One morning towards the middle of February he was glancing down the casualty list, when he saw Jeffries's name among those killed. He put the paper down, and walked very quietly across to his study. Jeffries was well out of it, perhaps; but still Gordon wished he could have seen him once more. That last terrible scene in Study 16 rose before his eyes. He could almost hear the bang of the Chief's door. And now Jeffries was dead; and no one would care. A master, perhaps, might notice his name and say: "Just as well; he would have made a mess of his life." They had never known Jeffries. "You look rather upset this morning," murmured Morgan from a corner of the room. Gordon had not noticed him. "I am rather; a chap who had a study with me ... Jeffries ... he is in the casualty list this morning." "A.R. Jeffries?" "Yes. But you didn't know him, did you?" "Oh no; but I saw his photo in a winning Thirds group." "Yes, that would be him. He was a fine forward." Gordon was glad to think that that was what his friend was remembered for. Only the good remained. It was as Jeffries would have wished.... The Two Cock drew near. There had been a good chance of winning once, but influenza had played havoc with the side. Gordon told them they were going to win, encouraged them, presented a smiling face, but his heart was heavy. He saw another cup going to join the silver regiment on the Buller's sideboard. He had never found life quite so hard before; only Morgan's unshatterable optimism, Ferrer's volcanic energy, and his own friendship for Morcombe made things bearable at all. And yet he had all the things he had once wanted. Now Betteridge had left, he was indisputably the big man in the House. Rudd was a broken reed. At last he began to see that the mere trappings of power might deceive the world, but not their wearer. A week before the Two Cock Tester paid an unexpected week-end visit. He was full of vitality and exuberance. He was just the same, debonair, light-hearted, thoroughly happy. Everyone was pleased to see him; he was pleased to see everyone. He was almost hilarious. But as Gordon watched him carefully, his mirth seemed like that of Byron in _Don Juan_, laughter through his tears. The others did not notice, because they had never known Tester. Just after prayers he met Tester on his way back from supper with the Chief. "Hullo! I have been looking for you," he said; "come for a stroll round the courts." "Well," said Tester, as soon as they were out of earshot, "what do you make of it?" "Pretty awful."