ASeriesofUnfortunateEvents6-TheErsatzElevator

ASeriesofUnfortunateEvents

ASeriesofUnfortunateEvents

BooktheSixth

TheErsatzElevator

LemonySnicket

CHAPTER

One

Thebookyouareholdinginyourtwohandsrightnow-assumingthatyouare,infact,holdingthisbook,andthatyouhaveonlytwohands—isoneoftwobooksintheworld thatwill showyou thedifferencebetween theword“nervous”and theword“anxious.”Theotherbook,ofcourse,isthedictionary,andifIwereyouIwouldreadthatbookinstead.

Likethisbook,thedictionaryshowsyouthattheword“nervous”means“worried

about something”—youmight feel nervous, for instance, if youwere servedpruneice cream for dessert, because you would be worried that it would taste awful—whereas the word “anxious” means “troubled by disturbing suspense,” which youmight feel if you were served a live alligator for dessert, because you would betroubledby thedisturbingsuspenseaboutwhetheryouwouldeatyourdessertor itwouldeatyou.Butunlikethisbook,thedictionaryalsodiscusseswordsthatarefarmorepleasanttocontemplate.Theword“bubble”isinthedictionary,forinstance,asis the word “peacock,” the word “vacation,” and the words “the” “author’s”“execution” “has” “been” “canceled,” which make up a sentence that is alwayspleasant to hear. So if youwere to read the dictionary, rather than this book, youcould skip the parts about “nervous” and “anxious” and read about things thatwouldn’tkeepyouupallnightlong,weepingandtearingoutyourhair.

But this book is not the dictionary, and if you were to skip the parts about“nervous” and “anxious” in this book, you would be skipping the most pleasantsectionsintheentirestory.Nowhereinthisbookwillyoufindthewords“bubble,”“peacock,”“vacation,”or,unfortunately forme,anythingaboutanexecutionbeingcanceled. Instead, I’m sorry to say, youwill find thewords “grief, ”despair,“ and”woeful“ aswell as the phrases ”dark passageway,“ ”CountOlaf in disguise,“ and”theBaudelaireorphanswere trapped,”plusanassortmentofmiserablewordsandphrasesthatIcannotbringmyselftowritedown.Inshort,readingadictionarymightmakeyoufeelnervous,becauseyouwouldworryabout finding itveryboring,butreading thisbookwillmakeyou feel anxious,becauseyouwillbe troubledby thedisturbingsuspense inwhich theBaudelaireorphansfind themselves,andif IwereyouIwoulddropthisbookrightoutofyourtwoormorehandsandcurlupwithadictionary instead, because all the miserable words I must use to describe theseunfortunateeventsareabouttoreachyoureyes.

“I imagineyoumustbenervous,”Mr.Poesaid.Mr.PoewasabankerwhohadbeenputinchargeoftheBaudelaireorphansfollowingthedeathoftheirparentsinahorriblefire.IamsorrytosaythatMr.Poehadnotdoneaverygoodjobsofar,andthattheBaudelaireshadlearnedthattheonlythingtheycouldrelyonwithMr.Poewasthathealwayshadacough.Sureenough,assoonashefinishedhissentence,hetookouthiswhitehandkerchiefandcoughedintoit.

The flash ofwhite cottonwas practically the only thing theBaudelaire orphanscould see. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were standing with Mr. Poe in front of anenormousapartmentbuildingonDarkAvenue,astreetinoneofthefanciestdistrictsin the city. Although Dark Avenue was just a few blocks away from where theBaudelairemansionhadbeen,thethreechildrenhadneverbeeninthisneighborhoodbefore,andtheyhadassumedthatthe“dark”inDarkAvenuewassimplyanameandnothing more, the way a street named George Washington Boulevard does notnecessarily indicate thatGeorgeWashington lives thereor thewaySixthStreethasnotbeendividedintosixequalparts.ButthisafternoontheBaudelairesrealizedthatDarkAvenuewasmorethananame.Itwasanappropriatedescription.Ratherthanstreet-lamps,placedatregularintervalsalongthesidewalkwereenormoustreesthelikesofwhichthechildrenhadneverseenbefore—andwhichtheycouldscarcelyseenow.Highaboveathickandpricklytrunk, thebranchesof thetreesdroopeddown

likelaundryhungouttodry,spreadingtheirwide,flatleavesoutineverydirection,likealow,leafyceilingovertheBaudelaires’heads.Thisceilingblockedoutallthelightfromabove,soeventhoughitwasthemiddleoftheafternoon,thestreetlookedasdarkasevening—ifabitgreener.Itwashardlyagoodwaytomakethreeorphansfeelwelcomeastheyapproachedtheirnewhome.

“Youhavenothing tobenervousabout,”Mr.Poe said,puttinghishandkerchiefback inhispocket. “I realize someofyourpreviousguardianshavecauseda littletrouble,butIthinkMr.andMrs.Squalorwillprovideyouwithaproperhome.”

“We’renotnervous,”Violetsaid.“We’retooanxioustobenervous.”

“‘Anxious’and‘nervous’meanthesamething,”Mr.Poesaid.“Andwhatdoyouhavetobeanxiousabout,anyway?”

“CountOlaf,ofcourse,”Violetreplied.Violetwasfourteen,whichmadehertheeldestBaudelairechildandtheonewhowasmost likelytospeakuptoadults.Shewasasuperbinventor,andIamcertainthatifshehadnotbeensoanxious,shewouldhavetiedherhairupinaribbontokeepitoutofhereyeswhileshethoughtofaninventionthatcouldbrightenuphersurroundings.

“Count Olaf?”Mr. Poe said dismissively. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll neverfindyouhere.”

Thethreechildrenlookedatoneanotherandsighed.CountOlafhadbeenthefirstguardianMr.Poehadfoundfortheorphans,andhewasapersonasshadyasDarkAvenue .Hehadone longeyebrow,a tattooofaneyeonhisankle,and twofilthyhands that hehoped to use to snatch away theBaudelaire fortune that theorphanswouldinheritassoonasVioletcameofage.ThechildrenhadconvincedMr.Poetoremove them fromOlaf’s care, but since then the count had pursued themwith adoggeddetermination,aphrasewhichheremeans“everywhere theywent, thinkinguptreacherousschemesandwearingdisguisestotrytofoolthethreechildren.”

“It’shardnot toworryaboutOlaf,”Klaussaid, takingoffhisglasses tosee if itwaseasiertolookaroundthegloomwithoutthem,“becausehehasourcompatriotsin his clutches.”AlthoughKlaus, themiddle Baudelaire, was only twelve, he hadread somany books that he frequently used words like “compatriots,” which is afancyword for “friends.”Klauswas referring to theQuagmire triplets, whom theBaudelaireshadmetwhile theywereattendingboardingschool.DuncanQuagmirewas a reporter, and was always writing down useful information in his notebook.IsadoraQuagmirewasapoet,andusedhernotebooktowritepoetry.Thethirdtriplet,Quigley,haddiedinafirebeforetheBaudelaireorphanshadtheopportunitytomeethim,buttheBaudelaireswerecertainthathewouldhavebeenasgoodafriendashissiblings.LiketheBaudelaires,theQuagmireswereorphans,havinglosttheirparentsin thesamefire thatclaimed theirbrother’s life,andalso like theBaudelaires , theQuagmireshadbeenleftanenormousfortune,intheformofthefamousQuagmiresapphires,whichwereveryrareandvaluablejewels.ButunliketheBaudelaires,theyhad not been able to escape Count Olaf’s clutches. Just when the Quagmires hadlearnedsometerriblesecretaboutOlaf,hehadsnatchedthemaway,andsincethentheBaudelaireshadbeensoworriedthat theyhadscarcelysleptawink.Whenever

they closed their eyes, they saw only the long, black car that had whisked theQuagmires away, and they heard only the sound of their friends shrieking onefragment of the dreadful secret they had learned. “V.F.D.!”Duncan had screamed,justbeforethecarracedaway,andtheBaudelairestossedandturned,andworriedfortheirfriends,andwonderedwhatintheworldV.F.D.couldstandfor.

“Youdon’thavetoworryabouttheQuagmires,either,”Mr.Poesaidconfidently.“Atleast,notformuchlonger.Idon’tknowifyouhappenedtoreadtheMulctuaryMoneyManagementnewsletter,butIhavesomeverygoodnewsaboutyourfriends.”

“Gavu?” Sunny asked. Sunny was the youngest Baudelaire orphan, and thesmallest,too.Shewasscarcelylargerthanasalami.Thissizewasusualforherage,but she had four teeth thatwere larger and sharper than those of any other baby Ihaveeverseen.Despitethematurityofhermouth,however,Sunnyusuallytalkedinawaymostpeoplefounddifficulttounderstand.By“Gavu,”forinstance,shemeantsomething along the lines of “TheQuagmires have been found and rescued?” andVioletwasquick to translate soMr.Poewouldunderstand. “Better than that,”Mr.Poesaid.“Ihavebeenpromoted. Iamnowthebank’sVicePresident inChargeofOrphanAffairs.ThatmeansthatIaminchargenotonlyofyoursituation,butoftheQuagmiresituationaswell.IpromiseyouthatIwillconcentrateagreatdealofmyenergyonfindingtheQuagmiresandreturningthemtosafety,ormynameisn’t”—hereMr.Poeinterruptedhimselftocoughoncemoreintohishandkerchief,andtheBaudelaireswaitedpatientlyuntilhefinished—“Poe.Now,assoonasIdropyouoffhere I am taking a three-week helicopter ride to a mountain peak where theQuagmiresmayhavebeenspotted. Itwillbeverydifficult to reachmeduring thattime,as thehelicopterhasnophone,but Iwillcallyouassoonas Igetbackwithyouryoungpals.Now,canyouseethenumberonthisbuilding?It’shardformetotellifwe’reattherightplace.”

“Ithinkitsays667,”Klaussaid,squintinginthedimgreenlight.

“Then we’re here,”Mr. Poe said. “Mr. andMrs. Squalor live in the penthouseapartmentof667DarkAvenue.Ithinkthedoorishere.”

“No, it’s over here,” said a high, scratchy voice out of the darkness. TheBaudelairesjumpedalittleinsurprise,andturnedtoseeamanwearingahatwithawidebrimandacoatthatwasmuchtoobigforhim.Thecoatsleeveshungoverhishands,covering themcompletely,and thebrimofhishatcoveredmostofhis face.Hewassodifficulttoseethatitwasnowonderthatthechildrenhadn’tspottedhimearlier.“Mostofourvisitorsfindithardtospotthedoor,”themansaid.“That’swhytheyhiredadoorman.”

“Well, I’m glad they did,” Mr. Poe said. “My name is Poe, and I have anappointmentwithMr.andMrs.Squalortodropofftheirnewchildren.”

“Oh,yes,”thedoormansaid.“Theytoldmeyouwerecoming.Comeonin.”

Thedoormanopenedthedoorofthebuildingandshowedtheminsidetoaroomthatwasasdarkasthestreet.Insteadoflights,therewereonlyafewcandlesplacedon the floor, and the children could scarcely tellwhether itwas a large roomor asmallroomtheywerestandingin.

“My,it’sdarkinhere,”Mr.Poesaid.“Whydon’tyouaskyouremployerstobringinagoodstronghalogenlamp?”

“Wecan’t,”thedoormanreplied.“Rightnow,darkisin.”

“Inwhat?”Violetasked.

“Just ‘in’,” the doorman explained. “Around here, people decide whethersomethingisin,whichmeansit’sstylishandappealing,orout,whichmeansit’snot.Anditchangesallthetime.Why,justacoupleofweeksago,darkwasout,andlightwasin,andyoushouldhaveseenthisneighborhood.Youhadtowearsunglassesallthetimeoryou’dhurtyoureyes.”

“Darkisin,huh?”Mr.Poesaid.“WaituntilItellmywife.Inthemeantime,couldyou show us where the elevator is? Mr. and Mrs. Squalor live in the penthouseapartment,andIdon’twanttowalkallthewaytothetopfloor.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to,” the doorman said. “There’s a pair of elevatordoorsrightoverthere,buttheywon’tbeofanyusetoyou.”

“Is the elevator out of order?” Violet asked. “I’m very good with mechanicaldevices,andI’dbehappytotakealookatit.”

“That’saverykindandunusualoffer,” thedoormansaid.“But theelevator isn’toutoforder.It’sjustout.Theneighborhooddecidedthatelevatorswereout,sotheyhadtheelevatorshutdown.Stairsarein,though,sothere’sstillawaytogettothepenthouse.Letmeshowyou.”

Thedoormanledthewayacrossthelobby,andtheBaudelaireorphanspeeredupat a very long, curved staircase made of wood, with a metal banister that curvedalongside.Every fewsteps, theycouldsee, somebodyhadplacedmorecandles, sothe staircase looked like nothing more than curves of flickering lights, growingdimmeras thestaircasewent fartherandfartherup,until theycouldseenothingatall.

“I’veneverseenanythinglikethis,”Klaussaid.

“Itlooksmorelikeacavethanastaircase,”Violetsaid.

“Pinse!”Sunnysaid,whichmeantsomethinglike“Orouterspace!”

“It looks like a long walk to me,” Mr. Poe said, frowning. He turned to thedoorman.“Howmanyfloorsupdoesthisstaircasego?”

The doorman’s shoulders shrugged underneath his oversized coat. “I can’tremember,”hesaid.“Ithinkit’sforty-eight,butitmightbeeighty-four.”

“Ididn’tknowbuildingscouldbethathigh,”Klaussaid.

“Well,whetherit’sforty-eightoreighty-four,”Mr.Poesaid,“Idon’thavetimetowalkyouchildrenall thewayup. I’llmissmyhelicopter.You’llhave togoupbyyourselves,andtellMr.andMrs.SqualorthatIsendmyregards.”

“Wehavetowalkupbyourselves?”Violetsaid.

“Justbegladyoudon’thaveanyofyour thingswithyou,”Mr.Poe said. “Mrs.

Squalorsaid therewasnoreason tobringanyofyouroldclothing,andI think it’sbecauseshewantedtosaveyoutheeffortofdraggingsuitcasesupallthosestairs.”

“You’renotgoingtocomewithus?”Klausasked.

“Isimplydon’thavethetimetoaccompanyyou,”Mr.Poesaid,“andthatisthat.”

TheBaudelaireslookedatoneanother.Thechildrenknew,asI’msureyouknow,that there is usually no reason to be afraid of the dark, but even if you are notparticularlyafraidofsomething,youmightnotwant togetnear it,andtheorphanswereabitnervousaboutclimbingallthewayuptothepenthousewithoutanadultwalkingbesidethem.

“Ifyou’reafraidofthedark,”Mr.Poesaid,“IsupposeIcoulddelaymysearchfortheQuagmires,andtakeyoutoyournewguardians.”

“No, no,” Klaus said quickly. “We’re not afraid of the dark, and finding theQuagmiresismuchmoreimportant.”

“Obog,”Sunnysaiddoubtfully.

“Justtrytocrawlaslongasyoucan,”Violetsaidtohersister,“andthenKlausandIwilltaketurnscarryingyou.Good-bye,Mr.Poe.”

“Good-bye, children,”Mr.Poe said. “If there’s anyproblem, rememberyoucanalways contactme or any ofmy associates atMulctuaryMoneyManagement—atleast,assoonasIgetoffthehelicopter.”

“There’sonegoodthingaboutthisstaircase,”thedoormanjoked,startingtowalkMr.Poebacktothefrontdoor.“It’salluphillfromhere.”

TheBaudelaireorphanslistenedtothedoorman’schucklesashedisappearedintothe darkness, and they walked up the first few steps. As I’m sure you know, theexpression “It’s all uphill from here” has nothing to dowithwalking up stairs—itmerelymeans that thingswillgetbetter in the future.Thechildrenhadunderstoodthejoke,but theyweretooanxioustolaugh.TheywereanxiousaboutCountOlaf,whomight find them anyminute.Theywere anxious about theQuagmire triplets,whomtheymightneverseeagain.Andnow,astheybegantowalkupthecandlelitstairway, theywereanxiousabout theirnewguardians.They tried to imaginewhatsortofpeoplewouldliveonsuchadarkstreet,insuchadarkbuilding,andatthetopofeitherforty-eightoreighty-fourflightsofverydarkstairs.Theyfounditdifficulttobelievethatthingswouldgetbetterinthefuturewhentheylivedinsuchgloomyandpoorlylitsurroundings.Eventhoughalong,upwardclimbawaitedthem,astheBaudelaire orphans started walking into the darkness, they were too anxious tobelieveitwasalluphillfromhere.

CHAPTER

Two

Inorder togetabetter senseofexactlyhow theBaudelaireorphans feltas theybegan the grueling journey up the stairs to Mr. and Mrs. Squalor’s penthouse

apartment, you might find it useful to close your eyes as you read this chapter,because the lightwassodimfromthesmallcandleson theground that it feltas iftheireyeswereclosedevenwhentheywerelookingashardastheycould.Ateachcurveinthestaircase,therewasadoorthatledtotheapartmentoneachfloor,andapairofslidingelevatordoors.Frombehindtheslidingdoors,theyoungstersofcourseheard nothing, as the elevator had been shut down, but behind the doors to theapartments the children could hear the noises of peoplewho lived in the building.Whentheyreachedtheseventhfloor,theyheardtwomenlaughassomebodytoldajoke. When they reached the twelfth floor, they heard the splashing of water assomebodytookabath.Whentheyreachedthenineteenthfloor,theyheardawomansay“Letthemeatcake”inavoicewithastrangeaccent.

“Iwonderwhat peoplewill hearwhen theywalk by the penthouse apartment,”Violetwonderedoutloud,“whenwearelivingthere.”

“Ihope theyhearme turningpages,”Klaus said. “MaybeMr. andMrs.Squalorwillhavesomeinterestingbookstoread.”

“Ormaybepeoplewillhearmeusingawrench,”Violetsaid.“IhopetheSqualorshavesometoolsthey’dletmeuseformyinventing.”

“Crife!”Sunnysaid,crawlingcarefullypastoneofthecandlesontheground.

Violet looked down at her and smiled. “I don’t think that will be a problem,Sunny,”shesaid.“Youusuallyfindsomethingorothertobite.Besuretospeakupwhenyouwantustostartcarryingyou.”

“Iwishsomebodycouldcarryme,”Klaussaid,clutchingthebanisterforsupport.“I’mgettingtired.”

“Me too,”Violet admitted. “Youwould think, afterCountOlafmade us run allthoselapswhenhewasdisguisedasagymteacher,thatthesestairswouldn’ttireusout,butthat’snotthecase.Whatfloorareweon,anyway?”

“Idon’tknow,”Klaussaid.“Thedoorsaren’tnumbered,andI’velostcount.”

“Well,wewon’tmiss thepenthouse,”Violetsaid.“It’sonthe topfloor,sowe’lljustkeepwalkinguntilthestairsstop.”

“Iwishyoucouldinventadevicethatcouldtakeusupthestairs,”Klaussaid.

Violetsmiled,althoughhersiblingscouldn’tsee it in thedarkness.“Thatdevicewasinventedalongtimeago,”shesaid.“It’scalledanelevator.Butelevatorsareout,remember?”

Klaussmiledtoo.“Andtiredfeetarein,”hesaid.

“Remember that time,” Violet said, “when our parents attended the SixteenthAnnual Run-a-Thon, and their feet were so tired when they got home that Dadprepareddinnerwhilesittingonthekitchenfloor,insteadofstanding?”

“Ofcourse I remember,”Klaus said. “Wehadonly salad,because theycouldn’tstandupandreachthestove.”

“ItwouldhavebeenaperfectmealforAuntJosephine,”Violetsaid,remembering

one of the Baudelaires’ previous guardians. “She never wanted to use the stove,becauseshethoughtitmightexplode.”

“Pomres,”Sunnysaidsadly.Shemeantsomethingalongthelinesof“Asitturnedout,thestovewastheleastofAuntJosephine’sproblems.”

“That’s true,” Violet said quietly, as the children heard someone sneeze frombehindadoor.

“IwonderwhattheSqualorswillbelike,”Klaussaid.

“Well,theymustbewealthytoliveonDarkAvenue,”Violetsaid.

“Akrofil,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Andthey’renotafraidofheights,that’sforsure.”

Klaus smiled and looked down at his sister. “You sound tired, Sunny,” he said.“VioletandIcantaketurnscarryingyou.We’llswitcheverythreefloors.”

Violet nodded in agreement with Klaus’s plan, and then said “Yes” out loudbecausesherealizedthathernodwasinvisibleinthegloom.Theycontinuedupthestaircase,andI’msorrytosaythatthetwoolderBaudelairestookmany,manyturnsholding Sunny. If the Baudelaires had been going up a staircase of regular size, Iwouldwrite the sentence “Up andup theywent,” but amore appropriate sentencewouldbegin“Upandupandupandup”andwouldtakeeitherforty-eightoreighty-fourpagestoreach“theywent,”becausethestaircasewassounbelievablylengthy.Occasionally,theywouldpasstheshadowyfigureofsomeoneelsewalkingdownthestairs, but the children were too tired to say even “Good afternoon”—and, later,“Goodevening”—totheseotherresidentsof667DarkAvenue.TheBaudelairesgrewhungry.Theygrewachy.Andtheygrewverytiredofgazingatidenticalcandlesandstepsanddoors.

Justwhentheycouldstanditnolonger,theyreachedanothercandleandstepanddoor,andaboutfiveflightsafterthatthestairsfinallyendedanddepositedthetiredchildreninasmallroomwithonelastcandlesittinginthemiddleofthecarpet.Bythelightofthecandle,theBaudelaireorphanscouldseethedoortotheirnewhome,and across the way, two pairs of sliding elevator doors with arrowed buttonsalongside.

“Just think,”Violet said, panting fromher longwalk up the stairs, “if elevatorswerein,wewouldhavearrivedattheSqualorpenthouseinjustafewminutes.”

“Well,maybethey’llbebackinsoon,”Klaussaid.“Ihopeso.TheotherdoormustbetotheSqualors’apartment.Let’sknock.”

Theyknockedonthedoor,andalmostinstantlyitswungopentorevealatallmanwearingasuitwithlong,narrowstripesdownit.Suchasuitiscalledapinstripesuit,andisusuallywornbypeoplewhoareeithermoviestarsorgangsters.

“I thought I heard someone approaching the door,” the man said, giving thechildrenasmilethatwassobigtheycouldseeiteveninthedimroom.“Pleasecomein.MynameisJeromeSqualor,andI’msohappythatyou’vecometostaywithus.”

“I’mverypleasedtomeetyou,Mr.Squalor,”Violetsaid,stillpanting,assheandher siblings walked into an entryway almost as dim as the staircase. “I’m VioletBaudelaire,andthisismybrother,Klaus,andmysister,Sunny.”

“Goodness,yousoundoutofbreath,”Mr.Squalor said.“Luckily, Ican thinkoftwothingstodoaboutthat.OneisthatyoucanstopcallingmeMr.SqualorandstartcallingmeJerome.I’llcallyouthreebyyourfirstnames,too,andthatwaywe’llallsavebreath.ThesecondthingisthatI’llmakeyouanice,coldmartini.Comerightthisway.”

“Amartini?”Klausasked.“Isn’tthatanalcoholicbeverage?”

“Usuallyitis,”Jeromeagreed.“Butrightnow,alcoholicmartinisareout.Aqueousmartinisarein.Anaqueousmartiniissimplycoldwaterservedinafancyglasswithanoliveinit,soit’sperfectlylegalforchildrenaswellasforadults.”

“I’veneverhadanaqueousmartini,”Violetsaid,“butI’lltryone.”

