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sort of normal-sized. Each time they turned around, the walls seemed to have shifted. There were books and papers everywhere, piled on the floor, on tables, stacked on shelves. There were cabinets crammed with various-sized bottles and long brass instruments with dials and screws. Kate found a globe, but as she turned it, the countries seemed to change, assuming shapes she didn’t recognize.
    Had the lamps been lit or the fire burning, Kate might have recognized the room sooner. As it was, she simply stumbled about in the darkness, counting the seconds till they could leave.
    “Look at this,” Emma said. She was standing in front of a row of jars, pointing to one in particular. Kate leaned in close. A tiny lizard with long claws hung suspended in amber liquid. Folded onto the lizard’s back was a pair of papery wings.
    Across the room, Michael raised his camera. Just as he snapped the picture, he heard Kate behind him, saying something that sounded like “Oh no.”
    His camera spat out the photo, and Michael waved it dry, blinking to erase the spots from his vision. He’d taken a picture of an old book he’d found on the desk. It was bound in green leather, and all the pages were blank.
    Kate hurried up, dragging a protesting Emma.
    “We have to get out of here.”
    “Look.” He used one hand to flip through the book. “All the pages are empty. Like it’s been wiped clean.”
    “Michael, we shouldn’t be here. I’m not kidding.”
    His photo was dry, so Michael slipped it into his notebook. As he did so, he found the photo Abraham had given them the night before showing the lake with the village in the distance.
    “Are you listening to me?” Kate asked. “We shouldn’t be here.”
    “Let go!” Emma was struggling in Kate’s grasp.
    “You said five minutes. Anyway, it’s just someone’s study. This is probably an old photo album. See?”
    As Michael reached down with Abraham’s photo, Kate took hold of his arm. She was saying something. Something about a dream she’d had. But the instant Abraham’s photo touched the blank page, the floor disappeared beneath their feet.

CHAPTER FOUR
The Countess of Cambridge Falls

    “This is—oh boy—I mean, we must’ve—”
    “Michael, are you okay?”
    “—there’s no other—I mean, it happened, right, we—”
    “Michael—”
    “—oh boy—”
    “Michael!”
    “What?”
    “Are you okay?”
    “Am I—I mean, yes, I’m fine.”
    “Emma?”
    “I’m okay. I think.”
    They were on the shores of a large, smooth lake. In the distance, chimneys and the peaked roofs of houses rose above the pine trees. It was a cloudless summer day. Kate could smell the flowers blooming.
    “What … happened?” Emma asked. “Where are we?”
    “I can answer that.” Michael’s face was flushed with excitement, his words tumbling all over themselves. “We’re in Abraham’s picture! Well, not in the actual picture itself; that would be ridiculous”—he allowed himself a quick chuckle—“we’ve been transported to the time and place the photo was taken.”
    Emma stared at him. “Huh?”
    “Don’t you see? It’s magic! It has to be!”
    “There’s no such thing!”
    “Really? Then how’d we get here?”
    Emma looked about and, seeing no clear way to argue, wisely changed the subject. “So where are we, then?”
    “Cambridge Falls, of course!”
    “Ha! There’s a big giant lake out there! And trees and stuff! Cambridge Falls looks like the moon!” She was pleased to prove him wrong about something.
    “I mean before! The way it used to look! You didn’t see the picture! This is it exactly! I put it in the book, and now we’re here! Wait—the book! Where—”
    The book, its cover now deep emerald in the sun, lay on the ground a foot or so away. Michael snatched it up and quickly flipped through the pages.
    “The picture’s gone! But it really did bring us here!” Grinning hugely, Michael slid the book into his bag and gave it a pat.