The next morning at breakfast, Francis and Alice were both rather sullen and bleary-eyed. Neither had slept much the previous night. Laura, who did not yet know about the latest development, was her usual cheery self, so Helga did not notice anything amiss.

Francis was relieved when Helga told them that Uncle Vernon had gone into town and would probably be away most of the day. He didn't know how he could face his uncle right now.

"So what shall we do today?" asked Laura. She had recovered well after her ordeal with the poachers, and looked ready for a new adventure. She looked from Francis to Alice. "What exactly is up with you two this morning? You look like you didn't sleep much last night."

"Oh, we're fine," replied Francis, trying to look cheerful but not quite managing. When Helga turned her back, he added in a whisper: "We need to talk. Everybody at the pool in half an hour?"

Laura could see that it was something important that he did not wish to discuss in the kitchen, so she just nodded.

An hour later, she was shaking her head. Francis had told her what he and Alice had witnessed in the early hours of that morning.

"I can't believe this. You must be mistaken."

"If only we were. But what are we supposed to think, Laura? We both saw the rhino horns there. He was talking to two Chinese men, and they were talking about getting rid of the stuff and making money, and he referred to us as little brats. What do you make of that then?"

"I'm afraid Francis is right, Laura," said Alice. "Uncle Vernon is in with a bunch of poachers, and he's helping them to smuggle their wares."

"But why!? He's rich, he's successful, he's famous. Why on earth would he need to do this?" Laura was still shaking her head, unable to believe her ears.

"Who knows, Laura?" asked Francis. "Perhaps he's not as rich as he lets on. Perhaps his paintings don't sell any more. Perhaps he got into gambling. Perhaps he's greedy. Or perhaps he just likes to live dangerously. But we saw what we saw, and we heard what we heard. He's hiding poached rhino horns in that shed, and he is on friendly terms with smugglers."

"The question is," said Alice, "what do we do now?"

"I don't know. We should get help somehow, talk to someone. I can't stay here for almost a week more and just do nothing," said Francis.

"What about Frank?" asked Laura. "Perhaps we can talk to Frank?"

"Frank is in on it."

"You don't know that Francis," protested Alice. "He wasn't there last night, was he?"

"No. But he's in on it. Think about it. Here's a man that can track better than a bloodhound, but he loses the tracks of a bunch of amateurs. And when we ask him about it, he gets all evasive. How could he possibly lose them?"

"I don't know. There could be many reasons."

"Yes, Laura, there could. But that's not all. Yesterday when I was coming towards the pool, he emerged from the shed, looking all startled when he saw me, and then acted very evasively about what he was doing there. In the end he told me he was keeping an eagle owl chick there, and didn't want it to get bothered by people yet. Well, did you see an owl chick there last night, Alice? I sure didn't. No, what he was doing yesterday was to hide the rhino horns there, and when I accidentally walked in on him, he had to come up with a story very fast. He's not much of a liar though."

Francis sat back, feeling bitter. Could no-one on the planet be trusted any more?

"Okay, so Frank is out," said Alice. "What about Helga?"

"Who knows?" said Francis. "I doubt if she is part of it. But she is absolutely loyal to Uncle Vernon. She will simply not believe us, and will probably go tell him the moment she gets a chance. And that leaves no-one, I'm afraid, because we can't get phone reception here either, so we can't call Dad. And what are the chances that he will believe us?"

"Well, that leaves just us then," said Alice. "So we have to decide whether we do anything at all, and if so, what. We could after all simply enjoy the rest of our holiday and pretend nothing at all happened."

"No." Francis was shaking his head emphatically. "I can't just do nothing. We almost got killed two days ago because of what Uncle Vernon did, not to even mention the destruction of the country's wildlife. He's not getting away with this. If you two want to just sit around and do nothing, I will not hold it against you. I really won't, I'll understand. But I'm not letting this go."

"I agree," said Laura. "I want to get to the bottom of this. And there is only one way."

"Okay, I'm in as well," said Alice. "What do you suggest, Laura?"