“Ah!”Jeromesaid.“You’readventurous!Ilikethatinaperson.Yourmotherwasadventurous,too.Youknow,sheandIwereverygoodfriendsawaysback.WehikedupMount Fraughtwith some friends—gosh, it must have been twenty years ago.Mount Fraught was known for having dangerous animals on it, but your motherwasn’tafraid.Butthen,swoopingoutofthesky—”

“Jerome,whowas that at the door?” called a voice from the next room, and inwalked a tall, slender woman, also dressed in a pinstripe suit. She had longfingernailsthatweresostronglypolishedthattheyshoneeveninthedimlight.

“TheBaudelairechildren,ofcourse,”Jeromereplied.

“Butthey’renotcomingtoday!”thewomancried.

“Ofcourse theyare,”Jeromesaid.“I’vebeenlookingforwardto it fordaysanddays!Youknow,”hesaid,turningfromthewomantotheBaudelaires,“Iwantedtoadopt you from the moment I heard about the fire. But, unfortunately, it wasimpossible.”

“Orphanswereoutthen,”thewomanexplained.“Nowthey’rein.”

“Mywife is alwaysvery attentive towhat’s in andwhat’s out,” Jerome said. “Idon’tcareaboutitmuch,butEsméfeelsdifferently.Shewastheonewhoinsistedonhaving the elevator removed. Esmé, Iwas just about tomake them some aqueousmartinis.Wouldyoulikeone?”

“Oh,yes!”Esmécried.“Aqueousmartinisarein!”Shewalkedquicklyovertothechildren and looked themover. “I’mEsméGigiGeniveve Squalor, the city’s sixthmost important financial advisor,” she announced grandly. “Even though I amunbelievablywealthy,youmaycallmeEsmé. I’ll learnyournames later. I’mveryhappyyou’rehere,becauseorphansarein,andwhenallmyfriendshearthatIhavethreerealliveorphans,they’llbesickwithjealousy,won’tthey,Jerome?”

“I hope not,” Jerome said, leading the children down a long, dim hallway to ahuge,dimroomthathadvariousfancycouches,chairs,andtables.Atthefarendof

theroomwasaseriesofwindows,allwiththeirshadesdrawnsothatnolightcouldgetin.“Idon’tliketohearofanybodygettingsick.Well,haveaseat,children,andwe’lltellyoualittlebitaboutyournewhome.”

TheBaudelairessatdowninthreehugechairs,gratefulfortheopportunitytoresttheirfeet.Jeromecrossedtooneofthetables,whereapitcherofwatersatnexttoabowlofolivesandsome fancyglasses,andquicklyprepared theaqueousmartinis.“Hereyougo,”hesaid,handingEsméandthechildreneachafancyglass.“Let’ssee.Incaseyouevergetlost,rememberthatyournewaddressis667DarkAvenueinthepenthouseapartment.”

“Oh,don’ttellthemsillythingslikethat,”Esmésaid,wavingherlong-nailedhandinfrontofherfaceasifamothwereattackingit.“Children,herearesomethingsyoushouldknow.Darkisin.Lightisout.Stairsarein.Elevatorsareout.Pinstripesuitsarein.Thosehorribleclothesyouarewearingareout.”

“What Esmé means,” Jerome said quickly, “is that we want you to feel ascomfortablehereaspossible.”

Violettookasipofheraqueousmartini.Shewasnotsurprisedtofindthatittastedlikeplainwater,withaslighthintofolive.Shedidn’tlikeitmuch,butitdidquenchherthirstfromthelongclimbupthestairs.“That’sveryniceofyou,”shesaid.

“Mr.Poe toldmeaboutsomeofyourpreviousguardians,”Jeromesaid,shakinghishead.“Ifeelawful thatyou’vehadsuchterribleexperiences,andthatwecouldhavecaredforyoutheentiretime.”

“Itcouldn’tbehelped,”Esmésaid.“Whensomethingisout,it’sout,andorphansusedtobeout.”

“IheardallaboutthisCountOlafperson,too,”Jeromesaid.“Itoldthedoormannottoletanyoneinthebuildingwholookedevenvaguelylikethatdespicableman,soyoushouldbesafe.”

“That’sarelief,”Klaussaid.

“Thatdreadfulmanissupposedtobeuponsomemountain,anyway,”Esmésaid.“Remember,Jerome?Thatunstylishbankersaidhewasgoingawayinahelicoptertogofindthosetwinshekidnapped.”

“Actually,”Violetsaid,“they’retriplets.TheQuagmiresaregoodfriendsofours.”

“Myword!”Jeromesaid.“Youmustbeworriedsick!”

“Well, if they find them soon,” Esmé said, “maybewe’ll adopt them, too. Fiveorphans!I’llbetheinnestpersonintown!”

“Wecertainlyhaveroomforthem,”Jeromesaid.“Thisisaseventy-one-bedroomapartment, children, so you will have your pick of rooms. Klaus, Poe mentionedsomethingaboutyourbeinginterestedininventingthings,isthatright?”

“Mysister’stheinventor,”Klausreplied.“I’mmoreofaresearchermyself.”

“Well, then,” Jerome said. “You can have the bedroom next to the library, andViolet can have the one that has a largewooden bench, perfect for keeping tools.

Sunnycanbe in the roombetweenyou two.Howdoes that sound?”That soundedabsolutelysplendid,ofcourse,buttheBaudelaireorphansdidnotgetanopportunitytosayso,becauseatelephonerangjustatthatinstant.

“I’llgetit!I’llgetit!”Esmécried,andracedacrosstheroomtopickupthephone.“Squalorresidence,”shesaid,intothereceiver,andthenwaitedasthepersonspokeontheotherend.“Yes,thisisMrs.Squalor.Yes.Yes.Yes?Oh,thankyou,thankyou,thankyou!”Shehungup thephoneand turned to thechildren. “Guesswhat?” sheasked.“Ihavesomefantasticnewsonwhatweweretalkingabout!”

“TheQuagmireshavebeenfound?”Klausaskedhopefully.

“Who?” Esmé asked. “Oh, them. No, they haven’t been found. Don’t be silly.Jerome,children,listentome—darkisout!Regularlightisin!”

“Well,I’mnotsureI’dcallthatfantasticnews,”Jeromesaid,“butitwillbearelieftogetsomelightaroundthisplace.Comeon,Baudelaires,helpmeopentheshadesandyoucangetalookatourview.Youcanseequiteabitfromsohighup.”

“I’llgoturnonallthelampsinthepenthouse,”Esmésaidbreathlessly.“Quickly,beforeanybodyseesthatthisapartmentisstilldark!”

Esmédashed from the room,while Jeromegave the three siblings a little shrugand walked across the room to the windows. The Baudelaires followed him, andhelped him open the heavy shades that were covering the windows. Instantly,sunlightstreamedintotheroom,makingthemsquintastheireyesadjustedtoregularlight. If the Baudelaires had looked around the room now that it was properlyilluminated,theywouldhaveseenjusthowfancyallthefurniturewas.Thecoucheshadpillowsembroideredwithsilver.Thechairswereallpaintedwithgoldpaint.Andthe tablesweremade fromwood chopped away from someof themost expensivetreesintheworld.ButtheBaudelaireorphanswerenotlookingaroundtheroom,asluxuriousasitwas.Theywerelookingoutofthewindowontothecitybelow.

“Spectacular view, don’t you think?” Jerome asked them, and they nodded inagreement. Itwasas if theywere lookingoutona tiny, tinycity,withmatchboxesinsteadof buildings andbookmarks insteadof streets.They could see tiny coloredshapes that looked likevarious insectsbutwere really all the cars andcarriages intown,drivingalongthebookmarksuntiltheyreachedthematchboxeswherethetinydotsofpeoplelivedandworked.TheBaudelairescouldseetheneighborhoodwheretheyhadlivedwiththeirparents,andthepartsoftownwheretheirfriendshadlived,andinafaintbluestripfar,faraway,thebeachwheretheyhadreceivedtheterriblenewsthathadbegunalltheirmisfortune.

“I knewyou’d like it,” Jerome said. “It’s very expensive to live in a penthouseapartment,butIthinkit’sworthitforaviewlikethis.Look,thosetinyroundboxesoverthereareorangejuicefactories.Thatsortofpurplishbuildingnexttotheparkismy favorite restaurant. Oh, and look straight down—they’re already cutting downthoseawfultreesthatmadeourstreetsodark.”

“Ofcourse they’recutting themdown,”Esmésaid,hurryingback into the roomandblowingoutafewcandlesthatweresittingonthemantelpiece.“Regularlightis

in—asinasaqueousmartinis,pinstripes,andorphans.”

Violet,Klaus, and Sunny looked straight down, and saw that Jeromewas right.Those strange trees that had blocked out the sunlight onDarkAvenue, looking notaller thanpaperclips fromsuchagreatheight,werebeingchoppeddownby littlegardenerdots.Eventhoughthetreeshadmadethestreetseemsogloomy,itseemedashametotearthemalldown,leavingbarestumpsthat,fromthepenthousewindow,looked like thumbtacks. The three siblings looked at one another, and then backdowntoDarkAvenue.Thosetreeswerenolongerin,sothegardenersweregettingrid of them. The Baudelaires did not like to think of what would happen whenorphanswerenolongerin,either.

CHAPTER

Three

Ifyouweretotakeaplasticbagandplaceitinsidealargebowl,andthen,usingawoodenspoon,stirthebagaroundandaroundthebowl,youcouldusetheexpression“amixedbag”todescribewhatyouhadinfrontofyou,butyouwouldnotbeusingtheexpression in thesameway Iamabout touse itnow.Although“amixedbag”sometimesreferstoaplasticbagthathasbeenstirredinabowl,moreoftenitisusedtodescribeasituationthathasbothgoodpartsandbadparts.Anafternoonatamovietheater,forinstance,wouldbeamixedbagifyourfavoritemoviewereshowing,butifyouhadtoeatgravelinsteadofpopcorn.Atriptothezoowouldbeaverymixedbag if theweatherwerebeautiful,butallof theman-andwoman-eating lionswererunningaroundloose.And,fortheBaudelaireorphans,theirfirstfewdayswiththeSqualorswere one of themostmixed bags they had yet encountered, because thegoodpartswereverygood,butthebadpartsweresimplyawful.

OneofthegoodpartswasthattheBaudelaireswerelivingoncemoreinthecitywhere theywere born and raised.After theBaudelaire parents had died, and aftertheirdisastrousstaywithCountOlaf,thethreechildrenhadbeensenttoanumberofremote locations to live, and they sorelymissed the familiar surroundings of theirhometown.Eachmorning,afterEsméleftforwork,Jeromewouldtakethechildrento some of their favorite places in town.Violetwas happy to see that her favoriteexhibits at theVerne InventionMuseum had not been changed, so she could takeanotherlookatthemechanicaldemonstrationsthathadinspiredhertobeaninventorwhen she was just two years old. Klaus was delighted to revisit the AkhmatovaBookstore,wherehisfatherusedto takehimasaspecial treat, tobuyanatlasoravolumeoftheencyclopedia.AndSunnywasinterestedinvisitingthePincusHospitalwhereshewasborn,althoughhermemoriesofthisplacewerealittlefuzzy.

Butintheafternoons,thethreechildrenwouldreturnto667DarkAvenue,anditwas this part of theBaudelaires’ situation thatwas not nearly as pleasant. For onething, the penthousewas simply too big.Besides the seventy-one bedrooms, therewereanumberoflivingrooms,diningrooms,breakfastrooms,snackrooms,sittingrooms,standingrooms,ballrooms,bathrooms,kitchens,andanassortmentofrooms

that seemed to have no purpose at all. The penthouse was so enormous that theBaudelaire orphans often found themselves hopelessly lost inside it. Violet wouldleaveherbedroomtogobrushherteethandnotfindherwaybackforanhour.Klauswould accidentally leave his glasses on a kitchen counter and waste the wholeafternoontryingtofindtherightkitchen.AndSunnywouldfindaverycomfortablespot forsittingandbiting thingsandbeunable to find it thenextday. ItwasoftendifficulttospendanytimewithJerome,simplybecauseitwasverydifficulttofindhimamidall thefancyroomsof theirnewhome,andtheBaudelairesscarcelysawEsméatall.Theyknewshewentofftoworkeverydayandreturnedintheevenings,but evenat the timeswhen shewas in theapartmentwith them, the threechildrenscarcelycaughtaglimpseofthecity’ssixthmostimportantfinancialadvisor.Itwasasifshehadforgottenallaboutthenewmembersofherfamily,orwassimplymoreinterested in loungingaround therooms in theapartment rather thanspending timewiththethreesiblings.ButtheBaudelaireorphansdidnotreallymindthatEsméwasabsent so often. They much preferred spending time with one another, or withJerome,ratherthanparticipatinginendlessconversationsaboutwhatwasinandwhatwasout.EvenwhentheBaudelairesstayedintheirbedrooms,thethreechildrendidnot have such a splendid time. As he had promised, Jerome had given Violet thebedroomwiththelargewoodenbench,whichwasindeedperfectforkeepingtools,butVioletcouldfindnotoolsintheentirepenthouse.Shefounditoddthatsuchanenormous apartment would have not even a socket wrench or onemeasly pair ofpliers,butEsméhaughtilyexplained,whenVioletaskedheroneevening,thattoolswereout.KlausdidhavetheSqualorlibrarynexttohisbedroom,anditwasalargeand comfortable room with hundreds of books on its shelves. But the middleBaudelairewasdisappointedtofindthateverysinglebookwasmerelyadescriptionofwhathadbeen inandoutduringvarious times inhistory.Klaus tried to interesthimselfinbooksofthistype,butitwassodulltoreadasnootybooklikeBootsWereIn in 1812 or Trout: In France They’re Out that Klaus found himself spendingscarcelyanytimeinthelibraryatall.AndpoorSunnyfarednobetter,aphrasewhichheremeans“alsobecameboredinherbedroom.”Jeromehadthoughtfullyplacedanumberoftoysinherroom,buttheywerethesortoftoysdesignedforsoftertoothedbabies— squishy stuffed animals, cushioned balls, and assorted colorful pillows,noneofwhichweretheleastbitfuntobite.

Butwhat reallymixed theBaudelairebagwasnot theoverwhelmingsizeof theSqualor apartment, or the disappointments of a tool benchwithout tools, a librarywithout

interestingbooks,ornonchewableitemsofamusement.WhatreallytroubledthethreechildrenwasthethoughtthattheQuagmiretripletswereundoubtedlyexperiencingthingsthatweremuch,muchworse.Witheverypassingday,theirworryfortheirfriendsfeltlikeaheavyloadontheBaudelaires’shoulders,andtheloadonlyseemedheavier,becausetheSqualorsrefusedtobeofanyassistance.

“I’mvery,verytiredofdiscussingyourlittletwinfriends,”Esmésaidoneday,asthe Baudelaires and the Squalors sipped aqueousmartinis one evening in a livingroomthechildrenhadneverseenbefore.“Iknowyou’reworriedaboutthem,butit’sboringtokeepblabbingonaboutit.”

“Wedidn’tmeantoboreyou,”Violetsaid,notaddingthatitisterriblyrudetotellpeoplethattheirtroublesareboring.

“Ofcourseyoudidn’t,”Jeromesaid,pickingtheoliveoutofhisfancyglassandpopping it into hismouth before turning to hiswife. “The children are concerned,Esmé,which is perfectly understandable. I knowMr. Poe is doing all he can, butmaybewecanputourheadstogetherandcomeupwithsomethingelse.”

“Idon’thavetimetoputmyheadtogether,”Esmésaid.“TheInAuctioniscomingup,andIhavetodevoteallofmyenergytomakingsureit’sasuccess.”

“TheInAuction?”Klausasked.

“An auction,” Jerome explained, “is a sort of sale. Everyone gets together in alarge room, and an auctioneer shows off a bunch of things that are available forpurchase.Ifyouseesomethingyoulike,youcallouthowmuchyou’dbewillingtopay for it. That’s called a bid. Then somebody else might call out a bid, andsomebodyelse,andwhoevercallsoutthehighestpricewinstheauctionandbuystheiteminquestion. It’s terriblyexciting.Yourmotherused to love them! I rememberonetime—”

“Youforgotthemostimportantpart,”Esméinterrupted.“It’scalledtheInAuctionbecausewe’resellingonlythingsthatarein.Ialwaysorganizeit,andit’soneofthemostsmashingeventsoftheyear!”

“Smashi?”Sunnyasked.

“Inthiscase,”Klausexplainedtohisyoungersister,“theword‘smashing’doesn’tmeanthatthingsgotsmashedup.Itjustmeans‘fabulous.’”

“And it is fabulous,” Esmé said, finishing her aqueous martini. “We hold theauction atVeblenHall, andweauctionoffonly the innest thingswecan find, andbestofall,allthemoneygoestoagoodcause.”

“Whichgoodcause?”Violetasked.Esméclappedherlong-nailedhandstogetherwithglee.“Me!Everylastbitofmoneythatpeoplepayattheauctiongoesrighttome!Isn’tthatsmashing?”

“Actually, dear,” Jerome said, “Iwas thinking that this year, perhapswe shouldgive themoney to another good cause. For instance, Iwas just reading about thisfamilyofseven.Themotherandfatherlosttheirjobs,andnowthey’resopoorthattheycan’tevenaffordtoliveinaone-roomapartment.Wemightsendsomeoftheauctionmoneytopeoplelikethem.”

“Don’ttalknonsense,”Esmésaidcrossly.“Ifwegivemoneytopoorpeople,thentheywon’tbepooranymore.Besides,thisyearwe’regoingtomakeheapsofmoney.Ihadlunchwithtwelvemillionairesthismorning,andelevenofthemsaidtheyweredefinitely going to attend the InAuction. The twelfth one has to go to a birthdayparty.JustthinkofthemoneyI’llmake,Jerome!Maybewecouldmovetoabiggerapartment!”

“Butwe justmoved in a fewweeks ago,” Jerome said. “I’d rather spend somemoneyonputtingtheelevatorbackinuse.It’sverytiringtoclimballthewayupto

thepenthouse.”

“There you go, talking nonsense again,”Esmé said. “If I’m not listening tomyorphans babble about their kidnapped friends, I’m listening to you talk about outthingslikeelevators.Well,wehavenomoretimeforchitchatinanycase.Guntherisstoppingbytonight,andIwantyou,Jerome,totakethechildrenoutfordinner.”

“WhoisGunther?”Jeromeasked.

“Gunther is the auctioneer, of course,” Esmé replied. “He’s supposed to be theinnest auctioneer in town, and he’s going to help me organize the auction. He’scoming over tonight to discuss the auction catalog, and we don’t want to bedisturbed.That’swhyIwantyoutogoouttodinner,andgiveusalittleprivacy.”

“ButIwasgoingtoteachthechildrenhowtoplaychesstonight,”Jeromesaid.

“No,no,no,”Esmésaid.“You’regoingout todinner.It’sallarranged.ImadeareservationatCaféSalmonellaforseveno’clock.It’ssixo’clocknow,soyoushouldget moving. You want to allow plenty of time to walk down all those stairs. Butbeforeyouleave,children,Ihaveapresentforeachofyou.”

At this, the Baudelaire children were taken aback, a phrase which here means“surprisedthatsomeonewhowassoselfishhadpurchasedgiftsforthem,”butsureenough,Esméreachedbehindthedarkredsofashewassittingon,andbroughtoutthreeshoppingbagsthathadthewords“InBoutique”writtenontheminfancy,curlyscript.Withanelegantgesture,EsméhandedabagtoeachBaudelaire.

“IthoughtifIboughtyousomethingyoureallywanted,”shesaid,“youmightstopallthischatterabouttheQuagmires.”

“WhatEsmémeans,” Jeromeaddedhurriedly,“is thatwewantyou tobehappyhereinourhome,evenwhenyou’reworriedaboutyourfriends.”

“That’snotwhatImeanatall,”Esmésaid,“butnevermind.Openthebags,kids.”

TheBaudelairesopenedtheirpresents,andI’msorrytosaythattheshoppingbagsweremixedbagsaswell.Therearemany,manythingsthataredifficultinthislife,butonethingthatisn’tdifficultatall isfiguringoutwhethersomeoneisexcitedornotwhentheyopenapresent.Ifsomeoneisexcited,theywilloftenputexclamationpointsattheendsoftheirsentencestoindicatetheirexcitedtoneofvoice.Iftheysay“Oh!” for instance, the exclamation pointwould indicate that the person is saying“Oh!” in an excited way, rather than simply saying “Oh,” with a comma after it,whichwouldindicatethatthepresentissomewhatdisappointing.

“Oh,”Violetsaid,assheopenedherpresent.

“Oh,”Klaussaid,asheopenedhis.

“Oh,”Sunnysaid,asshetoreopenhershoppingbagwithherteeth.

“Pinstripe suits! I knew you’d be excited!” Esmé said. “You must have beenmortifiedthelastfewdays,walkingaroundthecitywithoutwearinganypinstripes!Pinstripes are in, and orphans are in, so just imagine how in you’ll be when youorphansarewearingpinstripes!Nowonderyou’resoexcited!”

“Theydidn’tsoundexcitedwhentheyopenedthepresents,”Jeromesaid,“andIdon’tblamethem.Esmé,Ithoughtwesaidthatwe’dbuyVioletatoolkit.She’sveryenthusiasticaboutinventing,andIthoughtwe’dsupportthatenthusiasm.”

“But I’m enthusiastic about pinstripe suits, too,” Violet said, knowing that youshouldalwayssaythatyouaredelightedwithapresentevenwhenyoudon’tlikeitatall.“Thankyouverymuch.”

“AndKlauswassupposedtogetagoodalmanac,”Jeromecontinued.“ItoldyouabouthisinterestintheInternationalDateLine,andanalmanacistheperfectbooktolearnallaboutthat.”

“But I’mvery interested inpinstripes,” saidKlaus,whocould lie aswell ashissister,whentheneedarose.“Ireallyappreciatethisgift.”

“AndSunny,”Jeromesaid,“wasgoingtobegivenalargesquaremadeofbronze.Itwouldhavebeenattractive,andeasilybitable.”

“Ayjim,” Sunny said. She meant something along the lines of “I love my suit.Thankyouverymuch,”eventhoughshedidn’tmeanitonebit.

“I knowwediscussedbuying those silly items,”Esmé said,with awaveof herlong nailed hand, “but tools have been out forweeks, almanacs have been out formonths, and I received a phone call this afternoon informingme that large bronzesquaresarenotexpectedtobeinforatleastanotheryear.What’sinnowispinstripes,Jerome,andIdon’tappreciateyourtryingtoteachmynewchildrenthattheyshouldignorewhat’sinandwhat’sout.Don’tyouwantwhat’sbestfortheorphans?”

“Ofcourse,”Jeromesighed.“Ihadn’tthoughtofitthatway,Esmé.Well,children,I do hope you like your gifts, even though they don’t exactlymatch upwith yourinterests.Why don’t you go change into your new suits, and we’ll wear them todinner?”

“Oh,yes!”Esmésaid.“CaféSalmonellaisoneoftheinnestrestaurants.Infact,Ithinktheydon’tevenletyoueatthereifyou’renotwearingpinstripes,sogochange.Buthurryup!Guntherisduetoarriveanyminute.”

“We’llhurry,”Klauspromised,“andthankyouagainforourgifts.”

“You’reverywelcome,”Jeromesaidwithasmile,andthechildrensmiledbackathim,walkedoutofthelivingroom,downalonghallway,acrossakitchen,throughanotherlivingroom,pastfourbathrooms,andsoonandsoonandsoon,eventuallyfinding theirway to their bedrooms. They stood together for aminute outside thethreebedroomdoors,lookingsadlyintotheirshoppingbags.

“Idon’tknowhowwe’regoingtowearthesethings,”Violetsaid.

“Idon’t either,”Klaus said. “And it’s all theworseknowing thatwealmostgotpresentswereallywant.”

“Puictiw,”Sunnyagreedglumly.

