A pulse tickled annoyingly in the side of his throat as the elevator rose. The trip was brief; the door-panel was sliding open almost before it had closed.
The robot rolled out first and started off down a long, bright corridor. Kesley followed.
The corridor seemed to be endless. Finally, the robot paused before a richly-panelled door and touched a stud. "Yes?" a deep voice said.
Inclining its speaking-grid toward a pickup embedded in the ornament of the door, the robot said: "Dale Kesley to see you?"
"Kesley?"
"Dale Kesley to see you," the robot repeated impassively.
Kesley heard stirring within. He tensed; this was suspicious. Was it this easy to gain audience with a Duke?
He waited nervously for the door to open. He had been hired to kill Winslow; Miguel had begged him once to drive a knife into his breast. And now he was about to see a third Duke—the first he had any real motive for killing.
The door swung back. Another robot waited within.
"Don't tell me you're the Duke?" Kesley said, aghast. He had long since learned that anything was likely.