Beside Tyrrell, near the doorway, stood a thin and rather under-sized man, wearing an intricately plaited coat of light chain mail, over which was drawn a white linen tunic, with a crimson Maltese cross emblazoned upon the breast, after the fashion of the ancient Crusaders. This individual, conspicuous alone because of the simplicity of his dress when contrasted with those about him, was the famed diplomatist, warrior, statesman, shrewd conspirator, and eminent churchman, Lord Bishop Kennedy, to whom Tyrrell looked ever for council and advice, and who, in reality, had been the brains and backbone of the movement that had been designed to set the youthful Duke of York upon the throne of England. Here was a man possessing that strength of character that permitted him to remain always in the background. From whence he was wont to view the vast schemes in which he became involved as a whole, much as the successful general might select a high eminence from which to overlook and direct the maneuvres of his army. While indolence was at times attributed to him, on account of a certain reserve and unobtrusiveness of manner, to those who knew him well he was known to be indefatigably energetic. It was said of him, indeed, that he never slept, saving with an open eye to his tent-flap, or doorway. In Sir James Tyrrell, Bishop Kennedy had achieved a notably brilliant confederate--a man of ideas, a born inventor, but visionary to a perilous degree. Tyrrell was not suffered to be awakened out of his dream that he was the real leader; though, in point of truth, he was but nominally such. If, however, the block were to claim its tithe of vengeance, Tyrrell's head, and not Lord Kennedy's, would have been among those selected. Kennedy regarded politics as he did a game of chess, and was marvelously proficient in playing both. "A knight, or even a despised pawn," he was known to have said, "may say 'check' to a king, but it is a wise precaution to have a bishop stationed on the long diagonal." "Thou art certain beyond all peradventure," he was saying to Tyrrell, "that thou canst not be mistaken as to the identity of thy find?" "Aye--marry, am I, my lord," Tyrrell confidently replied. "I could scarce be amiss in my recognition of the unusual birthmark. Besides, good bishop, did not the youth make confession of his lack of knowledge of his progenitors?"