“Listen to us,” Violet said. “We sound hopelessly spoiled. We’re living in anenormous apartment.We each have our own room. The doorman has promised to

watch out for CountOlaf, and at least one of our new guardians is an interestingperson.Andyetwe’restandingherecomplaining.”

“You’re right,”Klaus said. “Weshouldmake thebestof things.Gettinga lousypresentisn’treallyworthcomplainingover—notwhenourfriendsareinsuchterribledanger.We’rereallyveryluckytobehereatall.”

“Chittol,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant something like“That’s true.Weshouldstopcomplainingandgochangeintoournewoutfits.”

The Baudelaires stood together for another moment and nodded resolutely, aphrasewhichheremeans“triedtomakethemselvesstopfeelingungratefulandputon the suits.”But even though theydidn’twant to seemspoiled, even though theyknewtheirsituationwasnotaterribleoneatall,andeventhoughtheyhadlessthananhourtochangeintothesuits,findJerome,andwalkdownallthosehundredsandhundredsofstairs,thethreechildrencouldnotseemtomove.TheysimplystoodinfrontoftheirbedroomdoorsandstaredintotheirbagsfromtheInBoutique.

“Ofcourse,”Klaussaidfinally,“nomatterhowluckyweare,thefactremainsthatthesepinstripesuitsareentirelytoobigforus.”

ASeriesofUnfortunateEvents6-TheErsatzElevator

Klaus spoke the truth. It was a truth that might help you understand why theBaudelaires were so disappointedwithwhat was in their bags. It was a truth thatmight help you understandwhy the Baudelaireswere so reluctant to go into theirroomsandchangeintotheirpinstripesuits.Anditwasatruththatbecameevenmoreobviouswhen theBaudelaires finallywent into their rooms,andopened theirbagsandputonthegiftsthatEsméhadgiventhem.

Itisoftendifficulttotellifapieceofclothingwillfityouornotuntilyoutryiton,buttheBaudelairechildrencouldtell theinstanttheyfirst lookedintotheshoppingbags that these clothes dwarfed them by comparison. The expression “dwarfed bycomparison” has nothing to dowith dwarves,who are dull creatures in fairy taleswhospendtheirtimewhistlingandcleaninghouse.“Dwarfedbycomparison”simplymeansthatonethingseemssmallwhencomparedtoanotherthing.Amousewouldbe dwarfed by comparison with an ostrich, which is much bigger, and an ostrichwouldbedwarfedbycomparisonwiththecityofParis .AndtheBaudelairesweredwarfedbycomparisonwiththepinstripesuits.WhenVioletputthepantspartofhersuiton,thelegsofthesuitstretchedmuch,muchfartherthanthelegsofherbody,soitwasasifshehadtwohugenoodlesinsteadoffeet.WhenKlausputthejacketpartofhissuiton,thesleevesfellfar,farpasthishands,sohisarmslookedasiftheyhadshrunkupinsidehisbody.AndSunny’ssuitdwarfedhersomuchbycomparisonthatitwasasifshehadpulledthecoversoverherinbedinsteadofchangingherclothes.When theBaudelaires steppedbackoutof theirbedroomsandmetupagain in thehallway, they were so dwarfed by comparison that they scarcely recognized oneanother.

“Youlooklikeyou’reskiing,”Klaussaid,pointingathisoldersister’spantlegs.“Exceptyourskisaremadeofclothinsteadoftitaniumalloy.”

CHAPTER

Four

Ifyouareeverforcedtotakeachemistryclass,youwillprobablysee,atthefrontoftheclassroom,alargechartdividedintosquares,withdifferentnumbersandlettersineachofthem.Thischartiscalledthetableoftheelements,andscientistsliketosaythatitcontains all the substances that make up our world. Like everyone else, scientists arewrongfromtimetotime,anditiseasytoseethattheyarewrongaboutthetableoftheelements.Becausealthough this tablecontainsagreatmanyelements, fromtheelementoxygen,which is found in the air, to the element aluminum,which is found in cans ofsoda, the tableof theelementsdoesnotcontainoneof themostpowerfulelements that

makeupourworld,and that is theelementofsurprise.Theelementofsurprise isnotagas,likeoxygen,orasolid,likealuminum.Theelementofsurpriseisanunfairadvantage,and it can be found in situations inwhich one person has sneaked up on another. Thesurprisedperson—or, in this sadcase, the surprisedpersons—are too stunned todefendthemselves,andthesneakypersonhastheadvantageoftheelementofsurprise.

“Hello, please,”CountOlaf said in his raspy voice, and theBaudelaire orphansweretoostunnedtodefendthemselves.Theydidnotscream.TheydidnotrunawayfromOlaf.Theydidnotcalloutfortheirguardianstosavethem.Theymerelystoodthere, in their enormous pinstripe suits, and stared at the terrible man who hadsomehowfoundthemoncemore.

AsOlaflookeddownatthemwithanastysmile,enjoyingtheunfairadvantageoftheelementofsurprise,thechildrensawthathewasinyetanotherofhisnefariousdisguises,aphrasewhichheremeansthathedidnotfoolthemonebitnomatterwhathewaswearing.OnOlaf’sfeetwereapairofshinyblackbootswithhightopsthatalmostreachedhisknees—thesortofbootsthatsomeonemightweartorideahorse.OveroneofOlaf’seyeswasamonocle,whichisaneyeglassforoneeye,insteadoftwo—thesortofeyewearthatrequiresyoutofurrowyourbrowinordertokeepitinplace.Andtherestofhisbodywascoveredinapinstripesuit—thesortofsuitthatsomeonemightwearinordertobeinatthetimewhenthisstorytakesplace.ButtheBaudelaires knew that Olaf didn’t care about being in, any more than he hadimperfectvisioninoneeyeorwasabouttogohorsebackriding.ThethreechildrenknewthatOlafwaswearingbootstocoverupthetattooofaneyethathehadonhisleftankle.Theyknewhewaswearingthemonoclesothathecouldfurrowhisbrowandmakeitdifficulttoseethathehadonlyonelongeyebrowoverhisshiny,shinyeyes.Andtheyknewthathewaswearingapinstripesuitsothatpeoplewouldthinkhe was a rich, in person who belonged on Dark Avenue , instead of a greedy,treacherousvillainwhobelongedinaheavilyguardedprison.

“Youmustbechildren,please,”hecontinued,usingtheword“please”incorrectlyforthesecondtime.“ThenameofmineisGunther.Pleaseexcusethetalkingofme.Please,IamnotfluentintheEnglishlanguage,please.”

“How…”Violetsaid,andthenstopped.Shewasstillstunned,anditwasdifficulttofinishthesentence“Howdidyoufindussoquickly,andhowdidyougetpastthedoorman, who promised to keep you away from us?” while under the element ofsurprise.

“Where…”Klaussaid,andthenstopped.Hewasasstunnedashissister,andhefound it impossible to finish the sentence “Where have you put the Quagmiretriplets?”whileundertheelementofsurprise.

“Bik…”Sunnysaid,andstopped.TheelementofsurpriseweigheddownontheyoungestBaudelaireasheavilyas itdidonVioletandKlaus,andSunnycouldnotfindthewordstofinishthesentence“Bikayado?”whichmeantsomethinglike“Whatnewevilplanhaveyoucookeduptostealourfortune?”

“IseeyouarenotfluentintheEnglishlanguageeither,please,”CountOlafsaid,continuingtofakeadifferentwayoftalking.“Whereisthemotherandfather?”

“We’re not themother and father,” Esmé said, and theBaudelaires felt anotherelement of surprise as the Squalors walked into the hallway from another door.“We’rethelegalguardians.Thesechildrenareorphans,Gunther.”

“Ah!” From behind hismonocle, Count Olaf’s eyes grew even shinier, as theyoftendidwhenhewaslookingdownonthehelplessBaudelaires.Thechildrenfeltasifhiseyeswereapairoflitmatches,abouttoburnthemtoacrisp.“Orphansin!”hesaid.

“Iknoworphansarein,”Esmésaid,ignoringOlaf’simpropergrammar.“Infact,they’resointheyoughttobeauctionedoffnextweekatthebigevent!”

“Esmé!” Jerome said. “I’m shocked! We’re not going to auction off thesechildren.”

“Ofcoursewe’renot,”Esmésaid.“It’sagainstthelawtoauctionoffchildren.Oh,well.Comealong,Gunther. I’llgiveyoua full tourofourapartment. Jerome, takethechildrentoCaféSalmonella.”

“But we haven’t even introduced them,” Jerome said. “Violet, Klaus, Sunny—meetGunther,theauctioneerweweretalkingaboutearlier.Gunther,meetthenewestmembersofourfamily.”

“I am happy to meet you, please,” Olaf said, reaching out one of his scragglyhands.

“We’vemet before,”Violet said, happy to see that the element of surprisewasfadingawayandthatshewasfindingthecouragetospeakup.“Manytimesbefore.Jerome and Esmé, this man is an impostor. He’s not Gunther and he’s not anauctioneer.ThisisCountOlaf.”

“Iamnotunderstanding,please,whattheorphanissaying,”Olafsaid.“Please,IamnotfluentintheEnglishlanguage,please.”

“Yesyouare,”saidKlaus,whoalsofoundhimselffeelingmorecourageousthansurprised.“YouspeakEnglishperfectly.”

“Why, Klaus, I’m surprised at you!” Jerome said. “Awell-read person such asyourselfshouldknowhemadeafewgrammaticalerrors.”

“Waran!”Sunnyshrieked.

“Mysisterisright,”Violetsaid.“HisimproperEnglishisjustpartofhisdisguise.Ifyoumakehimtakeoffhisboots,you’llseehistattoo,andifyoumakehimtakeoffhismonocle,hisbrowwillunfurrow,and—”

“Gunther is one of the innest auctioneers in theworld,” Esmé said impatiently.“Hetoldmesohimself.I’mnotgoingtomakehimgetundressedjusttomakeyoufeelbetter.NowshakeGunther’shand,andgooff todinnerandwe’llsaynomoreaboutit.”

“He’snotGunther,Itellyou!”Klauscried.“He’sCountOlaf.”

“Iamnotknowingwhatyouaresaying,please,”CountOlafsaid,shrugginghisscrawnyshoulders.

“Esmé,”Jeromesaidhesitantly.“Howcanwebesure thisman is reallywhohesaysheis?‘Thechildrendoseemquitealarmed.Perhapsweshould—”

“Perhapswe should listen tome,”Esmé said,pointingone long-nailed finger atherself.“IamEsméGigiGeniveveSqualor,thecity’ssixthmostimportantfinancialadvisor.IliveonDarkAvenue,andIamunbelievablywealthy.”

“Iknowthat,dear,”Jeromesaid.“Ilivewithyou.”

“Well,ifyouwanttocontinuetolivewithme,youwillcallthismanbyhispropername,andthisgoesforyouthreechildrenaswell.Igotothetroubleofbuyingyousomesmashingpinstripesuits,andyoustartaccusingpeopleofbeingindisguise!”

“ItisO.K.,please,”CountOlafsaid.“Thechildrenareconfused.”

“We’renotconfused,Olaf,”Violetsaid.

Esmé turned toViolet andgaveher anangryglare. “Youandyour siblingswillcallthismanGunther,”sheordered,“oryouwillmakemevery,verysorryItookyouintomyglamoroushome.”

VioletlookedatKlaus,andthenatSunny,andquicklymadeadecision.Arguingwithsomebodyisneverpleasant,butsometimesitisusefulandnecessarytodoso.Just the other day, for example, it was useful and necessary for me to have anunpleasantargumentwithamedicalstudent,becauseifhehadn’tletmeborrowhisspeedboatIwouldnowbechainedinsideaverysmall,waterproofroom,insteadofsitting ina typewriter factory typingout thiswoeful tale.ButViolet realized that itwas neither useful nor necessary to argue with Esmé, because her guardian hadclearlymadeuphermindaboutGunther.Itwouldbemoreusefulandnecessarytoleave thepenthouseand try to figureoutwhat todoabout thereappearanceof thisdreadfulvillain,insteadofstandingthereandbickeringoverwhatnametocallhim,soViolet took a deep breath and smiled up at themanwho had brought somuchtroubleintotheBaudelairelives.

“I’msorry,Gunther,”shesaid,almostchokingonherfalseapology.

“But—” Klaus started to argue, but Violet gave him a look that meant theBaudelaireswould discuss thematter later, when thereweren’t any adults around.“That’sright,”hesaidquickly,understandinghissister’sglanceatonce.“Wethoughtyouweresomeoneelse,sir.”

Guntherreacheduptohisfaceandadjustedhismonocle.“O.K.,please,”hesaid.

“It’s somuch nicerwhen no one is arguing,” Jerome said. “Come on, children,let’s go to dinner. Gunther and Esmé have to plan the auction, and they need theapartmenttothemselves.”

“Letmejusttakeaminutetorollupmysleeves,”Klausreplied.“Oursuitsarealittlebig.”

“First you complain thatGunther is an impostor, then you complain about yoursuits,”Esmésaid,rollinghereyes.“Iguessitgoestoshowyouthatorphanscanbeinand rudeat the same time.Comeon,Gunther , letme showyou the restofmy

gloriousapartment.”

“Seeyoulater,please,”Gunthersaidtothechildren,hiseyesshiningbrightly,andgavethemalittlewaveashefollowedEsmédownthehallway.Jeromewavedback,butassoonasGuntherwasaroundthecorner,heleanedinclosetothechildren.

“ThatwasveryniceofyoutostoparguingwithEsmé,”hesaid.“Icouldtellthatyouweren’tcompletelyconvincedyouhadmadeamistakeaboutGunther.Butdon’tworry.Thereissomethingwecandotosetyourmindsatease.”

The Baudelaires looked at one another and smiled in relief. “Oh, thank you,Jerome,”Violetsaid.“Whatdidyouhaveinmind?”

Jeromesmiled,andkneltdowntohelpVioletrollupthelegsofhersuit.“Iwonderifyoucanguess,”hesaid.

“WecouldmakeGunthertakeoffhisboots,”shesaid,“andwecouldseeifhehadOlaf’stattoo.”

“Orwecouldmakehimremovehismonocleandunfurrowhisbrow,”Klaussaid,asherolleduphissleeves,“andwecouldgetabetterlookathiseyebrowsituation.”

“Resyca!”Sunnysaid,whichmeantsomethinglike“Oryoucouldsimplyaskhimtoleavethepenthouse,andneverreturn!”

“Well,Idon’tknowwhat‘Resyca!’means,”Jeromesaid,“butwe’renotgoingtodothoseotherthings.Guntherisaguest,andwedon’twanttoberudetohim.”

TheBaudelairesactuallydidwanttoberudetohim,buttheyknewitwasrudetosayso.“Thenwhatwillsetourmindsatease?”Violetasked.

“Insteadofclimbingdownallthosestairs,”Jeromesaid,“wecanslidedownthebanister! It’sgreat fun,andwhenever Ido it, it takesmymindoffmy troubles,nomatterwhattheyare.Followme!”

Slidingdownabanister,ofcourse,wasnotgoingtomaketheBaudelairesfeelanybetteraboutanevilpersonlurkingaroundtheirhome,butbeforeanyofthemcouldsay so, Jerome was already leading the way out of the penthouse. “Come on,Baudelaires!”hecalled,and thechildren followedhimashewalkedquicklydownthe hallway, through four sitting rooms, across a kitchen, past nine bedrooms, andfinally out of the apartment. He led the youngsters past the two pairs of elevatordoorstothetopofthestaircase,andsatonthebanisterwithawidegrin.

“I’llgofirst,”hesaid,“soyou’llseehowit’sdone.Becarefulonthecurvyparts,andifyou’regoingtoofastyoucanslowyourselfdownbyscrapingyourshoesalongthewall.Don’tbescared!”

Jeromegavehimselfapush,andinasecondhehadslidoutofview,hislaughterechoing off the stairwell as he raced down toward the lobby. The children lookeddownthestairwayandfelt theirheartssinkwithfear. Itwasnot thefearofslidingdownthebanister.TheBaudelaireshadsliddownplentyofbanisters,andalthoughtheyhadneversliddownonethatwaseitherforty-eightoreighty-fourstorieshigh,theywerenotscaredtotry,particularlynowthatregular lightwasinsotheycould

seewheretheyweregoing.Buttheywereafraidnonetheless.TheywereafraidthatGuntherhadacleverandnastyscheme togethishandson theBaudelaire fortune,and that they didn’t have the faintest idea of what it was. They were afraid thatsomethingdreadfulhadhappenedtotheQuagmiretriplets,becauseGuntherseemedtohave time to find theBaudelaireshere in theirnewhome.And theywereafraidthat theSqualorswouldnotbeofanyassistance inkeeping the threechildrensafefromGunther’s crooked clutches. Jerome’s laughter grew fainter and fainter as heslidfartherandfartheraway,andastheystoodtogetherwithoutawordandlookeddown the stairway,which curved and curved and curved as far as their eyes couldsee,theBaudelaireorphanswereafraidthatitwasalldownhillfromhere.

alwayswetfromtheseabreeze,andthefeetofpassersbymadebubbly,splashysoundsthatresembledthenoisesmadebyseacreatures.Anditlookedlikefishbecauseallofthebuildings in the Fish District were made of shiny, silvery scales, instead of bricks orwooden planks.When theBaudelaire orphans arrived at the FishDistrict and followedJerometoCaféSalmonella,theyhadtolookupattheeveningskytoremindthemselvesthattheywerenotunderwater.

CaféSalmonellawasnot just a restaurant, but a theme restaurant,which simplymeansa restaurantwithfoodanddecorations that followacertain idea.The themeforCaféSalmonella—andyoucanprobablyguessthisfromitsname—wassalmon.Therewerepicturesof salmonon thewalls, anddrawingsof salmonon themenu,andthewaitersandwaitressesweredressedup insalmoncostumes,whichmade itdifficultforthemtocarryplatesandtrays.Thetablesweredecoratedwithvasesfullof salmon, instead of flowers, and of course all of the food that Café Salmonellaservedhad something todowith salmon.There is nothingparticularlywrongwithsalmon, of course, but like caramel candy, strawberry yogurt, and liquid carpetcleaner,ifyoueattoomuchofityouarenotgoingtoenjoyyourmeal.AndsoitwasthateveningwiththeBaudelaireorphans.Theircostumedwaiterfirstbroughtbowlsof creamy salmon soup to the table, and then some chilled salmon salad and thensomebroiledsalmonservedwithsalmonravioliinasalmonbuttersauceforamaincourse,andbythetimethewaiterbroughtoversalmonpiewithascoopofsalmonicecreamontopthechildrenneverwantedtohaveanotherbiteofsalmonagain.Butevenifthemealhadfeaturedavarietyoffoods,allcookeddeliciouslyandbroughtbyawaiterdressedinasimple,comfortableoutfit, theBaudelaireswouldnothaveenjoyedtheirdinner,becausethethoughtofGuntherspendingtheeveningalonewiththeirguardianmadethemlosetheirappetitefarmorethantoomuchpink,flavorfulfish,andJeromewassimplynotwillingtodiscussthematteranyfurther.

“Iamsimplynotwillingtodiscussthematteranyfurther,”Jeromesaid,takingasipfromhiswaterglass,whichhadchunksoffrozensalmonfloatinginitinsteadoficecubes.“Andfrankly,Baudelaires,Ithinkyoushouldbealittleashamedofyoursuspicions.Doyouknowwhattheword‘xenophobe’means?”

Violet and Sunny shook their heads, and looked over at their brother,whowastrying to remember if he had come across theword in one of his books. “When awordendsin‘-phobe,’”Klaussaid,wipinghismouthwithasalmon-shapednapkin,“itusuallymeanssomebodywhoisafraidofsomething.Does‘xeno’mean‘Olaf’?”

“No,”Jeromesaid.“Itmeans‘stranger,’or‘foreigner.’Axenophobeissomebodywhoisafraidofpeoplejustbecausetheycomefromadifferentcountry,whichisasillyreasonforfear.Iwouldhavethoughtthatyouthreewouldbefartoosensibletobe xenophobes. After all, Violet, Galileo came from a country in Europe, and heinventedthetelescope.Wouldyoubeafraidofhim?”

“No,”Violetsaid.“I’dbehonoredtomeethim.But—”

“And Klaus,” Jerome continued, “surely you’ve heard of the writer JunichiroTanizaki,whocamefromacountryinAsia.Wouldyoubeafraidofhim?”

“Ofcoursenot,”Klaussaid.“But—”

“AndSunny,”Jeromecontinued.“Thesharp-toothedmountainlioncanbefoundin a number of countries in North America. Would you be afraid if you met amountainlion?”

“Netesh,”Sunnysaid,whichmeantsomethinglike“OfcourseIwould!Mountainlionsarewildanimals,”butJeromecontinuedtalkingasifhehadn’theardawordshesaid.

“I don’tmean to scold you,” he said. “I know you’ve had a very difficult timesinceyourparents’death,andEsméandIwanttodoallwecantoprovideagood,safe home for you. I don’t think Count Olaf would dare come to our fancyneighborhood,butincasehedoes,thedoormanwillspothimandalerttheauthoritiesimmediately.”

“Butthedoormandidn’tspothim,”Violetinsisted.“Hewasindisguise.”

“AndOlafwoulddaretogoanywheretofindus,”Klausadded.“Itdoesn’tmatterhowfancytheneighborhoodis.”

Jerome looked uncomfortably at the children. “Please don’t arguewithme,” hesaid.“Ican’tstandarguing.”

“Butsometimesit’susefulandnecessarytoargue,”Violetsaid.

“Ican’tthinkofasingleargumentthatwouldbeusefulornecessary,”Jeromesaid.“For instance,Esmémade reservations for ushere atCaféSalmonella, and I can’tstandthetasteofsalmon.Icouldhavearguedwithheraboutthat,ofcourse,butwhywoulditbeuseful?”

“Well,youcouldhavehadadinnerthatyouenjoyed,”Klaussaid.

Jeromeshookhishead.“Someday,whenyou’reolder,you’llunderstand,”hesaid.“In themeantime,doyourememberwhichsalmonisourwaiter?It’sclose toyourbedtime,andI’dliketopaythebillandtakeyouhome.”

The Baudelaire orphans looked at one another in frustration and sadness. Theywerefrustratedfromtrying toconvinceJeromeofGunther’s true identity,and theywere sad because they knew it was no use to keep on trying. They scarcely saidanotherwordasJeromeusheredthemoutofCaféSalmonellaandintoataxicabthatdrove themout of theFishDistrict to 667DarkAvenue .On theway, the taxicabpassed thebeachwhere theBaudelaires had first heard the terriblenews about the

fire,atimethatseemedinthevery,verydistantpast,eventhoughithadnotbeenallthatlongago,andasthechildrenstaredoutthewindowattheoceanwavesripplingalong the dark, dark beach, they missed their parents more than ever. If theBaudelaireparentshadbeenalive, theywouldhave listened to theirchildren.Theywouldhavebelieved themwhen they told themwhoGunther reallywas.Butwhatmade theBaudelaires saddest of allwas the fact that if theBaudelaireparentshadbeenalive,thethreesiblingswouldnotevenknowwhoCountOlafwas,letalonebetheobjectsofhis treacherousandgreedyplans.Violet,Klaus,andSunnysat inthetaxiandstaredmournfullyoutthewindow,andtheywishedwithalltheirmightthattheycouldreturntothetimewhentheirliveswerehappyandcarefree.

“You’rebackalready?”thedoormanasked,asheopenedthedoorofthetaxiwitha hand still hidden in the sleeve of his coat. “Mrs. Squalor said that youwere notsupposedtoreturnuntilyourguestleftthepenthouse,andhehasn’tcomedownyet.”

