‘Where am I?’
‘In the house of Madame Julie St. Joseph.’
‘What is the hour?’
‘It is three o’clock.’
‘In the morning?’
‘No. The afternoon.’ Roko drew the curtains, and revealed the bright, steel-coloured winter sky, tinged a little towards the horizon with a flush of red.
The Count seemed puzzled. He stared first at the sky, then at the Creole.
‘How is it I am here?’ he asked.
Roko revealed all his gleaming teeth as he grinned in reply.
‘How is it I am here?’ repeated the Count, peremptorily and hotly.