Think I'll check the chickens before I turn in."
My mother clicked her tongue with annoyance.
"You concentrate on sheep, son," she said. "There's good money in sheep."
My mother always liked to have the last word.
One evening during the winter holidays while Frikkie was at a scout meeting, my father was reading the paper in front of the fire. Suddenly he gave a loud exclamation and snorted with laughter.
"Listen to this!" he exclaimed. "Those clever buggers have started using tortoises for smuggling diamonds!"
"Bloody marvellous!" chuckled my father.
The same thought struck us all simultaneously.
Da Silva. Diamonds. Could he have ...?
It was night time, as cold and dark as only a Karroo night can be. I fetched a flashlight from the garage and we walked out into the back garden, the frosted grass crunching underfoot. We found the rounded shape of da Silva under a pile of hay in his box. I felt a bit doubtful. If da Silva had been harbouring any diamonds for all these years surely we would have noticed it?