Jeromelookedathiswatchandfrowned.“It’squitelate,”hesaid.“Thechildrenshouldbeinbedsoon.I’msureifwe’reveryquiet,wewon’tdisturbthem.”

“Ihadvery strict instructions,” thedoorman said. “Nobody is supposed to enterthepenthouseapartmentuntil theguest leavesthebuilding,whichhedefinitelyhasnotdone.”

“Idon’twanttoarguewithyou,”Jeromesaid.“Butperhapshe’sonhiswaydownnow.Ittakesalongtimetogetdownallthosestairs,unlessyou’reslidingdownthebanister.SoitmightbeO.K.forustogoup.”

“I never thoughtof that,” thedoorman said, scratchinghis chinwithhis sleeve.“Allright,Iguessyoucangoup.Maybeyou’llrunintohimonthestairs.”

The Baudelaire children looked at one another. They weren’t sure which madethemmorenervous—the idea thatGunther had spent somuch time in theSqualorpenthouse,ortheideathattheymightmeethimashecamedownthestairs.“MaybeweshouldwaitforGunthertoleave,”Violetsaid.“Wedon’twantthedoormantogetintrouble.”

“No,no,”Jeromedecided.“We’dbeststarttheclimborwe’llbetootiredtoreachthetop.Sunny,besuretoletmeknowwhenyouwantmetocarryyou.”

Theywalked into the lobbyof thebuildingandweresurprised tosee that ithadbeen completely redecoratedwhile theywere at dinner.All thewallswerepaintedblue,andthefloorwascoveredinsand,withafewseashellsscatteredinthecorners.

“Oceandecoratingisin,”thedoormanexplained.“Ijustgotthephonecalltoday.Bytomorrow,thelobbywillbefilledwithunderwaterscenery.”

“I wish we’d known about this earlier,” Jerome said. “Wewould have broughtsomethingbackfromtheFishDistrict.”

“Oh, I wish you had,” the doorman said. “Everybody wants ocean decorationsnow,andthey’regettinghardtofind.”

“TherearesuretobesomeoceandecorationsforsaleattheInAuction,”Jeromesaid,asheand theBaudelaires reached thebeginningof thestairway.“Maybeyou

shouldstopbyandpurchasesomethingforthelobby.”

“Maybe Iwill,” thedoormansaid, smilingoddlyat thechildren.“Maybe Iwill.Haveagoodevening,folks.”

TheBaudelairessaidgoodnighttothedoorman,andbeganthelongclimbupthestairs.Upandupanduptheyclimbed,andtheypassedanumberofpeoplewhowereon theirway down, but although all of themwere in pinstripe suits, none of themwereGunther.Asthechildrenclimbedhigherandhigher,thepeoplegoingdownthestairslookedmoreandmoretired,andeachtimetheBaudelairespassedanapartmentdoor,theyheardthesoundsofpeoplegettingreadyforbed.Ontheseventeenthfloor,they heard somebody ask their mother where the bubble bath was. On the thirty-eighthfloor,theyheardthesoundsofsomebodybrushingtheirteeth.Andonafloorveryhighup—the childrenhad lost count again, but itmust havebeenquitehigh,becauseJeromewascarryingSunny—theyheardsomeonewithadeep,deepvoice,readingachildren’sstoryoutloud.Allthesesoundsmadethemsleepierandsleepier,andbythetimetheyreachedthetopfloortheBaudelaireorphansweresotireditfeltasiftheyweresleepwalking,or,inSunny’scase,beingsleep-carried.Theyweresotiredthattheyalmostdozedoff,leaningagainstthetwosetsofslidingelevatordoors,as Jerome unlocked the front door. And they were so tired that it seemed as ifGunther’sappearancehadbeenadream,becausewhentheyaskedabouthim,Esmérepliedthathehadleftalongtimeago.

“Guntherleft?”Violetasked.“Butthedoormansaidthathewasstillhere.”

“Oh,no,”Esmésaid.“HedroppedoffacatalogofalltheitemsfortheInAuction.It’sinthelibraryifyouwanttolookatit.Wewentoversomeauctioneeringdetails,andthenhewenthome.”

“Butthatcan’tbe,”Jeromesaid.

“Ofcourseitcanbe,”Esméreplied.“Hewalkedrightoutthefrontdoor.”

The Baudelaires looked at one another in confusion and suspicion. How hadGunther managed to leave the penthouse without being spotted? “Did he take anelevatorwhenheleft?”Klaussaid.

Esmé‘seyeswidened,andsheopenedandshuthermouthseveral timeswithoutsayinganything,asifshewereexperiencingtheelementofsurprise.“No,”shesaidfinally.“Theelevator’sbeenshutdown.Youknowthat.”

“But thedoormansaidhewas stillhere,”Violet saidagain. “Andwedidn’t seehimwhenwewalkedupthestairs.”

“Well,thenthedoormanwaswrong,”Esmésaid.“Butlet’snothaveanymoreofthissomniferousconversation.Jerome,putthemrighttobed.”

TheBaudelaireslookedatoneanother.Theydidn’tthinktheconversationwasatall somniferous, a fancyword for something that is soboring it puts you to sleep.Despitetheirexhaustingclimb,thechildrendidnotfeeltheleastbittiredwhentheywere talking about Gunther’s whereabouts. The idea that he had managed todisappearasmysteriouslyashehadappearedmade them tooanxious tobesleepy.

ButthethreesiblingsknewthattheywouldnotbeabletoconvincetheSqualorstodiscuss it any further, any more than they had been able to convince them thatGuntherwasCountOlafinsteadofaninauctioneer,sotheysaidgoodnighttoEsméand followed Jerome across three ballrooms, past a breakfast room, through twosittingrooms,andeventuallytotheirownbedrooms.

“Goodnight,children,”Jeromesaid,andsmiled.“Thethreeofyouwillprobablysleeplikelogs,afterallthatclimbing.Idon’tmeanthatyouresemblepartsoftrees,of course. I justmean thatonceyouget intobed, I betyou’ll fall right asleepandwon’tmoveanymorethanalogdoes.”

“We know what you meant, Jerome,” Klaus replied, “and I hope you’re right.Goodnight.”

Jerome smiled at the children, and the children smiledback, and then looked ateach other once more before walking into their bedrooms and shutting the doorsbehind them. The children knew that they would not sleep like logs, unless therewere certain logs that tossed and turned all night wondering things. The siblingswonderedwhereGuntherwas hiding, and how he hadmanaged to find them, andwhat terrible treachery he was dreaming up. They wondered where the Quagmiretripletswere,sinceGuntherhadtimetopreyontheBaudelaires.AndtheywonderedwhatV.F.D.couldmean,andifitwouldhelpthemwithGuntheriftheyknew.

TheBaudelairestossedandturned,andwonderedaboutallthesethings,andasitgrewlaterandlatertheyfeltlessandlesslikelogsandmoreandmorelikechildreninasinisterandmysteriousplot,spendingoneoftheleastsomniferousnightsoftheiryounglives.

Violet watched the first few rays of sunlight brighten her sturdy, tool-freeworkbench,andtriedtoimaginewhatsortofevilplanGuntherhadcookedup.Klauswatched the dawn’s raysmake shifting shapes on thewall that separatedhis roomfromtheSqualorlibrary,andrackedhisbrainforawayGunthercouldhavevanishedinto thinair.AndSunnywatched theemerging sun illuminateallof theunbiteablebaby toys, and tried to figure out if they had time to discuss the matter togetherbeforetheSqualorscametowakethemup.

Thislastthingwasfairlyeasytofigureout.ThelittlestBaudelairecrawledoutherbedroomdoor, fetchedherbrother,andopenedViolet’sdoor to findheroutofbedandsittingatherwoodenworkbenchwithherhairtiedupinaribbontokeepitoutofhereyes.“Tageb,”Sunnysaid.

“Goodmorning,”Violetreplied.“IthoughtitmighthelpmethinkifItiedmyhairup,andsatatmyworkbench,asifIwereinventingsomething.ButIhaven’tfiguredoutathing.”

“It’sterribleenoughthatOlafhasshownupagain,”Klaussaid,“andthatwehavetocallhimGunther.Butwedon’thavethefaintestcluewhathe’splanning.”

“Well,hewantstogethishandsonourfortune,that’sforsure,”Violetsaid.

“Klofy,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Ofcourse.Buthow?”

“MaybeithassomethingtodowiththeInAuction,”Klausguessed.“Whywouldhedisguisehimselfasanauctioneerifitweren’tpartofhisplan?”

Sunnyyawned,andVioletreacheddownandlifteduphersistersoshecouldsitonher lap.“Doyou thinkhe’sgoing to try toauctionusoff?”Violetasked,asSunnyleaned forward tonibbleon theworkbench in thought. “Hecouldgetoneof thoseterribleassistantsofhistobidhigherandhigherforusuntilhewon,andthenwe’dbeinhisclutches,justlikethepoorQuagmires.”

“ButEsmésaidit’sagainstthelawtoauctionoffchildren,”Klauspointedout.

Sunnystoppedchewingontheworkbenchandlookedathersiblings.“Nolano?”she asked, which meant something like “Do you think the Squalors are workingtogetherwithGunther?”

“Idon’tthinkso,”Violetsaid.“They’vebeenverykindtous—well,Jeromehas,at least- -and anyway, they don’t need theBaudelaire fortune.They have somuchmoneyalready.”

“But not much common sense,” Klaus said unhappily. “Gunther fooled themcompletely,andallittookweresomeblackboots,apinstripesuit,andamonocle.”

“Plus,hefooledthemintothinkingthathehadleft,”Violetsaid,“butthedoormanwascertainthathehadn’t.”

“Gunther’sgotmefooled,too,”Klaussaid.“Howcouldhehaveleftwithoutthedoormannoticing?”

“Idon’tknow,”Violetsaidmiserably.“Thewholethingislikeajigsawpuzzle,buttherearetoomanymissingpiecestosolveit.”

“DidIhearsomeonesay‘jigsawpuzzles’?”Jeromeasked.“Ifyou’relookingforsomejigsawpuzzles,Ithinkthereareafewinthecabinetinoneofthesittingrooms,ormaybeinoneofthelivingrooms,Ican’trememberwhich.”

The Baudelaires looked up and saw their guardian standing in the doorway ofViolet’sbedroomwithasmileonhisfaceandasilvertrayinhishands.

“Goodmorning,Jerome,”Klaussaid.“Andthankyou,butwe’renotlookingforajigsawpuzzle.Violetwasjustusinganexpression.We’retryingtofiguresomethingout.”

“Well,you’llneverfigureanythingoutonanemptystomach,”Jeromereplied.“Ihave somebreakfasthere foryou: threepoachedeggs and somenicewholewheattoast.”

“Thankyou,”Violetsaid.“It’sveryniceofyoutofixusbreakfast.”

“You’reverywelcome,”Jeromereplied.“EsméhasanimportantmeetingwiththeKingofArizona today,sowehave thewholeday toourselves. I thoughtwecouldwalk across town to the ClothingDistrict, and take your pinstripe suits to a goodtailor.There’snousehavingthosesuitsiftheydon’tfityouproperly.”

“Knilliu!”Sunnyshrieked,whichmeant“That’sveryconsiderateofyou.”

“Idon’tknowwhat‘Knilliu!’means,”Esmésaid,walkingintothebedroom,“andIdon’tcare,butneitherwillyouwhenyouhearthefantasticnewsIjustreceivedonthephone!Aqueousmartinisareout,andparsleysodaisin!”

“Parsleysoda?”Jeromesaid,frowning.“Thatsoundsterrible.IthinkI’llsticktoaqueousmartinis.”

“You’renotlistening,”Esmésaid.“Parsleysodaisinnow.You’llhavetogooutrightnowandbuyafewcratesofit.”

“ButIwasgoingtotakethechildren’ssuitstothetailortoday,”Jeromesaid.

“Then you’ll have to change your plans,” Esmé said impatiently. “The childrenalreadyhaveclothing,butwedon’thaveanyparsleysoda.”

“Well,Idon’twanttoargue,”Jeromesaid.

“Thendon’targue,”Esméreplied.“Anddon’t takethechildrenwithyou,either.TheBeverageDistrictisnoplaceforyoungpeople.Well,we’dbettergo,Jerome.Idon’twanttobelateforHisArizonaHighness.”

“Butdon’tyouwanttospendsometimewiththeBaudelairesbeforetheworkdaybegins?”Jeromeasked.

“Notparticularly,”Esmésaid,andlookedbrieflyatherwatch.“I’lljustsaygoodmorningtothem.Goodmorning.Well,let’sgo,Jerome.”

Jeromeopenedhismouthasifhehadsomethingelsetosay,butEsméwasalreadymarchingoutofthebedroom,sohejustshrugged.“Haveagoodday,”hesaidtothechildren.“There’sfoodinallofourkitchens,soyoucanmakeyourselveslunch.I’msorrythatourplansdidn’tworkoutafterall.”

“Hurryup!”Esmécalled,fromdownthehallway,andJeromeranoutoftheroom.Thechildrenheard theirguardians’ footstepsgrowfainterand fainteras theymadetheirwaytothefrontdoor.

“Well,” Klaus said, when they couldn’t hear them anymore, “what shall we dotoday?”

“Vinfrey,”Sunnysaid.

“Sunny’s right,” Violet said. “We’d better spend the day figuring out whatGunther’supto.”

“How can we knowwhat he’s up to,” Klaus said, “when we don’t even knowwhereheis?”

“Well,we’dbetterfindout,”Violetsaid.“Healreadyhadtheunfairadvantageofthe element of surprise, andwe don’twant him to have the unfair advantage of agoodhidingplace.”

“Thispenthousehaslotsofgoodhidingplaces,”Klaussaid.“Therearesomanyrooms.”

“Koundix,” Sunny said, which meant something like “But he can’t be in thepenthouse.Esmésawhimleave.”

“Well,maybehesneakedbackin,”Violetsaid,“andislurkingaroundrightnow.”

The Baudelaires looked at one another, and then at Violet’s doorway, halfexpectingtoseeGuntherstandingtherelookingatthemwithhisshiny,shinyeyes.

“If hewas lurking around here,”Klaus said, “wouldn’t he have grabbed us theinstanttheSqualorswentout?”

“Maybe,”Violetsaid.“Ifthatwashisplan.”

TheBaudelaireslookedattheemptydoorwayagain.

“I’mscared,”Klaussaid.

“Ecrif!”Sunnyagreed.

“I’mscared,too,”Violetadmitted,“butifhe’shereinthepenthouse,we’dbetterfindout.We’llhavetosearchtheentireplaceandseeifwefindhim.”

“I don’t want to find him,”Klaus said. “Let’s run downstairs and callMr. Poeinstead.”

“Mr.Poeisinahelicopter,lookingfortheQuagmiretriplets,”Violetsaid.“Bythetimehereturnsitmaybetoolate.WehavetofigureoutwhatGuntherisupto—notonlyforoursake,butforthesakeofIsadoraandDuncan.”

At thementionof theQuagmire triplets,all threeBaudelairesfeltastiffeningoftheir resolve, a phrase which here means “realized that they had to search thepenthouse for Gunther, even though it was a scary thing to do.” The childrenremembered how hardDuncan and Isadora hadworked to save them fromOlaf’sclutches back at Prufrock Preparatory School , doing absolutely everything theycould tohelp theBaudelaires escapeOlaf’s evil plan.TheQuagmireshad sneakedout in themiddleof thenight andput themselves ingravedanger.TheQuagmireshad put on disguises, risking their lives in order to try to fool Olaf. And theQuagmireshaddonealotofresearching,findingoutthesecretofV.F.D.—althoughtheyhadbeensnatchedawaybeforetheycouldrevealthesecrettotheBaudelaires.Violet,Klaus, andSunny thought about the twobraveand loyal triplets, andknewtheyhadtobejustasbraveandloyal,nowthattheyhadanopportunitytosavetheirfriends.

“You’reright,”KlaussaidtoViolet,andSunnynoddedinagreement.“Wehavetosearchthepenthouse.Butit’ssuchacomplicatedplace.Igetlostjusttryingtofindthebathroomatnight.Howcanwesearchwithoutgettinglost?”

“Hansel!”Sunnysaid.

The two older Baudelaires looked at one another. It was rare that Sunny saidsomething thathersiblingscouldn’tunderstand,but thisseemedtobeoneof thosetimes.

“Doyoumeanweshoulddrawamap?”Violetasked.

Sunnyshookherhead.“Gretel!”shesaid.

“That’s two times we don’t understand you,” Klaus said. “Hansel and Gretel?

Whatdoesthatmean?”

“Oh!”Violetcried suddenly.“HanselandGretelmeansHanselandGretel—youknow,thosetwodim-wittedchildreninthatfairytale.”

“Ofcourse,”Klaussaid.“Thatbrotherandsisterwhoinsistonwanderingaroundthewoodsbythemselves.”

“Leavingatrailofbreadcrumbs,”Violetsaid,pickingupapieceoftoastfromthebreakfast tray Jeromehadbrought them, “so theydon’t get lost.We’ll crumble upthistoastandleaveafewcrumbsineveryroomsoweknowwe’vealreadysearchedit.Goodthinking,Sunny.”

“Blized,” Sunny saidmodestly,whichmeant something like “It’s nothing,” andI’m sorry to say she turned out to be right. For as the children wandered frombedroom to living room todining room tobreakfast room to snack room to sittingroom to standing room to ballroom to bathroom to kitchen to those rooms thatseemed to have no purpose at all, and back again, leaving trails of toast crumbswherevertheywent,Guntherwasnowheretobefound.Theylookedintheclosetsofeach bedroom, and the cabinets in each kitchen, and even pulled back the showercurtainsineachbathroomtoseeifGuntherwashidingbehindthem.Theysawracksofclothesintheclosets,cansoffoodinthecabinets,andbottlesofcreamrinseintheshower,butthechildrenhadtoadmit,asthemorningendedandtheBaudelaires’owntrailofcrumbsledthembacktoViolet’sroom,thattheyhadfoundnothing.

“Where in the world can Gunther be hiding?” Klaus asked. “We’ve lookedeverywhere.”

“Maybe he was moving around,” Violet said. “He could have been in a roombehindusallthetime,jumpingintothehidingplaceswealreadychecked.”

“I don’t think so,” Klaus said. “We surely would have heard him if he wasclompingaroundinthosesillyboots.Idon’tthinkhe’sbeeninthispenthousesincelast night. Esmé insists that he left the apartment, but the doorman insists that hedidn’t.Itdoesn’taddup.”

“I’vebeenthinkingthatover,”Violetsaid.“Ithinkitmightaddup.Esméinsiststhatheleftthepenthouse.Thedoormaninsiststhathedidn’tleavethebuilding.Thatmeanshecouldbeinanyoftheotherapartmentsat667DarkAvenue.”

“You’re right,”Klaus said. “Maybe he rented one of the apartments on anotherfloor,asaheadquartersforhislatestscheme.”

“Ormaybeoneoftheapartmentsbelongstosomeoneinhistheatertroupe,”Violetsaid,andcountedthoseterriblepeopleonherfingers“There’sthehook-handedman,orthebaldmanwiththelongnose,or thatonewholookslikeneitheramannorawoman.”

“Ormaybethosetwodreadfulpowder-facedwomen—theoneswhohelpedkidnaptheQuagmires—areroommates,”Klaussaid.

“Co,”Sunny said,whichmeant something like “OrmaybeGunthermanaged totrick one of the other residents of 667 Dark Avenue into letting him into their

apartment,andthenhetiedthemupandissittingtherehidinginthekitchen.”

“IfwefindGunther inthebuilding,”Violetsaid,“thenat least theSqualorswillknow thathe isa liar.Even if theydon’tbelievehe’s reallyCountOlaf, they’llbeverysuspiciousifhe’scaughthidinginanotherapartment.”

“But how arewe going to find out?”Klaus asked. “We can’t simply knock ondoorsandasktoseeeachapartment.”

“Wedon’thavetoseeeachapartment,”Violetsaid.“Wecanlistentothem.”

KlausandSunnylookedattheirsisterinconfusionforamoment,andthenbegantogrin. “You’re right!”Klaus said. “Ifwewalkdown the stairs, listening at everydoor,wemaybeabletotellifGuntherisinside.”

“Lorigo!”Sunnyshrieked,whichmeant“Whatarewewaitingfor?Let’sgo!”

“Notsofast,”Klaussaid.“It’salongtripdownallthosestairs,andwe’vealreadydonea lotofwalking—andcrawling, inyourcase,Sunny.We’dbetterchange intooursturdiestshoes,andbringalongsomeextrapairsofsocks.Thatwaywecanavoidblisters.”

“Andweshouldbringsomewater,”Violetsaid,“sowewon’tgetthirsty.”

“Snack!”Sunnyshrieked,andtheBaudelaireorphanswenttowork,changingoutoftheirpajamasandintoappropriatestair-climbingoutfits,puttingontheirsturdiestshoes, and tucking pairs of extra socks into their pockets. After Violet and Klausmadesure thatSunnyhad tiedher shoescorrectly, thechildren left theirbedroomsand followed their crumbs down the hallway, through a living room, past twobedrooms,downanotherhallway,andintothenearestkitchen,stickingtogetherthewhole time so they wouldn’t lose one another in the enormous penthouse. In thekitchentheyfoundsomegrapes,aboxofcrackers,andajarofapplebutter,aswellasabottleofwaterthattheSqualorsusedformakingaqueousmartinisbutthattheBaudelaireswouldusetoquenchtheirthirstduringtheirlongclimb.Finally,theyleftthepenthouseapartment,walkedpasttheslidingelevatordoors,andstoodatthetopofthecurvingstairway,feelingmoreliketheywereabouttogomountainclimbingthandownstairs.

“We’llhavetotiptoe,”Violetsaid,“sothatwecanhearGunther,buthecan’thearus.”

“Andweshouldprobablywhisper,”Klauswhispered,“sothatwecaneavesdrop,withoutpeopleeavesdroppingonus.”

“Philavem,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Let’sgetstarted,”andtheBaudelairesgotstarted,tiptoeingdownthefirstcurveofthestairwayandlisteningatthedooroftheapartmentdirectlybelowthepenthouse.Forafewseconds, theyheardnothing,butthen,veryclearly,theyheardawomantalkingonthephone.

“Well,that’snotGunther,”Violetwhispered.“He’snotawoman.”

KlausandSunnynodded,andthechildrentiptoeddownthenextcurvetothefloorbelow.Assoonastheyreachedthenextdoor,itflungopentorevealaveryshortman

inapinstripesuit.“Seeyoulater,Avery!”hecalled,and,withanodtothechildren,shutthedoorandbeganwalkingdownthestairs.

“That’s notGunther either,”Klauswhispered. “He’s not that short, andhe’s notcallinghimselfAvery.”

VioletandSunnynodded,andthechildrentiptoeddownthenextcurvetothefloorbelow the floor below. They stopped and listened at this door, and heard aman’svoicecallout,“I’mgoingtotakeashower,Mother,”andSunnyshookherhead.

“Mineak,”shewhispered,whichmeant“Guntherwouldnevertakeashower.He’sfilthy.”

VioletandKlausnodded,andthechildrentiptoeddownthenextcurve,andthenthenext,andthenextandplentymoreafterthat, listeningateachdoor,whisperingbrieflytooneanother,andmovingon.Astheywalkedfartherandfartherdownthestairway,theybegantogrowtired,astheyalwaysdidwhenmakingtheirwaytoorfromtheSqualors’apartment,butthistimetheyhadadditionalhardshipsaswell.Thetipsoftheirtoesgrewtiredfromallthattiptoeing.Theirthroatsgrewhoarsefromallthatwhispering.Their earswere aching from listeningat all thosedoors, and theirchins drooped from nodding in agreement that nothing they heard sounded likeGunther.Themorningworeon,andtheBaudelairestiptoedandlistened,whisperedandnodded,andby the time theyreached the lobbyof thebuilding, it seemed thateveryphysicalfeatureoftheBaudelaireorphanswassufferinginsomewayfromthelongclimb.

