A fourth rider leaned down from his horse. "Duke's guard, watchman. We're chasing an assassin!"
"Assassin? The Duke dead?"
"Heaven forbid. No; it's one of those South Americans. The Duke ordered him executed, but he escaped!"
"Dreadful," Kesley exclaimed, and released the bridle. The horse sped away into the night as another wave of riders followed down. Winslow, aroused, was probably sending his whole guard corps out to search for the fugitive.
Lights were going on all over the city now. Sudden bright, yellow eyes winked down from unshuttered windows. Kesley stepped back into the shadows and let five more horsemen go by.
A sixth came down the road. Kesley flagged him down with his lantern.
"What's going on, friend?"
"Haven't you heard? We're chasing an escaped assassin."
"What's that?" Kesley assumed an expression of horror. "What did he look like?"
"Big man in royal robes. One of those South Americans."