But they weren't eyes, they were the standby lights from a fortune in electronics that would soon be safely in our bags.

"I'll go first," said Toby. "Give me a leg up." He raised his foot but I didn't move.

"I'm not touching that," I said, looking at the giant clumps of mud and crap that looked like they'd been welded to his sneaker. "Why don't you give me a foot up."

He sighed and linked his two hands together to form a cradle. Bracing my foot in his grip, I pushed upward, getting one knee on the window frame and pulling myself inside. Scanning the dark interior to make sure it was empty, I skipped down onto the floor, not making a sound on the soft carpet.

Toby was at the window holding two duffel bags and I took them from him before grabbing his arm and hoisting him up. He was almost in when his soiled shoe slipped on the wood of the window frame. With a yelp that was deafening after the tense silence, he fell on me, sending us and a nearby plant stand crashing to the floor.

For a second, neither of us could move a muscle. I lay there with Toby's weight on top of me, barely able to hear anything over my thrashing heart. But there was no sound of slamming doors or terrified screams or feet trampling down the stairs. At least we knew for sure now that the house was empty-Toby's clumsiness would have woken the dead.

Pushing him off me, I got to my feet and picked up my bag, offering Toby a hand.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly, pulling himself up.

"Never mind, you lump," I replied. "You start putting away some of this electronic stuff, I'm gonna go find the cash."