“Thatwasexhausting,”Violet said, sittingdownon thebottomstepandpassingaroundthebottleofwater.“Exhaustingandfruitless.”

“Grape!”Sunnysaid.

“No,no,Sunny,”Violetsaid.“Ididn’tmeanwedidn’thaveanyfruit.Ijustmeantwedidn’tlearnanything.Doyouthinkwemissedadoor?”

“No,”Klaussaid,shakinghisheadandpassingaroundthecrackers.“Imadesure.Ievencountedthenumberoffloorsthistime,sowecoulddouble-checkthemontheway up. It’s not forty-eight, or eighty-four. It’s sixty-six,which happens to be theaverage of those two numbers. Sixty-six floors and sixty-six doors and not a peepfromGuntherbehindanyofthem.”

“Idon’tunderstandit,”Violetsaidmiserably.“Ifhe’snotinthepenthouse,andhe’snotinanyoftheotherapartments,andhehasn’tleftthebuilding,wherecouldhebe?”

“Maybeheisinthepenthouse,”Klaussaid,“andwejustdidn’tspothim.”

“Bishuy,” Sunny said, which meant “Or maybe he is in one of the otherapartments,andwejustdidn’thearhim.”

“Or maybe he has left the building,” Violet said, spreading apple butter on acrackerandgivingittoSunny.“Wecanaskthedoorman.Thereheis.”

Sureenough,thedoormanwasathisusualpostbythedoor,andwasjustnoticingthe

threeexhaustedchildrensittingonthebottomstep.

“Hellothere,”hesaid,walkinguptothemandsmilingfrombeneaththewidebrimofhishat.Stickingoutofhislongsleeveswereasmallstarfishcarvedoutofwood,andabottleofglue.“IwasjustgoingtoputupthisoceandecorationwhenIthoughtIheardsomeonewalkingdownthestairs.”

“Wejustthoughtwe’dhavelunchhereinthelobby,”Violetsaid,notwantingtoadmitthatsheandhersiblingshadbeenlisteningatdoors,“andthenhikebackup.”

“I’msorry,butthatmeansthatyou’renotallowedbackuptothepenthouse,”thedoormansaid,andshruggedhisshouldersinsidehisoversizedcoat.“You’llhavetostay here in the lobby. After all, my instructions were very clear: You were notsupposedtoreturntotheSqualorpenthouseuntiltheguestleft.IletyougouplastnightbecauseMr.Squalorsaidthatyourguestwasprobablyonhiswaydown,buthewaswrong,becauseGunthernevershowedupinthelobby.”

“YoumeanGuntherstillhasn’tleftthebuilding?”Violetasked.

“Ofcoursenot,”thedoormansaid.“I’mherealldayandallnight,andIhaven’tseenhimleave.IpromiseyouthatGuntherneverwalkedoutofthisdoor.”

“Whendoyousleep?”Klausasked.

“Idrinkalotofcoffee,”thedoormananswered.

“Itjustdoesn’tmakeanysense,”Violetsaid.

“Sure itdoes,” thedoormansaid.“Coffeecontainscaffeine,which isachemicalstimulant.Stimulantskeeppeopleawake.”

ASeriesofUnfortunateEvents6-TheErsatzElevator

“I didn’t mean the part about the coffee,” Violet said. “I meant the part aboutGunther.Esmé—that’sMrs.Squalor—ispositivethatheleftthepenthouselastnight,whilewewereattherestaurant.Butyouareequallypositivethathedidn’tleavethebuilding.It’saproblemthatdoesn’tseemtohaveasolution.”

“Everyproblemhasasolution,” thedoormansaid.“At least, that’swhatacloseassociateofminesays.Sometimesitjusttakesalongtimetofindthesolution—evenifit’srightinfrontofyournose.”

ThedoormansmiledattheBaudelaires,whowatchedhimwalkovertotheslidingelevatordoors.Heopenedthebottleofglueandmadeasmallglobbypatchononeofthe doors, and then held thewooden starfish against the glue in order to attach it.Gluingthingstoadoorisneveraveryexcitingthingtowatch,andafteramoment,Violet and Sunny turned their attention back to their lunch and the problem ofGunther’sdisappearance.OnlyKlauskeptlookinginthedirectionofthedoormanashe continued to decorate the lobby.ThemiddleBaudelaire looked and looked andlooked,andkeptonlookingevenwhenthegluedriedandthedoormanwentbacktohis post at the door. Klaus kept facing the ocean decoration that was now firmlyattachedtooneoftheelevatordoors,becauseherealizednow,afteratiringmorningof searching the penthouse and an exhausting afternoon of eavesdropping on thestairs,thatthedoormanhadbeenright.Klausdidn’tmovehisfaceonebit,becauseherealizedthatthesolutionwas,indeed,rightinfrontofhisnose.

elevatorsatatimelikethis?“AndboththeyoungBaudelairewomenwereverywellacquainted with their brother, Klaus, and were accustomed to his idiosyncrasy of notpaying a bit of attention to his surroundings when he was thinking very hard aboutsomething,ashewasclearlydoingastheafternoonworeon.ThedoormancontinuedtoinsistthattheBaudelaireorphanscouldnotreturntothepenthouse,sothethreechildrensatonthebottomstepof667DarkAvenue’slengthystairwell,atefoodtheyhadbroughtdownwiththem,andrestedtheirwearylegs,whichhadnotfeltthissoresinceOlaf,inaprevious disguise, had forced them to runhundreds andhundreds of laps as part of hisschemetostealtheirfortune.Agoodthingtodowhenoneissitting,eating,andrestingistohaveaconversation,andVioletandSunnywerebotheagertoconverseaboutGunther’smysteriousappearanceanddisappearance,andwhattheymightbeabletodoaboutit,butKlaus scarcely participated in the discussion.Onlywhen his sisters asked him a directquestion, such as ”Butwhere in theworld couldGunther be?“ or ”What do you thinkGuntherisplanning?“or”Topoing?”didKlausmumblearesponse,andVioletandSunnysoonfiguredoutthatKlausmustbethinkingveryhardaboutsomething,sotheylefthimtohisidiosyncrasyandtalkedquietlytoeachotheruntilthedoormanusheredJeromeandEsméintothelobby.

“Hello,Jerome,”Violetsaid.“Hello,Esmé.”

“Tretchev!”Sunnyshrieked,whichmeant“Welcomehome!”

Klausmumbledsomething.

“Whatapleasantsurprisetoseeyouallthewaydownhere!”Jeromesaid.“It’llbeeasiertoclimballthosestairsifwehaveyouthreecharmingpeopleforcompany.”

“Andyoucancarrythecratesofparsleysodathatarestackedoutside,”Esmésaid.“ThenIdon’thavetoworryaboutbreakingoneofmyfingernails.”

“We’d be happy to carry big crates up all those stairs,” Violet lied, “but thedoormansayswe’renotallowedbackinthepenthouse.”

“Notallowed?”Jeromefrowned.“Whateverdoyoumean?”

“Yougavemespecificinstructionsnottoletthechildrenbackin,Mrs.Squalor,”thedoormansaid.“Atleast,untilGuntherleftthebuilding.Andhestillhasn’tleft.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Esmé said. “He left the penthouse last night.What kind ofdoormanareyou?”

“Actually, I’m an actor,” the doorman said, “but Iwas still able to follow yourinstructions.”

Esmé gave the doorman a stern look she probably used when giving peoplefinancialadvice.“Yourinstructionshavechanged,”shesaid.“Yournewinstructionsaretoletmeandmyorphansgodirectlytomyseventy-one-bedroomapartment.Gotit,buster?”

“Gotit,”thedoormanrepliedmeekly.

“Good,”Esmé said, and then turned to the children. “Hurryup, kids,” she said.“Violetandwhat’s-his-namecaneachtakeacrateofsoda,andJeromewilltaketherest. I guess the babywon’t be very helpful, but that’s to be expected.Let’s get amoveon.”

TheBaudelairesgotamoveon,andinafewmomentsthethreechildrenandthetwoadultswere trekkingup the sixty-six-floor-longstaircase.TheyoungsterswerehopingthatEsmémighthelpcarrytheheavycratesofsoda,butthecity’ssixthmostimportant financial advisorwasmuchmore interested in telling themall abouthermeetingwith theKingofArizona than inbutteringupanyorphans.“He toldmealonglistofnewthingsthatarein,”Esmésquealed.“Foronething,grapefruits.Alsobrightbluecerealbowls,billboardswithphotographsofweaselsonthem,andplentyofother things that Iwill list foryourightnow.”All thewayup to thepenthouse,EsmélistedthenewinitemsshehadlearnedaboutfromHisArizonaHighness,andthetwoBaudelairesisterslistenedcarefullythewholetime.Theydidnotlistenverycarefully to Esmé‘s very dull speech, of course, but they listened closely at eachcurve of the staircase, doublechecking their eavesdropping to hear if Guntherwasindeedbehindoneoftheapartmentdoors.NeitherVioletnorSunnyheardanythingsuspicious, and they would have asked Klaus, in a low whisper so the Squalorscouldn’thearthem,ifhehadheardanysortofGunthernoise,buttheycouldtellfromhis idiosyncrasy that he was still thinking very hard about something and wasn’tlistening to the noises in the other apartments any more than he was listening to

automobiletires,cross-countryskiing,movieswithwaterfallsinthem,andtherestoftheinthingsEsméwasrattlingoff.

“Oh, and magenta wallpaper!” Esmé said, as the Baudelaires and the Squalorsfinished a dinner of in foods washed down with parsley soda, which tasted evennastier than it sounds. “And triangular picture frames, and very fancy doilies, andgarbagecanswithlettersofthealphabetstenciledalloverthem,and—”

“Excuseme,”Klaussaid,andhissistersjumpedalittlebitinsurprise.ItwasthefirsttimeKlaushadspokeninanythingbutamumblesincetheyhadbeendowninthelobby.“Idon’tmeantointerrupt,butmysistersandIareverytired.Maywebeexcusedtogotobed?”

“Ofcourse,”Jeromesaid.“Youshouldgetplentyofrestfortheauctiontomorrow.I’lltakeyoutotheVeblenHallatten-thirtysharp,so—”

“Noyouwon’t,”Esmésaid.“Yellowpaperclipsarein,Jerome,soassoonasthesunrises,you’llhavetogorighttotheStationeryDistrictandgetsome.I’llbringthechildren.”

“Well, I don’twant to argue,” Jerome said, shrugging and giving the children asmallsmile.“Esmé,don’tyouwanttotuckthechildrenin?”

“Nope,” Esmé answered, frowning as she sipped her parsley soda. “Foldingblanketsoverthreewrigglingchildrensoundslikealotmoretroublethanit’sworth.Seeyoutomorrow,kids.”

“I hope so,” Violet said, and yawned. She knew that Klaus was asking to beexcusedsohecould tellherandSunnywhathehadbeen thinkingabout,butafterlyingawake thepreviousnight, searching theentirepenthouse,and tiptoeingdownall those stairs, the eldest Baudelairewas actually quite tired. “Good night, Esmé.Goodnight,Jerome.”

“Goodnight,children,”Jeromesaid.“Andplease, ifyougetupinthemiddleofthe night and have a snack, try not to spill your food. There seem to be a lot ofcrumbsaroundthepenthouselately.”

TheBaudelaireorphans lookedat one another and smiled at their shared secret.“Sorryaboutthat,”Violetsaid.“Tomorrowwe’lldothevacuumingifyouwant.”

“Vacuumcleaners!”Esmésaid.“Iknewtherewassomethingelsehetoldmewasin.Oh,andcottonballs,andanythingwithchocolatesprinklesonit,and…”

TheBaudelairesdidnotwant to stickaround foranymoreofEsmé‘s in list, sothey brought their plates into the nearest kitchen, and walked down a hallwaydecorated with the antlers of various animals, through a sitting room, past fivebathrooms,tookaleftatanotherkitchen,andeventuallymadetheirwaytoViolet’sbedroom.

“O.K., Klaus,” Violet said to her brother, when the three children had found acomfortable corner for their discussion. “I know you’ve been thinking very hardabout something,becauseyou’vebeendoing thatuniquehabitofyourswhereyoudon’tpayabitofattentiontoyoursurroundings.”

“Uniquehabitslikethatarecalledidiosyncrasies,”Klaussaid.

“Stiblo!”Sunnycried,whichmeant“Wecanimproveourvocabularylater—telluswhat’sonyourmind!”

“Sorry,Sunny,”Klaussaid.“It’s just thatI thinkI’vefiguredoutwhereGunthermight be hiding, but I’m not positive. First, Violet, I need to ask you something.Whatdoyouknowaboutelevators?”

“Elevators?”Violetsaid.“Quiteabit,actually.MyfriendBenoncegavemesomeelevator blueprints for my birthday, and I studied them very closely. They weredestroyed in the fire, of course, but I remember that an elevator is essentially aplatform, surrounded by an enclosure, that moves along the vertical axis via anendlesslyloopedbeltandaseriesofropes.It’scontrolledbyapush-buttonconsolethat regulates an electromagnetic braking system so the transport sequence can behaltedatanyaccesspointthepassengerdesires.Inotherwords,it’saboxthatmovesupordown,dependingonwhereyouwanttogo.Butsowhat?”

“Freijip?”Sunnyasked,which,asyouknow,washeridiosyncraticwayofsaying“Howcanyouthinkofelevatorsatatimelikethis?”

“Well, it was the doorman who got me thinking about elevators,” Klaus said.Rememberwhenhesaidthatsometimesthesolutionisrightunderyournose?Well,hewasgluingthatwoodenstarfishtotheelevatordoorsrightwhenhesaidthat.”

“Inoticedthat,too,”Violetsaid.“Itlookedalittleugly.”

“It did look ugly,”Klaus agreed. “But that’s notwhat Imean. I got to thinkingabout theelevatordoors.Outside thedoor to thispenthouse, thereare twopairsofelevatordoors.Butoneveryotherfloor,there’sonlyonepair.”

“That’strue,”Violetsaid,“andthat’sodd,too,nowthatIthinkofit.Thatmeansoneelevatorcanstoponlyonthetopfloor.”

“Yelliverc!”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Thatsecondelevatorisalmostcompletelyuseless!”

“Idon’tthinkit’suseless,”Klaussaid,“becauseIdon’tthinktheelevatorisreallythere.”

“Not really there?” Violet asked. “But that would just leave an empty elevatorshaft!”

“Middiow?”Sunnyasked.

“An elevator shaft is the path an elevator uses to move up and down,” Violetexplainedtohersister.“It’ssortoflikeahallway,exceptitgoesupanddown,insteadofsidetoside.”

“Andahallway,”Klaussaid,“couldleadtoahidingplace.”

“Aha!”Sunnycried.

“Ahaisright,”Klausagreed.“Justthink,ifheusedanemptyelevatorshaftinsteadofthestairs,nobodywouldeverknowwherehewas.Idon’t thinktheelevatorhas

beenshutdownbecauseit’sout.Ithinkit’swhereGuntherishiding.”

“Butwhyishehiding?Whatisheupto?”Violetasked.

“That’sthepartwestilldon’tknow,”Klausadmitted,“butIbetyoutheanswerscan be found behind those sliding doors. Let’s take a look at what’s behind thesecondpair of elevator doors. Ifwe see the ropes and thingsyouweredescribing,thenweknowit’sarealelevator.Butifwedon’t—”

“Thenweknowwe’reontherighttrack,”Violetfinishedforhim.“Let’sgorightthisminute.”

“If we go right this minute,” Klaus said, “we’ll have do it very quietly. TheSqualorsarenotgoingtoletthreechildrenpokearoundanelevatorshaft.”

“It’sworththerisk,ifithelpsusfigureoutGunther’splan,”Violetsaid.I’msorrytosaythatitturnedoutnottobeworththeriskatall,butofcoursetheBaudelaireshadnowayofknowingthat,sotheymerelynoddedinagreementandtiptoedtowardthepenthouse’sexit,peekingintoeachroombeforetheywentthroughtoseeif theSqualors were anywhere to be found. But Jerome and Esmé were apparentlyspending the evening in some room in another part of the apartment, because theBaudelairesdidn’t seehideorhairof them—theexpression“hideorhairof them”heremeans“evenaglimpseof thecity’s sixthmost important financialadvisor,orherhusband”—ontheirwaytothefrontdoor.Theyhopedthedoorwouldnotsqueakastheypusheditopen,butapparentlysilenthingeswerein,becausetheBaudelairesmadenonoiseatallas they left theapartmentand tiptoedover to the twopairsofslidingelevatordoors.

“How do we know which elevator is which?” Violet whispered. “The pairs ofdoorslookexactlyalike.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Klaus replied. “If one of them is really a secretpassageway,theremustbesomewaytotell.”

Sunnytuggedonthelegsofhersiblings’pants,whichwasagoodwaytogettheirattentionwithoutmakinganynoise,andwhenVioletandKlauslookeddowntoseewhat their sisterwanted, sheanswered them just as silently.Without speaking, shereachedoutoneofhertinyfingersandpointedtothebuttonsthatwerenexttoeachset of sliding doors.Next to one pair of doors, therewas a single button,with anarrowprintedonitpointingdown.Butnexttothesecondpairofdoors, thereweretwobuttons:onewithaDownarrow,andonewithanUparrow.Thethreechildrenlookedatthebuttonsandconsidered.

“WhywouldyouneedanUpbutton,”Violetwhispered,“ifyouwerealreadyonthe top floor?” andwithoutwaiting for ananswer toherquestion, she reachedoutandpressedit.Withaquiet,slitherysound,theslidingdoorsopened,andthechildrenleanedcarefullyintothedoorway,andgaspedatwhattheysaw.

“Lakry,”Sunnysaid,whichmeantsomethinglike“Therearenoropes.”

“Not only are there no ropes,”Violet said. “There’s no endlessly looped belt,pushbutton console, or electromagnetic braking system. I don’t even see an enclosed

platform.”

“Iknewit,”Klaussaid,inhushedexcitement.“Iknewtheelevatorwasersatz!”

“Ersatz”isawordthatdescribesasituationinwhichonethingispretendingtobeanother, the way the secret passageway the Baudelaires were looking at had beenpretending to be an elevator, but the word might as well have meant “the mostterrifyingplacetheBaudelaireshadeverseen.”Asthechildrenstoodinthedoorwayandpeeredintotheelevatorshaft,itwasasiftheywerestandingontheedgeofanenormous cliff, looking down at the dizzying depths below them. But whatmadethese depths terrifying, aswell as dizzying,was that theywere so very dark. Theshaftwasmorelikeapitthanapassageway,leadingstraightdownintoablacknessthe likesofwhich theyoungstershadneverseen. Itwasdarker thananynighthadeverbeen,evenonnightswhentherewasnomoon.ItwasdarkerthanDarkAvenuehadbeenonthedayoftheirarrival.Itwasdarkerthanapitch-blackpanther,coveredintar,eatingblacklicoriceat theverybottomof thedeepestpartof theBlackSea.TheBaudelaireorphanshadneverdreamedthatanythingcouldbethisdark,evenintheir scariest nightmares, and as they stoodat the edgeof this pit of unimaginableblackness,theyfeltasiftheelevatorshaftwouldsimplyswallowthemupandtheywouldneverseeaspeckoflightagain.

“We have to go down there,”Violet said, scarcely believing thewords shewassaying.

“I’mnotsureIhavethecouragetogodownthere,”Klaussaid.“Lookhowdarkitis.It’sterrifying.”

“Prollit,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“ButnotasterrifyingaswhatGuntherwilldotous,ifwedon’tfindouthisplan.”

“Whydon’twejustgotelltheSqualorsaboutthis?”Klausasked.“Thentheycangodownthesecretpassageway.”

“Wedon’thave timetoarguewith theSqualors,”Violetsaid.“EveryminutewewasteisaminutetheQuagmiresarespendinginGunther’sclutches.”

“But how are we going to go down?” Klaus asked. “I don’t see a ladder, or astaircase.Idon’tseeanythingatall.”

“We’regoingtohavetoclimbdown,”Violetsaid,“onarope.Butwherecanwefindropeatthistimeofnight?Mosthardwarestorescloseatsix.”

“TheSqualorsmusthavesomeropesomewhere in theirpenthouse,”Klaussaid.“Let’ssplitupandfindsome.We’llmeetbackhereinfifteenminutes.”

Violet and Sunny agreed, and the Baudelaires stepped carefully away from theelevatorshaftandtiptoedbackintotheSqualorpenthouse.Theyfeltlikeburglarsastheysplitupandbegansearchingtheapartment,althoughtherehavebeenonlyfiveburglars in the history of robbery who have specialized in rope. All five of theseburglarswerecaughtandsent toprison,which iswhyscarcelyanypeople lockuptheirropeforsafekeeping,buttotheirfrustration,theBaudelaireslearnedthattheirguardiansdidn’tlockuptheirropesatall,forthesimplereasonthattheydidn’thave

any.

“I couldn’t find any ropes at all,”Violet admitted, as she rejoined her siblings.“ButIdidfindtheseextensioncords,whichmightwork.”

“Itookthesecurtainpullsdownfromsomeofthewindows,”Klaussaid.“They’realittlebitlikeropes,soIthoughttheymightbeuseful.”

“Armani,”Sunnyoffered,holdingupanarmfulofJerome’sneckties.

“Well,we have some ersatz ropes,”Violet said, “for our climb down the ersatzelevator.Let’stiethemalltogetherwiththeDevil’sTongue.”

“TheDevil’sTongue?”Klausasked.

“It’saknot,”Violetexplained.“Itwas inventedby femaleFinnishpirates in thefifteenthcentury.Iusedittomakemygrapplinghook,whenOlafhadSunnytrappedinthatcage,danglingfromhistowerroom,andit’llworkhereaswell.Weneedtomakeaslongaropeaspossible—forallweknow,thepassagewaygoesallthewaytothebottomfloorofthebuilding.”

“It looks like itgoesall theway to thecenterof theearth,”Klaus said. “We’vespentsomuchofourtimetryingtoescapefromCountOlaf.Ican’tbelievethatnowwe’retryingtofindhim.”

“Meneither,”Violetagreed.“Ifitweren’tfortheQuagmires,Iwouldn’tgodownthereatall.”

“Bangemp,”Sunnyremindedhersiblings.Shemeantsomethingalongthelinesof“If itweren’t for theQuagmires,wewould have been in his clutches a long timeago,”andthetwoolderBaudelairesnoddedinagreement.VioletshowedhersiblingshowtomaketheDevil’sTongue,andthethreechildrenhurriedlytiedtheextensioncordstothecurtainpulls,andthecurtainpullstotheneckties,andthelastnecktietothesturdiestthingtheycouldfind,whichwasthedoorknoboftheSqualorpenthouse.Violet checkedher siblings’ handiwork and finally gave thewhole rope a satisfiedtug.

“Ithinkthisshouldholdus,”shesaid.“Ionlyhopeit’slongenough.”

“Whydon’twedroptheropedowntheshaft,”Klaussaid,“andlistentoseeifithitsthebottom?Thenwe’llknowforsure.”

“Goodidea,”Violetreplied,andwalkedtotheedgeofthepassageway.Shethrewdown the edge of the furthermost extension cord, and the children watched as itdisappearedintotheblackness,draggingtherestoftheBaudelaires’linewithit.Thecoilsofcordandpullandnecktieunwoundquickly,likealongsnakewakingupandslitheringdownintotheshaft.Itslitheredandslitheredandslithered,andthechildrenleanedforwardasfarastheydaredandlistenedashardastheycould.Finally,theyheardafaint, faintclink!,as if theextensioncordhadhitapieceofmetal,and thethreeorphanslookedatoneanother.Thethoughtofclimbingdownallthatdistanceinthedark,onanersatzropetheyhadfashionedthemselves,madethemwanttoturnaroundandrunallthewaybacktotheirbedsandpulltheblanketsovertheirheads.Thesiblingsstoodtogetherattheedgeofthisdarkandterribleplaceandwonderedif

theyreallydaredtobegintheclimb.TheBaudelaireropehadmadeittothebottom.ButwouldtheBaudelairechildren?

