Lovelace, however, was perturbed, and set out to prepare himself for the ordeal. But his was a temperament that forbade application on any subject other than horse racing. Every night he paced up and down the study passages getting hints first from one person then another, and always staying for a talk. By the end of preparation the result was always the same--nothing done; and he and Jeffries both spent the last Saturday in exactly the same way. But with Mansell it was different. If he got a promotion his pater had promised him a motor bike. At first sight this seemed impossible. Hunter in fact laid a hundred to one against his chances. But for once Mansell really tried at something besides games. For two halls he worked solidly from seven till ten, preparing small slips of paper that contained all the notes he could find in Gordon's notebook, and that could fit conveniently into the back of a watch. Everything was in his favour. Claremont was taking exams. The first paper was Old Testament history. Mansell looked at his watch repeatedly; but suddenly he came to an unexpected question. He endeavoured to extract an answer from the man on his right. Claremont spotted him. "Well, Mansell, if I ask you if you are cribbing, I know you will deny it, and I don't want you to tell me a lie; but I must beg of you not to talk quite so loudly." Any ordinary master would have torn up the boy's paper. But Claremont was getting old. At any rate for the rest of the exams. Mansell relied entirely on his notes. The Greek translation paper, however, was more than he could do. Promotion did not count on a set subject, but only on English and Latin; so Greek had gone by the board. After writing the most amazing nonsense for two hours, Mansell decided that it was wiser not to enter into competition at all with those low tricksters who had prepared their work. He showed up no papers at all. Next day Claremont corrected the papers. "Well, Mansell, I can't find your paper anywhere." "I showed it up, sir." "Well, I am sure I don't know where it is. You had better go and find Mr Douglas, and ask him if he knows anything about it." Mr Douglas was the mathematical master, to whom all marks were sent. He added them up, and made out the orders. After an unnecessarily long interval Mansell returned. "I am sorry, sir; Mr Douglas has not seen them." "Well, I suppose it must be all my fault. I shall have to give you an average on your papers, which, strange to say, have been, for you, remarkably good." Mansell was averaged sixth for the paper. A real good bluff gives more pleasure than all the honest exercises of one's life put together.