a little scared of him. Besides, he was always deep in thought.

Peter didn’t have any friends. Most of the kids thought he was a nerd because they saw his head always buried in books. I didn’t think he even tried to join the rest of us or cared what the others thought of him.

Then on Halloween he surprised us all. As I went down the block trick-or-treating, dressed as a zucchini in my green sweats, I heard a strange, deep voice behind me say, “How do you do?”

I yelped and turned around. Peter was wearing a long black Chinese gown with slits in the sides. On his head he had a little round cap, and down each side of his mouth drooped a thin long mustache.

“I am Dr. Lu Manchu, the mad scientist,” he announced, putting his hands in his sleeves and bowing.

He smiled when he saw me staring at his costume. It was a scary smile, somehow.

Some of the other kids came up, and when they saw Peter, they were impressed. “Hey, neat!” said one boy.

I hadn’t expected Peter to put on a costume and go trick-or-treating like a normal kid. So maybe he did want to join the others after all—at least some of the time. After that night he wasn’t a nerd anymore. He was Dr. Lu Manchu. Even some of the teachers began to call him that.

When we became too old for trick-or-treating, Peter was still Dr. Lu Manchu. The rumor was that he was working on a fantastic machine in his parents’ garage. But nobody had any idea what it was.

One evening, as I was coming home from a baby-sitting job, I cut across the Lus’ backyard. Passing their garage, I saw through a little window that the light was on. My curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked in.