“Areyouready?”Klausaskedfinally.

“No,”Sunnyanswered.

“Meneither,”Violetsaid,“butifwewaituntilwe’rereadywe’llbewaitingfortherestofourlives.Let’sgo.”

Violet tuggedone last timeon the rope, and carefully, carefully lowered herselfdownthepassageway.KlausandSunnywatchedherdisappearintothedarknessasifsomehuge,hungrycreaturehadeatenherup. “Comeon,” theyheardherwhisper,fromtheblackness.“It’sO.K.”

Klaus blew on his hands, and Sunny blew on hers, and the two youngerBaudelairesfollowedtheirsisterintotheutterdarknessoftheelevatorshaft,onlytodiscoverthatViolethadnottoldthetruth.ItwasnotO.K.ItwasnothalfO.K.Itwasnotevenonetwenty-seventhO.K.Theclimbdowntheshadowypassagewayfeltlikefallingintoadeepholeatthebottomofadeeppitonthebottomfloorofadungeonthatwasdeepunderground,and itwas the leastO.K. situation theBaudelaireshadeverencountered.Theirhandsgrippingthelinewastheonlythingtheysaw,becauseevenastheireyesadjustedtothedarkness, theywereafraidtolookanywhereelse,particularly down.The distant clink! at the bottom of the linewas the only soundthey heard, because theBaudelaireswere too scared to speak.And the only thingthey feltwas sheer terror, asdeepandasdarkas thepassageway itself, a terror soprofoundthatIhavesleptwithfournight-lightseversinceIvisited667DarkAvenueandsawthisdeeppitthattheBaudelairesclimbeddown.ButIalsosaw,duringmyvisit,whattheBaudelaireorphanssawwhentheyreachedthebottomafterclimbingformorethanthreeterrifyinghours.Bythen,theireyeshadadjustedtothedarkness,andtheycouldseewhatthebottomoftheirlinewashitting,whenitwasmakingthatfaintclinkingsound.Theedgeofthefarthestextensioncordwasbumpingupagainstapieceofmetal,allright—ametallock.Thelockwassecuredaroundametaldoor,andthemetaldoorwasattachedtoaseriesofmetalbarsthatmadeuparustymetalcage.Bythetimemyresearchledmetothispassageway, thecagewasempty,andhad been empty for a very long time.But itwas not emptywhen theBaudelairesreached it. As they arrived at the bottom of this deep and terrifying place, theBaudelaireorphanslookedintothecageandsawthehuddledandtremblingfiguresofDuncanandIsadoraQuagmire.

I’mdreaming,“DuncanQuagmire said.Hisvoicewasahoarsewhisperofuttershock.”Imustbedreaming.”

“But how can you be dreaming,” Isadora asked him, “if I’m having the samedream?”

“Ioncereadaboutajournalist,”Duncanwhispered,“whowasreportingonawarandwasimprisonedbytheenemyforthreeyears.Eachmorning,shelookedouthercellwindowand thought she sawhergrandparents coming to rescueher.But they

weren’treallythere.Itwasahallucination.”

“I remember reading about a poet,” Isadora said, “who would see six lovelymaidensinhiskitchenonTuesdaynights,buthiskitchenwasreallyempty.Itwasaphantasm.”

“No,” Violet said, and reached her hand between the bars of the cage. TheQuagmiretripletsshrankbackintothecage’sfarcorner,asifVioletwereapoisonousspider instead of a long-lost friend. “It’s not a hallucination. It’s me, VioletBaudelaire.”

“Andit’sreallyKlaus,”Klaussaid.“I’mnotaphantasm.”

“Sunny!”Sunnysaid.

TheBaudelaireorphansblinkedinthedarkness,strainingtheireyestoseeasmuchaspossible.Nowthattheywerenolongerdanglingfromtheendofarope,theywereable toget agood lookat their gloomy surroundings.Their longclimbended in atiny, filthy roomwith nothing in it but the rusty cage that the extension cord hadclinkedagainst,but theBaudelairessawthat thepassagewaycontinuedwitha longhallway,justasshadowyastheelevatorshaft,thattwistedandturnedawayintothedark.ThechildrenalsogotagoodlookattheQuagmires,andthatviewwasnolessgloomy.Theyweredressedintatteredrags,andtheirfacesweresosmearedwithdirtthattheBaudelairesmightnothaverecognizedthem,ifthetwotripletshadnotbeenholdingthenotebookstheytookwiththemwherevertheywent.But itwasnot justthedirtontheirfaces,ortheclothesontheirbodies,thatmadetheQuagmireslooksodifferent.Itwasthelookintheireyes.TheQuagmiretripletslookedexhausted,andtheylookedhungry,andtheylookedvery,veryfrightened.Butmostofall, IsadoraandDuncanlookedhaunted.Theword“haunted,”I’msureyouknow,usuallyappliestoahouse,graveyard,orsupermarket thathasghosts living in it,but thewordcanalsobeused todescribepeoplewhohave seen andheard suchhorrible things thatthey feel as if ghosts are living inside them, haunting their brains and heartswithmisery and despair. The Quagmires looked this way, and it broke the Baudelaireheartstoseetheirfriendslooksodesperatelysad.

“Isitreallyyou?”Duncansaid,squintingattheBaudelairesfromthefarendofthecage.“Canitreally,reallybeyou?”

“Oh,yes,”Violetsaid,andfoundthathereyeswerefillingwithtears.

“It’sreallytheBaudelaires,”Isadorasaid,stretchingherhandouttomeetViolet’s.“We’renotdreaming,Duncan.They’rereallyhere.”

KlausandSunnyreachedintothecageaswell,andDuncanlefthiscornertoreachtheBaudelaires as best he could from behind bars. The five children embraced asmuchastheycould,halflaughingandhalfcryingbecausetheywerealltogetheroncemore.

“How in theworlddidyouknowwherewe are?” Isadora said. “Wedon’t evenknowwhereweare.”

“You’re inasecretpassageway inside667DarkAvenue ,”Klaussaid,“butwe

didn’t knowyou’d be here.Wewere just trying to find outwhatGunther—that’swhatOlafiscallinghimselfnow—wasupto,andoursearchledusallthewaydownhere.”

“Iknowwhathe’scallinghimself,”Duncansaid,“andIknowwhathe’sup to.”He shuddered, and opened his notebook, which the Baudelaires remembered wasdarkgreenbutlookedblackinthegloom.“Everysecondwespendwithhim,allhedoes is brag about his horrible plans, and when he’s not looking, I write downeverythinghetellsussoIdon’tforgetit.EventhoughI’makidnapvictim,I’mstillajournalist.”

“And I’m still a poet,” Isadora said, and opened her notebook, which theBaudelairesrememberedwasblack,butnowlookedevenblacker.“Listentothis:

“OnAuctionDay,whenthesungoesdown,

Guntherwillsneakusoutoftown.“

“Howwill he do that?” Violet asked. “The police have been informed of yourkidnapping,andareonthelookout.”

“Iknow,”Duncansaid.“Guntherwantstosmuggleusoutofthecity,andhideusawayonsomeislandwherethepolicewon’tfindus.He’llkeepusontheislanduntilwecomeofageandhecanstealtheQuagmiresapphires.Oncehehasourfortune,hesays,he’lltakeusand—”

“Don’t say it,” Isadora cried, covering her ears. “He’s told us somany horriblethings.Ican’tstandtohearthemagain.”

“Don’tworry,Isadora,”Klaussaid.“We’llalert theauthorities,andthey’llarresthimbeforehecandoanything.”

“But it’s almost too late,”Duncan said. “The InAuction is tomorrowmorning.He’sgoingtohideusinsideoneoftheitemsandhaveoneofhisassociatesplacethehighestbid.”

“Whichitem?”Violetasked.

Duncanflippedthepagesofhisnotebook,andhiseyeswidenedasherereadsomeof thewretched thingsGuntherhad said. “Idon’tknow,”he said. “He’s toldus somany haunting secrets, Violet. So many awful schemes—all the treachery he hasdoneinthepast,andallhe’splanningtodointhefuture.It’sallhereinthisnotebook—fromV.F.D.allthewaytothisterribleauctionplan.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss everything,” Klaus said, “but in themeantime,let’sgetyououtofthiscagebeforeGunthercomesback.Violet,doyouthinkyoucanpickthislock?”

Violet took the lock in her hands and squinted at it in the gloom. “It’s prettycomplicated,” she said. “He must have bought himself some extra-difficult locks,afterIbrokeintothatsuitcaseofhiswhenwewerelivingwithUncleMonty.IfIhadsome tools, maybe I could invent something, but there’s absolutely nothing downhere.”

“Aguen?”Sunnyasked,whichmeantsomethinglike“Couldyousawthroughthe

barsofthecage?”

“Notsaw,”Violetsaid,soquietly that itwasas ifshewas talking toherself.“Idon’thavethetimetomanufactureasaw.Butmaybe…”Hervoicetrailedoff,buttheotherchildrencouldsee,inthegloom,thatshewastyingherhairupinaribbon,tokeepitoutofhereyes.

“Look,Duncan ,” Isadora said, “she’s thinkingupan invention!We’ll beoutofhereinnotime!”

“Everynightsincewe’vebeenkidnapped,”Duncansaid,“we’vebeendreamingofthedaywhenwewouldseeVioletBaudelaireinventingsomethingthatcouldrescueus.”

“Ifwe’regoing to rescueyou in time,”Violet said, thinking furiously,“thenmysiblingsandIhavetoclimbbackuptothepenthouserightaway.”

Isadora lookednervously around the tiny, dark room. “You’re going to leaveusalone?”sheasked.

“IfI’mgoingtoinventsomethingtogetyououtof thatcage,”Violetreplied,“IneedallthehelpIcanget,soKlausandSunnyhavetocomewithme.Sunny,startclimbing.KlausandIwillberightbehindyou.”

“Onosew,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Yesma’am,”andKlausliftedheruptotheend of the rope so she could begin the long, dark climb back up to the Squalors’apartment.Klausbeganclimbingrightbehindher,andVioletclaspedhandswithherfriends.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” she promised. “Don’t worry, Quagmires.You’llbeoutofdangerbeforeyouknowit.”

“Incaseanythinggoeswrong,”Duncansaid, flipping toapage inhisnotebook,“likeitdidthelasttime,letmetellyou—”

VioletplacedherfingeronDuncan‘smouth.“Shush,”shesaid.“Nothingwillgowrongthistime.Iswearit.”

“Butifitdoes,”Duncansaid,“youshouldknowaboutV.F.D.beforetheauctionbegins.”

“Don’t tellme about it now,”Violet said. “Wedon’t have time.You can tell uswhen we’re all safe and sound.” The eldest Baudelaire grabbed the end of theextensioncordandstartedtofollowhersiblings.“I’llseeyousoon,”shecalleddowntotheQuagmires,whowerealreadyfadingintothedarknessasshebeganherclimb.“I’llseeyousoon,”shesaidagain,justasshelostallsightofthem.

The climb back up the secret passageway was muchmore tiring but a lot lessterrifying,simplybecausetheyknewwhattheywouldfindattheotherendoftheirersatz rope.On thewaydown theelevator shaft, theBaudelaireshadno ideawhatwouldbewaitingforthematthebottomofsuchadarkandcavernousjourney,butViolet, Klaus, and Sunny knew that all seventy-one bedrooms of the Squalorpenthousewould be at the top.And itwas these bedrooms—alongwith the living

rooms,diningrooms,breakfast rooms,snackrooms,sittingrooms,standingrooms,ballrooms,bathrooms,kitchens,andtheassortmentofroomsthatseemedtohavenopurposeatall—thatwouldbehelpfulinrescuingtheQuagmires.

“Listentome,”Violetsaidtohersiblings,aftertheyhadbeenclimbingforafewminutes.“Whenwegetuptothetop,Iwantthetwoofyoutosearchthepenthouse.”

“What?”Klaussaid,peeringdownathissister.“Wealreadysearchedityesterday,remember?”

“Idon’twantyoutosearchitforGunther,”Violetreplied.“Iwantyoutosearchitforlong,slenderobjectsmadeofiron.”

“Agoula?”Sunnyasked,whichmeant“Whatfor?”

“IthinktheeasiestwaytogettheQuagmiresoutofthatcagewillbebywelding,”Violetsaid.“Weldingiswhenyouusesomethingveryhottomeltmetal.Ifwemeltthrough a few of the bars of the cage, we can make a door and get Duncan andIsadoraoutofthere.”

“That’sagoodidea,”Klausagreed.“ButIthoughtthatweldingrequiredalotofcomplicatedequipment.”

“Usually itdoes,”Violet said.“Inanormalweldingsituation, I’duseaweldingtorch,which is a device thatmakes a very small flame tomelt themetal.But theSqualorswon’thaveaweldingtorch—that’satool,andtoolsareout.SoI’mgoingtodeviseanothermethod.Whenyou two find the long, slenderobjectsmadeof iron,meetmeinthekitchenclosesttothefrontdoor.”

“Selrep,”Sunnysaid,whichmeantsomethinglike“That’stheonewiththebrightblueoven.”

“Right,”Violetsaid,“andI’mgoingtousethatbrightblueoventoheatthoseironobjectsashotastheycanget.Whentheyareburning,burninghot,wewilltakethembackdowntothecageandusetheirheattomeltthebars.”

“Will theystayhot longenough towork,after sucha longclimbdown?”Klausasked.

“They’dbetter,”Violetrepliedgrimly.“It’souronlyhope.”

Tohearthephrase“ouronlyhope”alwaysmakesoneanxious,becauseitmeansthatiftheonlyhopedoesn’twork,thereisnothingleft,andthatisneverpleasanttothinkabout,however true itmightbe.The threeBaudelaires feltanxiousabout thefactthatViolet’sinventionwastheironlyhopeofrescuingtheQuagmires,andtheywere quiet the rest of theway up the elevator shaft, notwanting to considerwhatwould happen to Duncan and Isadora if this only hope didn’t work. Finally, theybegan to see thedim light from theopen slidingdoors, andat last theywereonceagainatthefrontdooroftheSqualors’apartment.

“Remember,”Violetwhispered,“long,slenderobjectsmadeofiron.Wecan’tusebronzeorsilverorevengold,becausethosemetalswillmeltintheoven.I’llseeyouinthekitchen.”

The younger Baudelaires nodded solemnly, and followed two different trails ofbread crumbs in opposite directions, while Violet walked straight into the kitchenwiththebrightblueovenandlookedarounduncertainly.Cookinghadneverbeenherforte—aphrasewhichheremeans“somethingshecouldn’tdoverywell,exceptformaking toast, and sometimes she couldn’t even do that without burning it to acrisp”—and she was a bit nervous about using the oven without any adultsupervision.Butthenshethoughtaboutallthethingsshehaddonerecentlywithoutadult supervision—sprinkling crumbs on the floor, eating apple butter, climbingdownanemptyelevatorshaftonaersatzropemadeofextensioncords,curtainpulls,andneckties tied togetherwith theDevil’sTongue—andstiffenedherresolve.Sheturned the oven’s bright blue temperature dial to the highest temperature—500degreesFahrenheit—andthen,astheovenslowlyheatedup,beganquietlyopeningandclosingthekitchendrawers,lookingforthreesturdyovenmitts.Ovenmitts,asyou probably know, are kitchen accessories that serve as ersatz hands by enablingyoutopickupobjectsthatwouldburnyourfingersifyoutouchedthemdirectly.TheBaudelaires would have to use ovenmitts, Violet realized, once the long, slenderobjectswerehotenoughtobeusedaswelding torches.Justashersiblingsenteredthekitchen,Violetfoundthreeovenmittsemblazonedwiththefancy,curlywritingoftheInBoutiquestuffedintothebottomoftheninthdrawershehadopened.

“Wehitthejackpot,”Klauswhispered,andSunnynoddedinagreement.ThetwoyoungerBaudelaireswereusinganexpressionwhichheremeans“Lookatthesefiretongs—they’reperfect!”andtheywereabsolutelyright.“Fireplacesmusthavebeenin at some point,” Klaus explained, holding up three long, slender pieces of iron,“because Sunny remembered that living room with six fireplaces between theballroomwiththegreenwallsandthebathroomwiththatfunny-lookingsink.Nexttothefireplacesarefiretongs—youknow,theselongpiecesofironthatpeopleusetomovelogsaroundtokeepafiregoing.Ifiguredthatiftheycantouchburninglogs,they’llbeabletosurviveahotoven.”

“Youreallydidhitthejackpot,”Violetsaid.“Firetongsareperfect.Now,whenIopen the door of the oven, you put them in, Klaus. Sunny, stand back. Babiesshouldn’tbenearahotoven.”

“Prawottle,” Sunny said. She meant something like “Older children aren’tsupposedtobenearahotoveneither,especiallywithoutadultsupervision,”butsheunderstoodthatitwasanemergencyandcrawledtotheoppositeendofthekitchen,whereshecouldsafelywatchheroldersiblingsput thelong,slendertongsintothehotoven.Likemostovens, theSqualors’brightblueovenwasdesignedforbakingcakes and casseroles, not fire tongs, and itwas impossible to shut the door of theovenwiththelongpiecesofironinside.So,astheBaudelaireorphanswaitedforthepiecesofirontoheatupintoweldingtorches,thekitchenheatedupaswell,assomeofthehotairfromtheovenescapedouttheopendoor.BythetimeKlausaskediftheweldingtorcheswereready, thekitchenfeltas if itwereanoveninsteadofmerelycontainingone.

“Notyet,”Violetreplied,peeringcarefullyintotheopenovendoor.“Thetipsofthetongsarejustbeginningtogetyellowwithheat.Weneedthemtogetwhitewith

heat,soitwillstillbeafewminutes.”

“I’m nervous,” Klaus said, and then corrected himself. “I mean I’m anxious. Idon’tlikeleavingtheQuagmiresdownthereallalone.”

“I’manxious,too,”Violetsaid,“buttheonlythingwecandonowiswait.Ifwetaketheironoutoftheovennow,itwon’tbeofanyusetousbythetimewegetallthewaydowntothecage.”

KlausandSunnysighed,buttheynoddedinagreementwiththeirsisterandsettleddowntowaitfortheweldingtorchestobeready,andastheywaited,theyfeltasifthis particular kitchen in the Squalor penthouse was being remodeled before theirveryeyes.When theBaudelaireshadsearched theapartment tosee ifGuntherwashidinginit,theyhadleftcrumbsinanassortmentofbedrooms,livingrooms,diningrooms, breakfast rooms, snack rooms, sitting rooms, standing rooms, bathrooms,ballrooms,andkitchens,aswellasthoseroomsthatseemedtohavenopurposeatall,but the one type of room that the Squalor penthouse lacked was a waiting room.Waiting rooms, as I’m sure you know, are small rooms with plenty of chairs forwaiting,aswellaspilesofold,dullmagazinestoreadandsomevapidpaintings—theword “vapid” here means “usually containing horses in a field or puppies in abasket”—while you endure the boredom that doctors and dentists inflict on theirpatientsbeforebringingthemintopokethemandprodthemanddoallthemiserablethings that such people are paid to do. It is very rare to have a waiting room insomeone’shome,becauseevenahomeasenormousastheSqualors’doesnotcontainadoctor’sordentist’soffice,andalsobecausewaitingroomsaresouninterestingthatyouwouldneverwantoneintheplacewhereyoulive.TheBaudelaireshadcertainlyneverwishedthattheSqualorshadawaitingroomintheirpenthouse,butastheysatandwaited forViolet’s invention to be ready to use, they felt as ifwaiting roomswere suddenly inandEsméhadorderedoneconstructed right there in thekitchen.Thekitchencabinetswerenotpaintedwithhorsesinafieldorpuppiesinabasket,andtherewerenoold,dullmagazinearticlesprintedonthebrightbluestove,butasthethreechildrenwaitedfortheironobjectstoturnyellowandthenorangeandthenredastheygrewhotterandhotterandhotter,theyfeltthesameitchynervousnessastheydidwhenwaitingforatrainedmedicalprofessional.

But at last the fire tongs were white-hot, and were ready for their weldingappointmentwith the thick ironbarsof thecage.Violetpassedoutanovenmitt toeachofhersiblingsandthenputthethirdoneonherownhandtocarefullyremoveeachtongfromtheoven.“Holdthemvery,verycarefully,”shesaid,givinganersatzwelding torch to each of her siblings. “They’re hot enough tomelt metal, so justimaginewhattheycoulddoiftheytouchedus.ButI’msurewecanmanage.”

“It’llbetoughertogodownthistime,”Klaussaid,ashefollowedhissisterstothefrontdoorofthepenthouse.Heheldhisfiretongstraightup,asifitwerearegulartorch insteadofaweldingone,andhekepthiseyeon thewhite-hotpart so that itwouldn’tbrushupagainstanythingoranybody.“We’lleachhavetokeeponehandfreetoholdthetorch.ButI’msurewecanmanage.”

“Zelestin,”Sunnysaid,whenthechildrenreachedtheslidingdoorsof theersatz

elevator.Shemeant somethingalong the linesof“It’llbe terrifying toclimbdownthat horrible passageway again,” but after she said “Zelestin” she added theword“Enipy,”whichmeant“ButI’msurewecanmanage,”andtheyoungestBaudelairewas as sure as her siblings. The three children stood at the edge of the darkpassageway,buttheydidnotpausetogathertheircourage,astheyhaddonebeforetheirfirstdescentintothegapingshaft.Theirweldingtorcheswerehot,asViolethadsaid, and going downwould be tough, asKlaus had said, and the climbwould beterrifying,asSunnyhadsaid,but thesiblings lookedatoneanotherandknewtheycould manage. The Quagmire triplets were counting on them, and the Baudelaireorphansweresurethatthisonlyhopewouldworkafterall.

isthattroublesomethingstendtoremaintroublesomenomatterhowmanytimesyoudothem,andthatyoushouldavoiddoingthemunlesstheyareabsolutelyurgent.

Obviously, it was absolutely urgent for the Baudelaire orphans to take anotherthreehourclimbdowninto the terribledarknessof theelevatorshaft.Thechildrenknew that the Quagmire triplets were in grave danger, and that using Violet’sinventiontomeltthebarsofthecagewastheonlywaythattheirfriendscouldescapebeforeGunther hid them inside one of the items of the InAuction, and smuggledthemoutofthecity.ButI’msorrytosaythattheabsoluteurgencyoftheBaudelaires’secondclimbdidnotmakeitanylesstroublesome.Thepassagewaywasstillasdarkas a bar of extra-dark chocolate sitting in a planetarium covered in a thick, blackblanket, evenwith the tiny glow from thewhite-hot tips of the fire tongs, and thesensationofloweringthemselvesdowntheelevatorshaftstillfeltlikeadescentintothehungrymouthofsometerriblecreature.Withonlytheclink!ofthelastextensioncordhittingthelockofthecagetoguidethem,thethreesiblingspulledthemselvesdown the ersatz rope with one hand, and held out their welding torches with theother,andthetrekdowntothetiny,filthyroomwherethetripletsweretrappedwasstillnotevenonetwenty-seventhO.K.

