“I desire to see the governor!” Dressed in all the finery that Kent could provide, Smith emerged from his hired coach at the main gate of Sissinghurst.
“Who the devil are you?” The sentry was not impressed with soft clothes and a gold-braided hat.
“I am Sir Francis Selby of Kingshunt Manor.” Smith rapped his cane against the sentry box. “Stand aside and let me in, fellow!”
“Oh!” The sentry hesitated. Drilled since birth to respect authority, he also had orders no to allow any unauthorised person past. Now a man of evident wealth and position was challenging these orders, putting him in a conundrum. His face cleared as he came to a decision. “If you wait here, sir, I’ll fetch the sergeant.”
“Fetch him,” Smith ordered, feigning carelessness, and swung his cane. “But hurry, man. I don’t h