"We need to get more proof. If we now run off somewhere ranting about rhino horns in the shed, no-one will believe us. Uncle Vernon is a respected member of this community. We need something else, documents, e-mails, whatever. Anything that we can show to someone. Who we should show it to I don't know yet, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Good idea," said Francis. "But what would you suggest we do?"

"Yesterday when we watched him paint, you saw a letter on the little table in his studio. You said it looked like it was from China. I bet that was from his smuggling contacts there."

"Now that's a good idea, Laura!" said Francis. "Yes, he did grab that thing awfully fast and hid it away in his pocket, didn't he? I just wonder where we will get hold of it now?"

"I think I know," said Alice. "I think he put it in his study. He always keeps the door locked though. No wonder, if he keeps all his dirty little secrets there. We have to find a way to get into his study."

"Not really a problem," said Laura. "Look, you can see his study from here. The window is open."

Uncle Vernon's study was at the back of the house. Its window was visible from where they sat at the pool, above dense shrubs and flowerbeds.

"I'll just need someone to lift me up there, then I can slip in and look around," Laura continued. "You two can keep watch outside."

"Okay, let's do it," said Francis, getting up. "I don't know when Uncle Vernon will be back, but we'll stay outside, right at the window. We'll hear the car if he comes back, and then we can warn you."

They walked towards the office window, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. When they reached the shrubbery below the window, they glanced around to make sure no-one was watching, then quickly slipped into it.

Francis and Alice clasped their hands together, forming a step. Then they lifted Laura to the edge of the window. She put her hands on the window sill, then drew herself up onto it. A moment later, she landed like a cat on the floor.

Uncle Vernon's study was a smallish room, cluttered with papers, pens, computer, telephone and all the other bits and pieces that accumulate in such a space over the years. Against one wall stood a large, dilapidated old sofa, and in the corner was an old-fashioned metal filing cabinet. Next to it, in shining contrast, was a new photocopier.

On the wall was a painting of a handsome young man, clean shaven, looking out at the viewer with cheerful confidence. A self-portrait of Uncle Vernon, painted many years before.

Laura looked at it and sighed. How could you have turned into a criminal, she wondered, looking at the painting with sadness.

Then she shook her head. She was not here to reminisce or philosophise. She was looking for evidence. Whatever it was, she was sure she would recognize it when she saw it. She walked to the filing cabinet and tried the drawers one by one. They were all locked.

The key has to be in here somewhere, she thought. I doubt if he keeps it with him all the time. Her glance fell on the table. It was strewn with papers, documents, phone bills, and little doodles and drawings made on scraps of paper. She decided to look through these first. Perhaps what she was looking for was not locked away; after all, he kept the office itself locked.

Laura began to systematically look through the papers on the table. It was not easy, because the table was virtually covered with them, and she had to be careful to put everything back more or less as she found it. She doubted if Uncle Vernon would make a point of remembering the exact layout of his table, but with his artist's eye, he might well notice if anything was out of place when he returned. She leafed through the stacks of documents.

Nothing.

There were letters from galleries, an old telephone bill, a shopping list, a budget for the farm, and even a caricature of the president. But nothing that looked remotely out of place.

Then, right at the bottom of a stack of old invitations to an art exhibition, she saw something that aroused her interest. It might, or might not, have been the letter Francis had seen in their uncle's studio. Either way, she picked it up and felt her heart beating faster.

Shanghai Imports, proclaimed a logo at the top of the document. Below it, what appeared to be an address written in Chinese script. It was a letter head.

Dear Mr Kruger, Laura began to read. I am pleased to inform you that your terms are satisfying to me. Your commission of R400 000 will be paid in cash upon receipt of merchandise.

You will be informed of further arrangements.

Yours faithfully

Chang.

This was something! Of course, it did not say what exactly the 'merchandise' consisted of. But Laura had little doubt that it referred to the rhino horns, or perhaps other smuggled wildlife products. At R400 000! To someone in financial trouble, such an amount would certainly be quite a little windfall, she thought grimly.

But what to do now? She couldn't steal the letter, because Uncle Vernon would surely miss it. A photo, she thought. I need to take a photo.

Even though there was no reception in the area, Laura still had her cell phone with her simply out of habit. She took it out and used its camera to take a picture of the document. Then she shook her head. The picture was fuzzy and small, and she did not have a computer to download it to.

