how we stand." He blushed as he spoke, staring viciously at the toe of his shoe.
Pierce gave a low whistle. "You're in love, Mostyn," he said, "and you've taken the complaint rather badly and in a particularly dangerous style. I shall have to get you out of this, and as quickly as possible: you may think of Rada as much as you like next year, or when you've won your title to the legacy, but till then you must be on probation, old chap, just as I am."
Mostyn agreed that his friend was right, and so it was decided between them that he should join Pierce in London in two or three days' time, and that they should devote their energies to finding suitable horses to run for the Hunt Cup as well as the Goodwood Cup a little later on. As a necessary preliminary step, Pierce had already entered Mostyn for the National Sporting Club and also for the Albert and the Victoria, and the sooner he put in an appearance there, to make the acquaintance of the leading sporting men, the better.
The two friends reached the paddocks very early the next morning, and Pierce looked Castor over before the colt was led out of his stable to exercise. He scrutinised the animal with the eye of a man of experience, and commented upon this and that point in a manner which filled Mostyn with envy.
"Plenty of mettle and spirit," he said, dodging quickly out of the way, as Castor, conscious no doubt of a strange hand upon his hock, pranced to and fro in his stall. "In fine condition, too. I can see nothing to carp at; if half of old William Treves's tales are true, I should say you've got a good thing, Mostyn, and cheap at the price you paid."
Pierce's good opinion was in no way altered when he had seen the horse at exercise. He stood with his friend by the stable wall facing the great bare track of country, over which Treves's horses followed each other in straight, unbroken line. William Treves himself was absent that day at Newmarket, but presently the two young men were joined by his son Jack, who strolled leisurely up, and began to talk in his usual familiar fashion.
Mostyn had seen a good deal of Jack Treves during the past week, and nearer acquaintance had not improved his liking. He was quite sure that the trainer's son had conceived a jealousy of him, imagining, no doubt, that he and Rada were old friends. It was very evident by the way he spoke of her that Jack considered he had a claim upon Rada's affections, a claim which Mostyn, jealous in his turn, resented.
Having seen Castor put through his paces, Pierce was loud in his praise of Mostyn's purchase, repeating all he had said in the stable, and even appealing to Jack Treves to confirm his opinion. The latter stood lounging against a post, smoking a cigarette, his thick lips parted in an irritating smile. Mostyn could not help thinking that there was something at the back of his brain to which he did not wish to give expression. He had laughed outright once or twice without apparent cause, and there was a palpable sneer on his lips as he turned to Mostyn and informed him that Miss Armitage had returned the day before, and would no doubt put in an appearance that morning.
Jack had divined correctly. It was as Castor, bestridden by a stable lad, was drawn up almost opposite to them, and while the attention of all three was bestowed upon the horse, that Mostyn heard a voice close behind him, calling him by name, and turned to find himself face to face with Rada. She had ridden up upon Bess, had dismounted, leaving the mare to wander at will, and had approached unnoticed.
"Mr. Clithero."