“Well, then.” Duke Harald shrugged. Putting down his coffee cup, he rose to his feet, stretched, and gathered up his battle cloak again. “It’s been a rocky night,” he said, yawning, “but I’ll not sleep sound until I’m out in space, high-driving it for Arkady. Now—where do you keep this space-boat, and I’ll be on my way.”
The old ambassador began a protest, but was interrupted. Not, however, by Duke Harald. The door chimed softly, and its warning light winked on and off repeatedly.
“That’s Borrow!” said Count Godfrey, suddenly nervous. Swiftly he turned the scanner on, studied his secretary’s pictured face, and touched the door switch. Duke Harald, chill apprehension heavy in his stomach, shrugged back his battle cloak and rested his hand upon his pistolets.
The secretary entered; closed the door behind him.
“Sir! And your grace!” he said tensely. He held a little square of paper in his hand. “A Master Elwyn, of the Esper Institute, is here, and asks a private talk with the ambassador.”
“Master Elwyn!” said Duke Harald, grim-faced.
“Yes, your grace. And,” Borrow stuttered slightly, “the servants tell me that the grounds appear to be surrounded.”
“Surrounded?”
“Yes, sir. By armed police.”
