He was almost at the bottom of the trunk when he found what he was looking for and drew it out, squinting: a black-and-white paper photograph mounted on hard cardboard.  An object that really shouldn’t have existed, and wouldn’t if Henry had not been obsessed with photography.  Magnus could picture him now, ducking in and out from beneath his photographer’s hood, racing the wet plates to the darkroom he’d set up in the crypt to develop the film, shouting at his photographic subjects to keep still.  Those were the days when in order to render an accurate photograph, one had to remain motionless for minutes at the time.  Not easy, Magnus thought, the corner of his mouth flicking up, for the crew of the London Institute. ~ Magnus’s Vow. (click photo to enlarge)