ButthedreadfulrepetitionoftheBaudelaires’troublesomeclimbwasdwarfedincomparisonwiththesinistersurprisetheyfoundatthebottom,asurprisesoterriblethatthethreechildrensimplyrefusedtobelieveit.Violetreachedtheendofthefinalextension cord and thought itwas ahallucination.Klaus stood looking at the cageandthought that itmustbeaphantasm.AndSunnypeered in throughthebarsandprayed that itwas somecombinationof the two.Theyoungsters staredat the tiny,filthy room, and stared at the cage, but it took them several minutes before theybelievedthattheQuagmireswerenolongerinside.

“They’regone,”Violetsaid.“They’regone,andit’sallmyfault!”Shethrewherweldingtorchintothecornerofthetinyroom,whereitsizzledagainstthefloor.Sheturnedtohersiblings,andtheycouldsee,bythewhiteglowoftheirtongs,thattheirolder sisterwas beginning to cry. “My inventionwas supposed to save them,” shesaidmournfully,“andnowGuntherhassnatchedthemaway.I’materribleinventor,andahorriblefriend.”

Klausthrewhisweldingtorchintothecorner,andgavehissisterahug.“You’rethe best inventor I know,” he said, “and your inventionwas a good one.Listen tothoseweldingtorchessizzle.Thetimejustwasn’tripeforyourinvention,that’sall.”

“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”Violetsaidmiserably.

Sunnythrewthelastweldingtorchintothecorner,andtookoffherovenmittsoshecouldpathersistercomfortinglyontheankle.“Noque,noque,”shesaid,whichmeant“There,there.”

“All itmeans,”Klaussaid,“is thatyou inventedsomething thatwasn’thandyatthisparticulartime.It’snotyourfaultthatwedidn’trescuethem—it’sGunther’s.”

“I guess I know that,”Violet said,wiping her eyes. “I’m just sad that the timewasn’tripeformyinvention.Whoknowsifwewilleverseeourfriendsagain?”

“Wewill,”Klaussaid.“Justbecausethetimeisn’trightforyourinventingskills,doesn’tmeantitisn’tripeformyresearchingskills.”

“Dwestall,” Sunny said sadly,whichmeant “All the research in theworld can’thelpDuncanandIsadoranow.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Sunny,” Klaus replied. “Gunther might havesnatchedthem,butweknowwherehe’stakingthem—toVeblenHall.He’sgoingtohidetheminsideoneoftheitemsattheInAuction,remember?”

“Yes,”Violetsaid,“butwhichone?”

“Ifweclimbbackuptothepenthouse,”Klaussaid,“andgototheSqualorlibrary,IthinkIcanfigureitout.”

“Meotze,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“ButtheSqualorlibraryhasonlythosesnootybooksonwhat’sinandwhat’sout.”

“You’re forgetting the recent addition to the library,”Klaus said. “Esmé told usthatGunther had left a copy of the InAuction catalog, remember?Wherever he’splanning to hide theQuagmires, it’ll be listed in the catalog. Ifwe can figure outwhichitemhe’shidingthemin—”

“We can get them out of there,” Violet finished, “before he auctions them off.That’sabrilliantidea,Klaus!”

“It’snolessbrilliantthaninventingweldingtorches,”Klaussaid.“Ijusthopethetimeisripethistime.”

“Metoo,”Violetsaid.“Afterall,it’souronly—”

“Vinung,” Sunny said, which meant “Don’t say it,” and her sister nodded inagreement.Therewasnouse insaying itwas theironlyhope,andgetting themasanxious as they were before, so without another word the Baudelaires hoistedthemselves back up on their makeshift rope and began climbing back up to theSqualorpenthouse.Thedarknessclosedinonthemagain,andthechildrenbegantofeelasiftheirwholeliveshadbeenspentinthisdeepandshadowypit,insteadofinavarietyoflocationsrangingfromalumbermillinPaltryvilletoacaveontheshoresofLakeLachrymosetotheBaudelairemansion,whichsatincharredremainsjustafewblocksawayfromDarkAvenue.Butratherthanthinkaboutalloftheshadowyplaces in the Baudelaire past, or the shadowiest place that they were climbingthrough now, the three siblings tried to concentrate on the brighter places in the

Baudelairefuture.Theythoughtofthepenthouseapartment,whichdrewcloserandclosertothemastheyclimbed.

They thoughtof theSqualor library,whichcouldcontain theproper informationtheyneeded todefeatGunther’splan.And they thoughtofsomeglorious time thatwas yet to come, when the Baudelaires and the Quagmires could enjoy theirfriendshipwithout the ghastly shadowof evil andgreed that hungover themnow.The Baudelaire orphans tried to keep their minds on these bright thoughts of thefutureastheyclimbeduptheshadowyelevatorshaft,andbythetimetheyreachedtheslidingdoorstheyfeltthatperhapsthisglorioustimewasnotsofaroff.

ASeriesofUnfortunateEvents6-TheErsatzElevator

“Itmustalmostbemorning,”Violetsaid,asshehelpedSunnyhoistherselfoutofthe elevator doors. “We’d better untie our rope from the doorknob, and shut thesedoors,otherwisetheSqualorswillseewhatwe’vebeenupto.”

“Why shouldn’t they see?” Klaus asked. “Maybe then they’d believe us aboutGunther.”

“NooneeverbelievesusaboutGunther,oranyofOlaf’sotherdisguises,”Violetsaid, “unless we have some evidence. All we have now is an ersatz elevator, anemptycage,andthreecoolingfiretongs.That’snotevidenceofanything.”

“Isupposeyou’reright,”Klaussaid.“Well,whydon’tyoutwountietherope,andI’llgostraighttothelibraryandstartreadingthecatalog.”

“Goodplan,”Violetsaid.

“Reauhop!”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Andgoodluck!”Klausquietlyopenedthedoorofthepenthouseandlethimselfin,andtheBaudelairesistersbeganpullingtheropebackuptheshaft.TheendofthelastextensioncordclinkedandclinkedagainstthewallsofthepassagewayasSunnywounduptheersatzropeuntilitwasacoilofextensioncords,curtainpulls,andfancyneckties.Violetuntiedthelastdoubleknottodetachitfromthedoorknob,andturnedtohersister.

“Let’sstorethisundermybed,”shesaid,“incaseweneeditlater.It’sonthewaytothelibraryanyway.”

“Yallrel,”Sunnyadded,whichmeant“Andlet’sshuttheslidingelevatordoors,sotheSqualorsdon’tseethatwe’vebeensneakingaroundanelevatorshaft.”

“Goodthinking,”Violetsaid,andpressedtheUpbutton.Thedoorsslidshutagain,andafter takingagood lookaround tomakesure theyhadn’t leftanythingbehind,thetwoBaudelaireswalkedintothepenthouseandfollowedtheirbread-crumbtrailpastabreakfastroom,downahallway,acrossastandingroom,downahallway,andfinallytoViolet’sroom,wheretheystoredtheersatzropeunderthebed.Theywereabout tohead right to the librarywhenSunnynoticedanote thathadbeen left onViolet’sextra-fluffypillow.

“‘DearViolet,’”readViolet,‘“Icouldn’tfindyouoryoursiblingsthismorningtosaygood-bye.IhadtoleaveearlytobuyyellowpaperclipsbeforeheadingovertotheInAuction.EsméwilltakeyoutoVeblenHallatten-thirtysharp,sobesuretobeready,orshe’llbeveryannoyed.Seeyouthen!Sincerelyyours,JeromeSqualor.’”

“Yikes!”Sunny said, pointing to thenearest of the612 clocks that theSqualorsowned.

“Yikes is right,”Violet said. “It’s already ten o’clock.All that climbing up and

downtheelevatorshafttookmuchlongerthanIthought.”

“Wrech,” Sunny added, which meant something like “Not to mention makingthoseweldingtorches.”

“We’dbettergotothelibraryrightaway,”Violetsaid.“MaybewecanhelpKlausspeeduptheresearchprocessinsomeway.”

Sunnynoddedinagreement,andthetwosisterswalkeddownthehallwaytotheSqualor library.SinceJeromehadfirstshownit to them,VioletandSunnyhadscarcelybeeninside,andit lookedlikenobodyelsehaduseditmuch,either.Agoodlibrarywillneverbetooneat,ortoodusty,becausesomebodywillalwaysbeinit, takingbooksoffthe shelves and staying up late reading them. Even libraries that were not to theBaudelaires’ taste—Aunt Josephine’s library, for instance, only contained books ongrammar—werecomfortableplacestobein,becausetheownersofthelibraryusedthemsomuch.But theSqualor librarywas as neat and as dusty as could be.All of the dullbooksonwhatwasinandwhatwasoutsatontheshelvesintidyrows,withlayersofduston top of them as if they hadn’t been disturbed since they’d first been placed there. ItmadetheBaudelairesistersalittlesadtoseeallthosebookssittinginthelibraryunreadandunnoticed,likestraydogsorlostchildrenthatnobodywantedtotakehome.Theonlysignoflifeinthelibrarywastheirbrother,whowasreadingthecatalogsocloselythathedidn’tlookupuntilhissisterswerestandingathisside.

“Ihatetodisturbyouwhenyou’reresearching,”Violetsaid,“buttherewasanotefrom Jerome onmy pillow. Esmé is going to take us to Veblen Hall at ten-thirtysharp,andit’sjustpastteno’clocknow.Isthereanywaywecanhelpyou?”

“I don’t see how,” Klaus said, his eyes looking worried behind his glasses.“There’sonlyonecopyofthecatalog,andit’sprettycomplicated.Eachoftheitemsfortheauctioniscalledalot,andthecataloglistseachlotwithadescriptionandaguessatwhat thehighestbidmaybe. I’vereadup toLot#49,which isavaluablepostagestamp.”

“Well,Gunthercan’thide theQuagmires inapostage stamp,”Violet said. “Youcanskipthatlot.”

“I’vebeenskippinglotsoflots,”Klaussaid,“butI’mstillnoclosertofiguringoutwherethetripletswillbe.WouldGuntherhidetheminLot#14—anenormousglobe?WouldhehidethemunderthelidofLot#25—arareandvaluablepiano?Wouldhehide them in Lot #48— an enormous statue of a scarlet fish?”Klaus stopped andturnedthepageofacatalog.“OrwouldhehidetheminLot#50,whichis—”

Klausendedhissentenceinagasp,buthissistersknewimmediatelythathedidnotmean that the fiftieth item to be sold at the InAuctionwas a sharp intake ofbreath. He meant he’d discovered something remarkable in the catalog, and theyleanedforwardtoreadoverhisshoulderandseewhatitwas.

“Ican’tbelieveit,”Violetsaid.“Isimplycan’tbelieveit.”

“Toomsk,” Sunny said, which meant something like “This must be where theQuagmireswillbehidden.”

“IagreewithSunny,”Klaussaid,“eventhoughthere’snodescriptionoftheitem.Theydon’tevenwritewhatthelettersstandfor.”

“We’ll find outwhat they stand for,”Violet said, “becausewe’re going to findEsmé right this minute, and tell her what’s going on. When she finds out, she’llfinallybelieveusaboutGunther,andwe’llgettheQuagmiresoutofLot#50beforethey leave the city.Youwere right,Klaus—the timewas ripe for your researchingskills.”

“IguessIwasright,”Klaussaid.“Icanscarcelybelieveourluck.”

TheBaudelaires lookedagainat thepageof thecatalog,makingsure that itwasneither a hallucination nor a phantasm.And itwasn’t. Right there,written in neatblack type under the heading “Lot #50,” were three letters, and three punctuationmarks, that seemed to spell out the solution to the Baudelaires’ problems. Thechildrenlookedatoneanotherandsmiled.All threesiblingscouldscarcelybelievetheir luck. The Baudelaire orphans could scarcely believe that those three lettersspelledoutthehidingplaceoftheQuagmiresasclearlyasitspelledout“V.F.D.”

CHAPTER

Ten

“…andoneoftheitemsinthecatalogislistedas‘V.F.D.,’whichisthesecretthatthe Quagmires tried to tell us about right before they were kidnapped,” Klausfinished.

“Thisisterrible,”Esmésaid,andtookasipoftheparsleysodashehadinsistedonpouringforherselfbeforetheBaudelaireorphanscouldtellhereverythingtheyhaddiscovered. Then she had insisted on settling herself on the innest couch in herfavoritesittingroom,andthatthethreechildrensitinthreechairsgroupedaroundherinasemicircle,beforetheycouldrelatethestoryofGunther’strueidentity,thesecretpassagewaybehindtheslidingelevatordoors,theschemetosmuggletheQuagmiresoutofthecity,andthesurprisingappearanceofthosethreemysteriousinitialsasthedescriptionofLot#50.The three siblingswerepleased that theirguardianhadnotdismissed their findings, or arguedwith them about Gunther or the Quagmires oranything else, but instead had quietly and calmly listened to every detail. In fact,Esméwassoquietandcalmthatitwasdisconcerting,awordwhichheremeans“awarningthattheBaudelairechildrendidnotheedintime.”

“ThisistheleastsmashingthingIhaveeverheard,”Esmésaid,takinganothersipof her in beverage. “Let me see if I have understood everything you have said.GuntherisinfactCountOlafindisguise.”

“Yes,”Violetsaid.“Hisbootsarecoveringuphistattoo,andhismonoclemakeshimscrunchhisfaceuptohidehisoneeyebrow.”

“AndhehashiddenawaytheQuagmires inacageat thebottomofmyelevatorshaft,”Esmésaid,puttinghersodaglassdownonanearbytable.

“Yes,” Klaus said. “There’s no elevator behind those doors. SomehowGunther

removeditsohecouldusetheshaftasasecretpassageway.”

“And now he’s taken theQuagmires out of the cage,” Esmé continued, “and isgoing to smuggle them out of the city by hiding them inside Lot #50 of the InAuction.”

“Kaxret,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Yougotit,Esmé.”

“This is certainly a complicated plot,” Esmé said. “I’m surprised that youngchildrensuchasyourselfwereabletofigureitout,butI’mgladyoudid.”Shepausedforamomentand removedaspeckofdust fromoneofher fingernails.“Andnowthere’sonlyone thing todo.We’ll rush right toVeblenHall andput a stop to thisterriblescheme.We’llhaveGuntherarrestedandtheQuagmiressetfree.We’dbetterleaverightthisminute.”

Esmé stood up, and beckoned to the children with a faint smile. The childrenfollowed her out of the sitting room and past twelve kitchens to the front door,exchangingpuzzledglances.Theirguardianwasright,ofcourse,thattheyshouldgoto Veblen Hall and expose Gunther and his treachery, but they couldn’t helpwonderingwhy thecity’ssixthmost important financialadvisorwassocalmwhenshesaidit.ThechildrenweresoanxiousabouttheQuagmiresthattheyfeltasiftheywerejumpingoutoftheirskin,butEsméledtheBaudelairesoutofthepenthouseasif they were going to the grocery store to purchase whole wheat flour instead ofrushingtoanauctiontostopahorriblecrime.Assheshutthedooroftheapartmentand turned to smile at the children again, the three siblings could see no sign ofanxiousnessonherface,anditwasdisconcerting.

“KlausandIwilltaketurnscarryingyou,Sunny,”Violetsaid,liftinghersisterup.“Thatwaythetripdownthestairswillbeeasierforyou.”

“Oh,wedon’thavetowalkdownallthosestairs,”Esmésaid.

“That’strue,”Klaussaid.“Slidingdownthebanisterswillbemuchquicker.”

Esmé put one arm around the children and beganwalking them away from thefrontdoor.Itwasnicetoreceiveanaffectionategesturefromtheirguardian,butherarmwaswrappedaroundthemsotightlythattheycouldscarcelymove,whichwasalsodisconcerting.“Wewon’thavetoslidedownthebanisters,either,”shesaid.

“Thenhowwillwegetdownfromthepenthouse?”Violetasked.

Esméstretchedoutherotherarm,andusedoneofherlongfingernailstopresstheUpbuttonnexttotheslidingdoors.Thiswasthemostdisconcertingthingofall,butbynow,I’msorry tosay, itwas too late.“We’ll take theelevator,”shesaid,as thedoorsslidopen,andthenwithonelastsmileshesweptherarmforwardandpushedtheBaudelaireorphansintothedarknessoftheelevatorshaft.

Sometimes words are not enough. There are some circumstances so utterlywretched that I cannot describe them in sentences or paragraphs or even a wholeseriesofbooks,and the terrorandwoe that theBaudelaireorphans feltafterEsmépushedthemintotheelevatorshaftisoneofthosemostdreadfulcircumstancesthatcanberepresentedonlywith twopagesofutterblackness. Ihavenowordsfor the

profoundhorrorthechildrenfeltastheytumbleddownintothedarkness.Icanthinkofnosentencethatcanconveyhowloudlytheyscreamed,orhowcoldtheairwasasitwhooshedaroundthemwhiletheyfell.AndthereisnoparagraphIcouldpossiblytypethatwouldenableyoutoimaginehowfrightenedtheBaudelaireswereastheyplungedtowardcertaindoom.

But I can tell you that they did not die. Not one hair on their heads had beenharmedbythetimethechildrenfinallystoppedtumblingthroughthedarkness.Theysurvivedthefallfromthetopoftheshaftforthesimplereasonthattheydidnotreachthe bottom. Something broke their fall, a phrase which here means that theBaudelaires’plungewasstoppedhalfwaybetweentheslidingelevatordoorsandthemetal cage where the Quagmires had been locked up. Something broke their fallwithout even injuring them, and though it at first felt like a miracle, when thechildrenunderstoodthattheywerealive,andnolongerfalling,theyreachedouttheirhandsandsoonrealizedthatitfeltalotmorelikeanet.WhiletheBaudelaireswerereading the catalog of the In Auction, and telling Esmé what they had learned,someonehad stretcheda ropenet across theentirepassageway, and itwas thisnetthathadstoppedthechildrenfromplungingtotheirdoom.Far,farabovetheorphanswas theSqualorpenthouse,andfar, farbelow themwas thecage in the tiny, filthyroomwiththehallwayleadingoutofit.TheBaudelaireorphansweretrapped.

But it is far better to be trapped than to bedead, and the three childrenhuggedeachotherinreliefthatsomethinghadbrokentheirfall.“Spenset,”Sunnysaid,inavoicehoarsefromscreaming.

“Yes,Sunny,”Violetsaid,holdingherclose.“We’realive.”Shesoundedasifsheweretalkingasmuchtoherselfastohersister.

“We’realive,”Klaussaid,huggingthemboth.“We’realive,andwe’reO.K.”

“Iwouldn’tsayyouwereO.K.”Esmé‘svoicecalleddowntothemfromthetopofthepassageway.Hervoiceechoedoff thewallsof thepassageway,but thechildrencould still hear every cruelword. “You’re alive, but you’re definitely notO.K.Assoon as the auction is over and the Quagmires are on their way out of the city,Guntherwillcomeandgetyou,andIcanguaranteethatyouthreeorphanswillneverbeO.K.again.Whatawonderfulandprofitableday!Myformeractingteacherwillfinallygethishandsonnotonebuttwoenormousfortunes!”

“Your formeracting teacher?”Violet asked inhorror. “Youmeanyou’veknownGunther’strueidentitytheentiretime?”

“Of course I did,” Esmé said. “I just had to fool you kids and my dim-wittedhusbandintothinkinghewasreallyanauctioneer.Luckily,Iamasmashingactress,soitwaseasytotrickyou.”

“Soyou’vebeenworking togetherwith that terriblevillain?”Klauscalledup toher.“Howcouldyoudothattous?”

“He’snotaterriblevillain,”Esmésaid.“He’sagenius!IinstructedthedoormannottoletyououtofthepenthouseuntilGunthercameandretrievedyou,butGuntherconvincedmethatthrowingyoudowntherewasabetteridea,andhewasright!Now

there’snowayyou’llmakeittotheauctionandmessupourplans!”

“Zisalem!”Sunnyshrieked.

“My sister is right!”Violet cried. “You’re our guardian!You’re supposed to bekeepingussafe,notthrowingusdownelevatorshaftsandstealingourfortune!”

“But I want to steal from you,” Esmé said. “I want to steal from you the wayBeatricestolefromme.”

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Klausasked.“You’realreadyunbelievablywealthy.Whydoyouwantevenmoremoney?”

“Becauseit’sin,ofcourse,”Esmésaid.“Well,toodle-oo,children.‘Toodle-oo’isthe in way of saying good-bye to three bratty orphans you’re never going to seeagain.”

“Why?”Violetcried.“Whyareyoutreatingussoterribly?”

Esmé‘s answer to this questionwas the cruelest of all, and like a fall down anelevator shaft, therewerenowords forher reply.Shemerely laughed, a loud rudecackle thatbouncedoff thewallsof thepassagewayand then faded into silenceastheirguardianwalkedaway.TheBaudelaireorphanslookedatoneanother—ortriedtolookatoneanother,inthedarkness—andtrembledindisgustandfear,shakingthenetthathadtrappedthemandsavedthematthesametime.

“Dielee?”Sunnysaidmiserably,andhersiblingsknewthatshemeant“Whatarewegoingtodo?”

“Idon’tknow,”Klaussaid,“butwe’vegottodosomething.”

“And we’ve got to do it quickly,” Violet added, “but this is a very difficultsituation.There’snouseclimbingupordown—thewallsfeeltoosmooth.”

“And there’s no usemaking a lot of noise to try and get someone’s attention,”Klaussaid.“Evenifanybodyhears,they’lljustthinksomeoneisyellinginoneoftheapartments.”

Violetclosedhereyesinthought,althoughitwassodarkthatitdidn’treallymakeadifferenceifhereyeswereclosedoropen.“Klaus,maybethetimeisrightforyourresearching skills,” she said after a moment. “Can you think of some moment inhistorywhenpeoplegotoutofatraplikethisone?”

“I don’t think so,” Klaus replied sadly. “In the myth of Hercules, he’s trappedbetweentwomonstersnamedScyllaandCharybdis,justlikewe’retrappedbetweenthe sliding doors and the floor. But he got out of the trap by turning them intowhirlpools.”

“Glaucus,”Sunnysaid,whichmeantsomethinglike“Butwecan’tdothat.”

“Iknow,”Klaussaidglumly.“Mythsareoftenentertaining,butthey’reneververyhelpful.MaybethetimeisripeforoneofViolet’sinventions.”

“ButIdon’thaveanymaterialstoworkwith,”Violetsaid,reachingoutherhandtofeeltheedgesofthenet.“Ican’tusethisnetforaninvention,becauseifIstartto

tearitup,we’llfall.Thenetseemstobeattachedtothewallswithlittlemetalpegsthatstickintothewalls,butIcan’tpullthoseoutandusethem,either.”

“Gyzan?”Sunnyasked.

“Yes,”Violetreplied,“pegs.Feelrighthere,Sunny.Guntherprobablystoodonalongladdertodrivethesepegsintothewallsofthepassageway,andthenstrungthenetacrossthepegs.Iguessthewallsoftheelevatorshaftaresoftenoughthatsmallsharpobjectscanbestuckintothem.”

“Thole?”Sunnyasked,whichmeant“Liketeeth?”andinstantlyhersiblingsknewwhatshewasthinking.

“No, Sunny,”Violet said. “You can’t climb up the elevator shaft by using yourteeth.It’stoodangerous.”

“Yoigt,”Sunnypointedout,whichmeantsomethinglike“ButifIfall,I’lljustfallbackintothenet.”

“But what if you get stuck halfway up?” Klaus asked. “Or what if you lose atooth?”

