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ordered. “I have a plan.”
    â€œDoesn’t anybody know I’ve been throwing up?” Maisie cried. “I could have died in here and no one would even care.”
    â€œPshaw,” Great-Aunt Maisie said. “Stop being so melodramatic and get up this instant.”
    â€œFine,” Maisie said, throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed.
    Great-Aunt Maisie frowned at her. “What in the world are you wearing?” she demanded.
    Maisie looked down at her plaid pajama bottoms and Mets fleece vest.
    â€œYou cannot go looking like that,” Great-Aunt Maisie said, her voice dripping with distaste.
    â€œWhere are we going?” Maisie said.
    â€œThat’s for me to know and you to find out.”
    Maisie rolled her eyes. “Honestly,” she muttered.
    But she dutifully went into the walk-in closet and changed from her pajamas into her jeans and an old peasant blouse she’d rescued from her mother’s giveaway bag when they were moving from New York. The blouse was white and scoop-necked and flowy, with red and yellow and black flowers embroidered along the bottom. Her mother had bought it in Mexico on her honeymoon. Maisie stepped into her black flip-flops and went back to Great-Aunt Maisie.
    â€œSatisfied?” she said.
    Great-Aunt Maisie sniffed. “You look like a ragamuffin, but I guess it’ll do.”
    She grabbed Maisie’s arm and led her out into the hall.
    â€œWe have to be quiet,” she whispered as they tiptoed across the hall.
    At the wall that hid the stairs to The Treasure Chest, Great-Aunt Maisie paused.
    â€œYou and I are going on an adventure,” she said.
    Maisie smiled. Going on an adventure with Great-Aunt Maisie was the perfect way to escape her mother’s date with Bruce Fishbaum, having to be Felix’s assistant at Talent Night, all of it.
    â€œExcellent,” Maisie said.
    Great-Aunt Maisie pressed her palm to the wall. It opened easily, and she took Maisie’s hand in hers like they were best friends. They made sure the wall closed behind them. At the foot of the secret stairs, Great-Aunt Maisie reached into her white, fringed purse and pulled out the handcuffs.
    Maisie gasped. “You took those from The Treasure Chest?”
    Great-Aunt Maisie grinned at her. “In a way,” she said. “I’ve had them for over eighty years.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’ll explain upstairs,” Great-Aunt Maisie said. “There’s no time for chitchat. Who knows what Thorne is up to, that dog.”
    Maisie followed her great-aunt up the stairs.
    But at the top, Great-Aunt Maisie stopped abruptly.
    â€œDamnation!”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Maisie asked, trying to see past her.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Great-Aunt Maisie said, stepping aside.
    Maisie looked in disbelief.
    The door to The Treasure Chest was closed. Heavy chains hung across it, and three padlocks gleamed from them.
    â€œIt’s locked!” Maisie said.
    Great-Aunt Maisie lifted her fist into the air. Her eyes seemed to be on fire and her face contorted with wrath.
    â€œThorne!” she said. “Irascible, impossible idiot! Thorne!”

Felix sat in the Samuel Dormitorio Room—he found it hard to think of it as
his room
instead of Samuel’s Dormitorio—practicing his magic act for the Talent Show the next night. At least he tried to practice. Somewhere downstairs his mother was waiting for Bruce Fishbaum to drive up in his BMW and take her on a date. An actual date. Felix did not . . . no, he
could
not witness any part of this.
    Earlier, he’d seen his mother bustle past with shopping bags, smelling like she’d tried on every perfume they offered at the Macy’s perfume counter. Her cheeks looked flushed, and her hair looked freshly styled. She’d smiled at him, but he pretended he didn’t notice any of it: the shopping bags, the blown-out hair, the smile.