‘Exactly,’ said Ugo. ‘The mosquito. She kills millions of people every year. She has been the ruin of this island. The people cannot progress because they are sick with malaria. You see them everywhere with dull eyes and yellow skin. And they are the lucky ones; at least they are still alive. Oh, the government is busy draining the marshes where the mosquitoes breed, but as you can see, we still have a long way to go.’

Ugo waved his hand at the insects that were beginning to swarm all around them. James already felt itchy and uncomfortable.

‘Perhaps I am being a little unfair on the mosquito,’ said Ugo, ‘because the insect itself is fairly harmless. It is what is carried in its gut that kills you. A parasite called plasmodium, which is passed on in the saliva of an infected bug each time it takes a new blood meal. The parasites then multiply in your liver before returning to the blood and breaking down the red cells. There comes terrible fever, shivering, pain in your joints; your head aches like it will explode. Slowly your organs are destroyed, the blood vessels in your brain clog up. If you are not treated, you die.’

James felt scared. He hadn’t had any quinine for two days, and there would be no insect repellent left on his skin. He looked at Peter Love-Haight, who looked quickly away and down at the ground.

‘Did you know,’ said Ugo chattily, ‘that it is only the female mosquito that bites you? What do they say? The female is deadlier than the male? Look! Already they come. They detect the carbon dioxide that you breathe out. So if you want to be safe, James, I suggest that you hold your breath until morning.’ Ugo laughed through his nose. ‘I will come back then, and we will see if perhaps you are willing to talk.’

He barked an order and Smiler hustled James forward so that he was right in front of the Count. Smiler held on to his arms, keeping him still.

Jana stepped towards him and tore off the remains of his shirt.

‘Such a shame that your pretty skin will soon be a ruin,’ she said and took a bottle of amber liquid from a bag. ‘They say that mosquitoes like the smell of perfume. They have such good taste, but then, so do you… At least, you will taste good to a bug.’

She sprayed James all over with the sickly, heavy perfume. He coughed and screwed up his eyes to stop them stinging.