The Bishop rose, a noble figure in crimson and gold, and the dignity of his high office straightway enveloped him.
In complete silence, he stretched out his right hand for the letter.
The dusty traveller came forward quickly, knelt at the Bishop's feet, and placed the missive in his hands.
As the Bishop lifted the Pope's letter and, stooping his head, kissed the papal seal, the Knight kneeled on one knee, his hand upon his sword-hilt, his eyes bent on the ground.
So for a moment there was silence.

The sovereignty of Rome, stretching a mighty arm across the seas, asserted its power in the English hall.
Then the Bishop placed the letter upon a small table at his right hand, seated himself, and signed to both men to rise.
"How has it fared with you, Roger ?" he asked, kindly.
"Am I in time, Reverend Father ?" exclaimed the youth, eagerly.

"I acted on your orders.

No expense was spared.

I chartered the best vessel I could find, and had set sail within an hour of galloping into the port.