What I need is a photocopier, she thought. At the same moment, her eye fell on Uncle Vernon's brand new copier in the corner of the office.

Outside, waiting below the window, both Francis and Alice were getting drowsy. Their sleepless night was beginning to catch up with them. At first, they had been discussing what Laura might find in the office, and had eagerly waited for her to return with armloads of evidence. But as the minutes dragged on, they said less and less.

The day was pleasantly warm. Rather like Saturday afternoons at home, Alice thought. The morning's weekly shopping done, everything would settle down, and usually, on summer afternoons, Dr. Lawrence would be out pottering in the garden. The lawnmower would start up, its even drone mingling with the pleasant aroma of freshly cut grass. It made you ever more drowsy, until its door slammed shut and...

Alice jerked awake. A lawnmower does not have a door, she thought incoherently. Then she heard the shed's door close. Uncle Vernon was home! She realized she must have heard the car in her sleep, and it made her dream of the sound of a lawnmower. Next to her, Francis was sitting still, his head on his knees.

"Francis!" she whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up! We fell asleep, and Uncle Vernon is back!"

He sat bolt upright, shook his head, and then they both carefully stood up. They could not see the shed's door from where they were. But Uncle Vernon was surely already in the house by this time.

Francis grabbed hold of the window sill and hoisted himself up on it.

"Hey, Laura! Uncle Vernon is here! Get out!"

Laura didn't hear his urgent whisper. She was standing with her back to the window, using the photocopier to make a copy of the document she had found. The machine was noisy, and she was concentrating on her task.

She heard a key click into the lock of the study's door.

How did this happen? Why didn't they warn me?

There was no time to speculate. In a panic, she looked around the office. The door started to swing open. Laura dove behind the old sofa against the wall, and sat still.

The photocopier! It was just completing its copy. It gave a few final whirs and clicks, and then fell silent.

The door opened and Uncle Vernon walked in. Laura heard him opening a drawer in the table, then walk to the filing cabinet, where he unlocked a drawer and took out something. He paused. He was standing right next to the photocopier, the copy of the document lying in its tray. Had he noticed something?

Laura couldn't stand the suspense, and carefully looked out from behind the sofa. Uncle Vernon was looking at a document in his hands, deep in thought. He had not noticed anything amiss. Yet. She heaved a little sigh and shifted back into her hiding place.

Uncle Vernon went to sit behind his desk, and started to dial a number on the phone.

"It's me," he said to someone on the other side. "Yes, I'm confirming. You can pick it up at the time we discussed."

He listened for a few seconds. "No, they know nothing and they suspect nothing," he said. "See you then."

He replaced the phone. Then he just sat quietly, for a long moment.

Laura felt something move on her hand. She glanced down, and saw a huge, hairy spider slowly crawling onto her hand. She wasn't really scared of spiders, and knew they would not harm her unless provoked. But this particular one was now crawling up her arm.

Uncle Vernon was apparently writing something. She could hear a pen scratch on paper. The spider was sitting perched on her shoulder, waving its forelegs around in the air. Then it started moving towards her neck. Her legs were beginning to get cramped from sitting still in the same position.

Uncle Vernon sighed and stretched out his legs. The spider was progressing across Laura's right ear, towards her face. It tickled, and she had to use all her willpower to remain quiet. When it started crawling over her nose, she could stand it no longer, and slightly shook her head. She bumped against the edge of the couch, and it slightly creaked.

At that same moment, however, Uncle Vernon got up. He walked to the filing cabinet, replaced his document, locked the cabinet and then left the office, locking the door behind him again.

The spider was still perched on Laura's face. She sneezed explosively, sending it flying halfway across the room, from where it scuttled into a corner.

She sighed with relief, and then quickly went to the photocopier. She grabbed the copy she had made, and then replaced the original where she found it. Then she scrambled out the window, landing in the shrubbery between Francis and Alice.

Pins and needles burned in her feet, but she grinned when she saw their anxious faces.

"Found something," she said with a nonchalance she didn't quite feel, and held out the copy she had made.