They drew near the palace. As usual, the guard at the gate inquired what business Kesley had within.
"I have an audience with the Duke," Kesley told him.
With great punctiliousness, the gateman disappeared into his tower and returned clutching a lengthy appointment sheet.
"The audience is at two," Kesley said impatiently, as the gateman's eyes wandered all over the sheet.
"Indeed so," the guard replied after a moment. "And I believe it's no more than ten now. Duke Winslow will see you in four hours, no sooner, señor."
Kesley wiped away sweat and fought down an impulse to cut the guardsman down with an impatient blow of his dagger. "It's an emergency. Tell the Duke that. Tell him that the Archbishop's been assassinated, and that I must see the Duke now!"
A flicker of interest crossed the guard's eyes. "I'll tell him that. Wait here."
Ten minutes later the guard returned. "Go in," he said laconically.
"You need me any more?" asked the policeman at Kesley's side.
"No—thanks, you've been very helpful." He handed the man a coin; as an afterthought, he gave one to the gatekeeper as well, and entered.