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were gone.
    They managed to get across the yard and back to their cottage without Mom and Dad noticing a thing. It was a small thing, their ability to get around without attracting attention, but it had the adeptness of a skill acquired with practice. It was the same as the way they had so thoroughly 'Searched the house, working efficiently—another -acquired skill. As I went over it in my mind, I began to realize that they really hadn't missed a single cupboard or closet. |v Yet it was hard to believe that they were thieves.
    If that was the case, they were too good to waste time at a dump like this, where there was obviously nothing of much value and only one family to steal from. Thieves with their apparent expertise would be working large and expensive resorts, where the booty would be worth something.
    But if they weren't thieves, then what were they?
    From the dining room window I watched the neighbors greet Mom and Dad from their front patio, where they were already relaxing by the time Mom and Dad reached it. They spoke pleasantly together, until the neighbors got up and went inside.
    ". . . so impressive, that deep sense of commitment, don't you think?" Mom was saying, as they came into the house. "But they're such cheerful young men, not at all stuffy. I'll bet they're doctors. That's why they give that impression of social responsibility."
    "Not just the men," Dad said. "The girl seemed so involved in the problem of poverty, so deeply concerned. But charming at the same time. I'll bet she's a doctor too."
    "Probably a social worker—she doesn't seem as bright as the men."
    I was amazed. Mom and Dad weren't stupid, yet their impression of the neighbors was totally out of whack. Responsibility? Concern with poverty? I wanted to scream with laughter. But I kept quiet.
    I would take advantage of the neighbors' invitation and visit them this afternoon. But this time I would turn the tables; this time I would be the one to find out about them.
    But when I went over an hour or so later there was no answer to my knock. The house was empty, and unlocked. For a moment I felt hurt that they had forgotten their invitation and gone off without
    me. Then I saw I was being silly; they had provided me with exactly the opportunity I wanted. I felt a prickling of excitement—I hadn't expected the situation to be reversed quite this neatly. It was like some funny game of taking turns, and I barely hesitated on the threshold.
    And now I wonder: How differently would things have ended if I hadn't found what I did that day?

5
    In the bright sunlight, their cheap little cottage was about as sinister as a dairy bar, which was actually what it looked like from the outside. The inside, with its linoleums and plastic furniture and picture windows, was equally eerie. If the place really had been dark and mysterious, I probably wouldn't have had the nerve to sneak inside at all. As it was, the fact that I was secretly entering someone else's place to try to search out information about them was exciting enough. And I didn't even have to feel guilty. They were the ones who had started it, after all; they were only getting what they deserved.
    There was not much to poke into in the barren living room. A chartreuse plastic easy chair squatted on one side of the fireplace, a maroon one on the other side, and facing it, a pink painted wicker love seat, beginning to unravel. The square wooden dining table with captain's chairs around it was placed beside the largest window overlooking the water. The board game was no longer on the table, or anywhere else to be found. I was disappointed. I had been looking forward to examining it.
    I leafed quickly through the books and periodicals on the mantel and tabletop—collections of horror stories, the Sunday New York Times, People magazine, some lurid mysteries, a large illustrated paperback about windsurfing. Nothing to learn there.
    The kitchen was smaller and more primitive than ours, the haphazard