"Not just yet," he said. He turned away and broke the photon beam that controlled the front door. It swung open. He stepped out onto the slidewalks. There were five of them, he saw, running in a parallel series--five bright metal strips moving at different speeds. He was on the slowest of the five; it glided forward effortlessly, seemingly without friction. Carefully, he stepped to the adjoining strip, which was a little more crowded, and picked up speed. He became intrigued by the moving roadway and rapidly passed to the fastest of the slidewalks. By that time, though, eight blocks had slipped past, and he hastily edged back to the slow walk. At the eleventh block, he cut off deftly onto the eastbound walk that intercepted the one he had been on. Now he could see the Duke's Palace: a square, blocky edifice of lacy foamglass that was dwarfed by the towering buildings to either side. Remembering the awesome majesty of Winslow's and Miguel's palaces in comparison to the rest of Chicago and Buenos Aires, he thought it odd--and then not so odd--that Antarctica's Duke should affect a small, relatively unimpressive home. The slidewalk brought him rapidly to the shining door that fronted the Ducal palace. Kesley formulated his plan, set forth his demands in his mind. It was a bold, rash idea. If it failed, he had lost nothing. And if it succeeded-- He stepped off the slidewalk. The Duke's Palace seemed to beckon. * * * * * Inside, a robot attendant came humming up to him. Kesley confronted the featureless face calmly. "I'd like to see the Duke." "Certainly. Have you an appointment?" "No," Kesley said. "Tell him--" "Just one moment," the robot interrupted. "I'll arrange for an appointment. Your name, please?" "Dale Kesley." There was the momentary clicking of data-sorters over memory banks. Then the robot said: "Confirmation requested. Was the name Dale Kesley?" "That's right." "The Duke will see you at once, Dale Kesley. I will escort you to him." A little surprised, Kesley nodded. "That'll be fine." The robot glided away on its treads toward a lift-ramp. Kesley followed, suppressing his impatience. He wondered if the Duke of Antarctica would be surrounded by long rows of halberdiers. Somehow he doubted it. 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?