“Vasta,”Sunny said,whichmeant “I’ll just have to risk it—it’s our onlyhope,”and her siblings reluctantly agreed. They did not like the idea of their baby sisterclimbinguptotheslidingdoorsoftheersatzelevator,usingonlyherteeth,buttheycouldthinkofnootherwaytoescapeintimetofoilGunther’splan.Thetimewasn’tripe forViolet’s inventingskills,or for theknowledgeKlaushad fromhis reading,butthetimewasripeforSunny’ssharpteeth,andtheyoungestBaudelairetiltedherhead back and then swung forward, sticking one of her teeth into thewallwith aroughsoundthatwouldmakeanydentistweepforhours.ButtheBaudelaireswerenotdentists,andthethreechildrenlistenedcloselyinthedarknesstohearifSunny’stoothwouldstickasfirmlyasthenetpegs.Totheirdelighttheyheardnothing—noscraping or sliding or cracking or anything that would indicate that Sunny’s teethwouldn’t hold. Sunny even shook her head a little bit to see if that would easilydislodgehertoothfromthewall,butitremainedafirmtoothhold.Sunnyswungherheadslightly,andembeddedanother tooth,slightlyabove thefirstone.Thesecondtoothstuck,soSunnycarefullyeasedoutthefirsttoothandinserteditoncemoreinthewall,slightlyabovethesecondtooth.Byspacingherteethslightlyapart,Sunnyhadmovedafewinchesupthewall,andbythetimeshestuckherfirsttoothabovethesecondoneagain,herlittlebodywasnolongertouchingthenet.

“Goodluck,Sunny,”Violetsaid.

“We’rerootingforyou,Sunny,”Klaussaid.

Sunnydidnot reply,buthersiblingswerenotalarmedbecause they imagined itwas difficult to saymuchwhen you had amouthful ofwall. SoViolet andKlausmerelysatontheirnetandcontinuedtocallupencouragement to theirbabysister.Had Sunny been able to climb and speak at the same time, she might have said“Soried,”whichmeantsomething like“Sofarsogood,”or“Yaff,”whichmeant“Ithink I’ve reached thehalfwaypoint,”but the twoolderBaudelairesheardnothingbutthesoundofherteethinsertinganddetachingthemselvesinthedarkuntilSunny

triumphantlycalleddowntheword“Top!”

“Oh,Sunny!”Klauscried.“Youdidit!”

“Way togo!”Violetcalledup.“Now,gogetourmakeshift rope fromunder thebed,andwe’llclimbupandjoinyou.”

“Ganba,” Sunny called back, and crawled off. The two older siblings sat andwaitedinthedarknessforawhile,marvelingattheirsister’sskills.

“Icouldn’thaveclimbedallthewayupthispassageway,”Violetsaid,“notwhenIwasSunny’sage.”

“Meneither,”Klaussaid,“althoughwebothhaveregular-sizedteeth.”

“It’snotjustthesizeofherteeth,”Violetsaid,“it’sthesizeofhercourage,andthesizeofherconcernforhersiblings.”

“And the size of the trouble we’re in,” Klaus added, “and the size of ourguardian’s treachery. Ican’tbelieveEsméwasscheming togetherwithGunther theentiretime.She’sasersatzasherelevator.”

“Esmé‘s a pretty good actress,” Violet said comfortingly, “even though she’s aterrible person. She had us completely fooled that Gunther had her completelyfooled.Butwhatwasshetalkingaboutwhenshesaid—”

“Tada!”Sunnycalleddownfromtheslidingdoors.

“Shehastherope,”Violetsaidexcitedly.“Tieittothedoorknob,Sunny,usingtheDevil’sTongue.”

“No,”Klaussaid,“Ihaveabetteridea.”

“Abetterideathanclimbingoutofhere?”Violetasked.

“Iwanttoclimboutofhere,”Klaussaid,“butIdon’tthinkweshouldclimbup.Thenwe’lljustbeatthepenthouse.”

“Butfromthepenthouse,”Violetsaid,“wecanget toVeblenHall.Wecanevenslidedownthebanisterstosavetime.”

“Butattheendofthebanisters,”Klaussaid,“isthelobbyofthebuilding,andinthelobbyisadoormanwithstrictinstructionsnottoletusleave.”

“Ihadn’tthoughtabouthim,”Violetsaid.“Healwaysfollowsinstructions.”

“That’swhywe’vegottoleave667DarkAvenueanotherway,”Klaussaid.

“Ditemu,”Sunny called down,whichmeant something like “What otherway isthere?”

“Down,” Klaus said. “That tiny room at the bottom of the elevator shaft has ahallwayleadingoutofit,remember?It’srightnexttothecage.”

“That’s true,”Violet said. “Thatmust be howGunther snatched theQuagmiresawaybeforewecouldrescuethem.Butwhoknowswhereitleads?”

“Well, ifGunther took theQuagmires down that hallway,”Klaus said, “itmust

leadtosomewherenearVeblenHall.Andthat’spreciselywherewewanttogo.”

“You’re right,”Violet said.“Sunny, forgetabout tying the rope to thedoorknob.Someonemightsee it,anyway,andrealizewe’veescaped.Justbring itdownhere.Doyouthinkyoucanbiteyourwaybackdown?”

“Geronimo!”Sunnycried,whichmeant something like“Idon’tneed tobitemywaybackdown,”andtheyoungestBaudelairewasright.Shetookadeepbreath,andthrewherselfdownthedarkpassageway,thecoilofersatzropetrailingbehindher.Thistime,theplungedoesnotneedtoberepresentedbypagesofdarkness,becausethe terror of the long, dark fall was alleviated—the word “alleviated” heremeans“notparticularlyonSunny’smind”—because theyoungestBaudelaireknewthatanet,andhersiblings,werewaitingforheratthebottom.Withathump!Sunnylandedon the net, andwith a slightly smaller thump! the coil of rope landed next to her.Aftermakingsurehersisterwasunharmedbythefall,Violetbegantyingoneendoftheirropetooneofthepegsholdingthenetinplace.

“I’llmakesurethisendoftheropeissecured,”Violetsaid.“Sunny,ifyourteetharen’t too sore from the climb,use them to cut ahole in thenet, sowe can climbthroughit.”

“WhatcanIdo?”Klausasked.

“Youcanpray thisworks,”Violet said,but theBaudelaire sisterswere soquickwiththeirtasksthattherewasnotimeforeventheshortestofreligiousceremonies.In a matter of moments, Violet had attached the rope to the peg with somecomplicatedandpowerfulknots,andSunnyhadcutachild-sizedholeinthemiddleofthenet.Violetdangledtheropedownthehole,andthethreechildrenlisteneduntilthey heard the familiar clink! of their ersatz rope against the metal cage. TheBaudelaireorphanspausedforamomentattheholeinthenet,andstareddownintotheblackness.

“Ican’tbelievewe’reclimbingdownthispassagewayagain,”Violetsaid.

“Iknowwhatyoumean,”Klaussaid.“Ifsomeonehadaskedme,thatdayatthebeach,ifIeverthoughtwe’dbeclimbingupanddownanemptyelevatorshaftinanattempttorescueapairoftriplets,Iwouldhavesaidneverinamillionyears.Andnowwe’re doing it for the fifth time in twenty-four hours.What happened to us?Whatledustothisawfulplacewe’restaringatnow?”

“Misfortune,”Violetsaidquietly.

“Aterriblefire,”Klaussaid.

“Olaf,”Sunnysaiddecisively,andbegancrawlingdowntherope.Klausfollowedhissisterdownthroughtheholeinthenet,andVioletfollowedKlaus,andthethreeBaudelairesmade the long trekdown thebottomhalfof thepassagewayuntil theyreachedthetiny,filthyroom,theemptycage,andthehallwaythattheyhopedwouldlead them to the InAuction.Sunnysquintedupat their rope,makingsure thathersiblingshadsafelyreachedthebottom.Klaussquintedat thehallway, trying toseehow long it was, or if there was anybody or anything lurking in it. And Violetsquintedin thecorner,at theweldingtorches thechildrenhadthrownin thecorner

whenthetimehadnotbeenripetousethem.

“Weshouldtakethesewithus,”shesaid.

“Butwhy?”Klausasked.“They’vecertainlycooledofflongago.”

“Theyhave,”Violetsaid,pickingoneup.

“Andthe tipsareallbentfromthrowingthemin thecorner.But theystillmightcomeinhandyforsomething.Wedon’tknowwhatwe’llencounterinthathallway,and I don’t want to come up shorthanded. Here, Klaus. Here’s yours, and here’sSunny’s.”

TheyoungerBaudelairestookthebent,cooledfiretongs,andthen,stickingclosetooneanother,all threechildrentooktheirfirstfewstepsdownthehallway.Intheutter darkness of this terrible place, the fire tongs seemed like long, slenderextensionsof theBaudelaires’hands, insteadof inventions theywereeachholding,but thiswas notwhatViolet hadmeantwhen she said she didn’twant them to beshort-handed.“Shorthanded” isawordwhichheremeans“unprepared,”andVioletwas thinking that three children alone in a dark hallway holding fire tongs wereperhaps a bit more prepared than three children alone in a dark hallway holdingnothing at all.And I’m sorry to tell you that the eldestBaudelairewas absolutelyright.Thethreechildrencouldn’taffordtobeshorthandedatall,notwiththeunfairadvantagethatwaslurkingat theendof theirwalk.Astheytookonecautiousstepafteranother,theBaudelaireorphansneededtobeaslonghandedaspossiblefortheelementofsurprisethatwaswaitingforthemwhenthedarkhallwaycametoanend.

CHAPTER

Eleven

TheFrenchexpression“cul-de-sac”describeswhattheBaudelaireorphansfoundwhentheyreachedtheendofthedarkhallway,andlikeallFrenchexpressions,itismosteasilyunderstoodwhenyoutranslateeachFrenchwordintoEnglish.Theword“de,”forinstance,isaverycommonFrenchword,soevenifIdidn’tknowawordofFrench,Iwouldbecertainthat“de”means“of.”Theword“sac”islesscommon,butIamfairlycertainthatitmeanssomethinglike“mysteriouscircumstances.”Andtheword“cul”issucharareFrenchwordthatIamforcedtoguessatitstranslation,andmy guess is that in this case it wouldmean “At the end of the dark hallway, theBaudelaire children found an assortment,” so that the expression “cul-de-sac” heremeans“Attheendofthedarkhallway,theBaudelairechildrenfoundanassortmentofmysteriouscircumstances.”

If the Baudelaires had been able to choose a French expression that would bewaitingfor themat theendof thehallway, theymighthavechosenone thatmeant“Bythetimethethreechildrenroundedthelastdarkcornerofthecorridor,thepolicehad captured Gunther and rescued the Quagmire triplets,” or at least “TheBaudelairesweredelightedtoseethatthehallwayledstraighttoVeblenHall,wherethe In Auction was taking place.” But the end of the hallway proved to be asmysteriousandworrisomeastherestofit.Theentirelengthofthehallwaywasvery

dark, and it had somany twists and turns that the three children frequently foundthemselves bumping into the walls. The ceiling of the hallway was very low—Gunthermusthavehadtocrouchwhenheuseditforhistreacherousplans—andovertheirheadsthethreechildrencouldhearavarietyofnoisesthattoldthemwherethehallwaywasprobablytakingthem.Afterthefirstfewcurves,theyheardthemutedvoiceofthedoorman,andhisfootstepsashewalkedoverhead,andtheBaudelairesrealizedthattheymustbeunderneaththelobbyoftheSqualors’apartmentbuilding.Afterafewmorecurves,theyheardtwomendiscussingoceandecorations,andtheyrealizedtheymustbewalkingbeneathDarkAvenue.Andafterafewmorecurves,theyheardthericketyrattleofanoldtrolleythatwaspassingovertheirheads,andthe children knew that the hallwaywas leading them underneath one of the city’strolleystations.Onandonthehallwaycurved,andtheBaudelairesheardavarietyofcitysounds—thecloppingofhorses’hooves,thegrindingoffactoryequipment,thetolling of church bells and the clatter of people dropping things—but when theyfinally reached the corridor’s end, therewas no sound over their heads at all. TheBaudelairesstoodstillandtriedtoimagineaplaceinthecitywhereitwasabsolutelysilent.

“Wheredoyouthinkweare?”Violetasked,strainingherearstolistenevenmoreclosely.“It’sassilentasatombupthere.”

“That’s notwhat I’mworried about,”Klaus answered, poking thewallwith hisfiretong.“Ican’tfindwhichwaythehallwaycurves.Ithinkwemightbeatadeadend.”

“Adeadend!”Violetsaid,andpokedtheoppositewallwithhertong.“Itcan’tbeadeadend.Nobodybuildsahallwaythatgoesnowhere.”

“Pratjic,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Gunthermusthaveendedupsomewhereifhetookthispassageway.”

“I’mpokingeveryinchofthesewalls,”Klaussaidgrimly,“andthere’snodoororstairwayorcurveoranything.It’sadeadend,allright.There’snootherwordforit.Actually,there’saFrenchexpressionfor‘deadend,’butIcan’trememberwhatis.”

“Iguesswehavetoretraceoursteps,”Violetsaidmiserably.“Iguesswehavetoturnaround,andmakeourwaybackdownthecorridor,andclimbuptothenet,andhaveSunnyteethherwaytothepenthouseandfindsomemorematerialstomakeanersatzrope,andclimballthewayuptothetopfloor,andslidedownthebanisterstothelobby,andsneakpastthedoormanandruntoVeblenHall.”

“Pyetian,”Sunnysaid,whichmeantsomethinglike“We’llnevermakeitthereintimetoexposeGuntherandsavetheQuagmires.”

“I know,” Violet sighed. “But I don’t knowwhat else we can do. It looks likewe’reshorthanded,evenwiththesetongs.”

“Ifwe had some shovels,”Klaus said, “we could try to dig ourway out of thehallway,butwecan’tusethetongsasshovels.”

“Tend,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Ifwehadsomedynamite,wecouldblastourwayoutofthehallway,butwecan’tusethetongsasdynamite.”

“Butwemightbeabletousethemasnoise-makers,”Violetsaidsuddenly.“Let’sbangontheceilingwithourtongs,andseeifwecanattracttheattentionofsomeonewhoispassingby.”

“Itdoesn’tsoundlikeanyoneispassingby,”Klaussaid,“butit’sworthatry.Here,Sunny,I’llpickyouupsoyourtongcanreachtheceiling,too.”

Klaus picked his sister up, and the three children began to bang on the ceiling,planningtomakearacketthatwouldlastforseveralminutes.Butassoonasthetheirtongs firsthit theceiling, theBaudelaireswereshoweredwithblackdust. It raineddownonthemlikeadry,filthystorm,andthechildrenhadtocutshorttheirbangingtocoughandrubtheireyesandspitoutthedustthathadfallenintotheirmouths.

“Ugh!”Violetspat.“Thistastesterrible.”

“Ittasteslikeburnedtoast,”Klaussaid.

“Peflob!”Sunnyshrieked.

Atthat,Violetstoppedcoughing,andlickedthetipofherfingerinthought.“It’sashes,”shesaid.“Maybewe’rebelowafireplace.”

“Idon’tthinkso,”Klaussaid.“Lookup.”

The Baudelaires looked up, and saw that the black dust had uncovered a verysmall stripeof light,barelyaswideasapencil.Thechildrengazedup into it, andcouldseethemorningsungazingrightbackatthem.

“Tisdu?” Sunny said, which meant “Where in the city can you find ashesoutdoors?”

“Maybewe’rebelowabarbequepit,”Klaussaid.

“Well,we’llfindoutsoonenough,”Violetreplied,andbegantosweepmoredustaway from the ceiling.As it fell on the children in a thick, dark cloud, the skinnystripeoflightbecamefourskinnystripes,likeadrawingofasquareontheceiling.Bythelightofthesquare,theBaudelairescouldseeapairofhinges.“Look,”Violetsaid,“it’satrapdoor.Wecouldn’tseeitinthedarknessofthehallway,butthereitis.”

Klauspressedhis tongagainst the trapdoor to try toopen it,but itdidn’tbudge.“It’s locked,ofcourse,”hesaid.“IbetGunther lockeditbehindhimwhenhetooktheQuagmiresaway.”

Violetlookedupatthetrapdoor,andtheotherchildrencouldsee,bythelightofthesunstreamingin,thatshewastyingherhairupinaribbontokeepitoutofhereyes.“Alockisn’tgoingtostopus,”shesaid.“Notwhenwe’vecomeallthisway.Ithink the time is finally ripe for these tongs—not as welding torches, and not asnoisemakers.”Shesmiled,andturnedherattentiontohersiblings.“Wecanusethemascrowbars,”shesaidexcitedly.

“Herdiset?”Sunnyasked.

“A crowbar is a sort of portable lever,”Violet said, “and these tongswillworkperfectly.We’llstickthebentendintothepartwherethelightisshiningthrough,andthenpushtherestofthetongsharplydown.Itshouldbringthetrapdoordownwithit.

Understand?”

“I thinkso,”Klaussaid.“Let’s try.”TheBaudelaires tried.Carefully, theystuckthepartofthetongsthathadbeenheatedintheovenintoonesideofthesquareoflight.And then, gruntingwith the effort, they pushed the straight endof the tongsdown as sharply as they could, and I’m happy to report that the crowbarsworkedperfectly. With a tremendous crackling sound and another cloud of ashes, thetrapdoorbenton its hinges andopened toward the children,whohad toduckas itswungovertheirheads.Sunlightstreamedintothehallway,andtheBaudelairessawthattheyhadfinallycometotheendoftheirlong,darkjourney.“Itworked!”Violetcried.“Itreallyworked!”

“Thetimewasripeforyourinventingskills!”Klauscried.“Thesolutionwasrightonthetipofourtongs!”

“Up!” Sunny shrieked, and the children agreed. By standing on tiptoe, theBaudelairescouldgrabaholdof thehingesandpull themselvesoutof thehallway,leavingbehindtheircrowbars,andinamomentthethreechildrenweresquintinginthesunlight.

Oneofmymostprizedpossessionsisasmallwoodenboxwithaspeciallockonitthatismorethanfivehundredyearsoldandworksaccordingtoasecretcodethatmygrandfather taught me. My grandfather learned it from his grandfather, and hisgrandfatherlearneditfromhisgrandfather,andIwouldteachittomygrandchildifIthought that I would ever have a family of my own instead of living out theremainderofmydaysall alone in thisworld.Thesmallwoodenbox isoneofmymostprizedpossessions,becausewhen the lock isopenedaccording to thecode,asmallsilverkeymaybefoundinside,andthiskeyfitsthelockononeofmyothermost prized possessions, which is a slightly larger wooden box given tome by awoman whom my grandfather always refused to speak about. Inside this slightlylargerwoodenboxisarollofparchment,awordwhichheremeans“someveryoldpaperprintedwithamapofthecityatthetimewhentheBaudelaireorphanslivedinit.”Themaphaseverysingledetailof thecitywrittendownindarkblueink,withmeasurements of buildings and sketches of costumes and charts of changes in theweatheralladdedinthemarginsbythemap’stwelvepreviousowners,allofwhomarenowdead.IhavespentmorehoursthanIcanevercountgoingovereveryinchofthismapascarefullyaspossible,sothateverythingthatcanbelearnedfromitcanbecopied into my files and then into books such as this one, in the hopes that thegeneral public will finally learn every detail of the treacherous conspiracy I havespentmylifetryingtoescape.Themapcontainsthousandsoffascinatingthingsthathave been discovered by all sorts of explorers, criminal investigators, and circusperformersovertheyears,butthemostfascinatingthingthatthemapcontainswasdiscovered just at thismomentby the threeBaudelairechildren.Sometimes, in thedeadofnightwhenIcannotsleep,IrisefrommybedandworkthecodeonthesmallwoodenboxtoretrievethesilverkeythatopenstheslightlylargerwoodenboxsoIcan sit at my desk and look once again, by candlelight, at the two dotted linesindicatingtheundergroundhallwaythatbeginsatthebottomoftheelevatorshaftat667DarkAvenueandendsatthetrapdoorthattheBaudelairesmanagedtoopenwith

their ersatz crowbars. I stare and stare at the part of the city where the orphansclimbedoutof thatghastlycorridor,butnomatterhowmuchIstareIcanscarcelybelievemyowneyes,anymorethantheyoungsterscouldbelievetheirs.

Thesiblingshadbeenindarknessforsolongthattheireyestookalongtimetogetused toproperly lit surroundings, and they stood for amoment, rubbing their eyesand trying to see exactly where the trapdoor had led them. But in the suddenbrightnessofthemorningsun,theonlythingthechildrencouldseewasthechubbyshadowofamanstandingnearthem.

“Excuseme,”Violetcalled,whilehereyeswerestilladjusting.“WeneedtogettoVeblenHall.It’sanemergency.Couldyoutellmewhereitis?”

“Ju-justtwoblo-blocksthatway,”theshadowstuttered,andthechildrengraduallyrealized that it was a slightly overweight mailman, pointing down the street andlookingatthechildrenfearfully.“Pleasedon’thurtme,”themailmanadded,steppingawayfromtheyoungsters.

“We’renotgoingtohurtyou,”Klaussaid,wipingashesoffhisglasses.

“Ghostsalwayssaythat,”themailmansaid,“butthentheyhurtyouanyway.”

“Butwe’renotghosts,”Violetsaid.

“Don’ttellmeyou’renotghosts,”themailmanreplied.“Isawyouriseoutoftheashesmyself,as ifyouhadcomefrom thecenterof theearth.Peoplehavealwayssaidit’shauntedhereontheemptylotwheretheBaudelairemansionburneddown,andnowIknowit’strue.”

ThemailmanranawaybeforetheBaudelairescouldreply,butthethreechildrenweretooamazedbyhiswordstospeaktohimanyway.Theyblinkedandblinkedinthemorningsun,andfinallytheireyesadjustedenoughtoseethatthemailmanwasright.Itwastrue.Itwasnottruethatthethreechildrenwereghosts,ofcourse.Theywere not spooky creatures who had risen from the center of the earth, but threeorphanswhohadhoistedthemselvesoutofthehallway.Butthemailmanhadspokenthe truthwhen he had told themwhere theywere.TheBaudelaire orphans lookedaroundthem,andhuddledtogetherasiftheywerestillinadarkhallwayinsteadofoutdoorsinbroaddaylight,standingamidtheashyruinsoftheirdestroyedhome.

threesiblingswereinnostatetoappreciatearchitecturaldetail.Violetledthewayupthestairs toVeblenHallandgrabbed thedoorknobwithouta thought to theashysmearshewouldleaveonitspolishedsurface.IfIhadbeenwiththeBaudelaires,Ineverwouldhave opened the award-winning door. I would have considered myself lucky to havegottenoutof thenetsuspended in themiddleof theelevatorshaft,and tohaveescapedGunther’s evilplan, and Iwouldhave fled to some remotecornerof theworldandhidfromGuntherandhisassociatesfortherestofmyliferatherthanriskanotherencounterwith this treacherous villain—an encounter, I’m sorry to say, thatwill only bringmoremisery into the threeorphans’ lives.But these three childrenwere farmore courageousthanIshalleverbe,andtheypausedjustforamomenttogatherallofthiscourageupanduseit.

“Beyond this doorknob,”Violet said, “is our last chance at revealingGunther’strueidentityandhisterribleplans.”

“Just past those brass hinges,”Klaus said, “is our final opportunity to save theQuagmiresfrombeingsmuggledoutofthecountry.”

“Sorusu,”Sunnysaid,whichmeant“Behindthosewoodenplanksliestheanswerto themysteryofV.F.D.,andwhy thesecrethallway ledus to theplacewhere theBaudelaire mansion burned to the ground, killing our parents, and beginning theseriesofunfortunateeventsthathauntuswhereverwego.”

TheBaudelaireslookedatoneanotherandstoodupasstraightastheycould,asiftheirbackboneswereasstrongastheircourage,andVioletopenedthedoorofVeblenHall;andinstantlytheorphansfoundthemselvesinthemiddleofahubbub,awordwhich heremeans “a huge crowd of people in an enormous, fancy room.”VeblenHallhadaveryhighceiling,avery shiny floor, andonemassivewindow thathadwonfirstrunnerupfortheWindowPrizethepreviousyear.Hangingfromtheceilingwere three huge banners, onewith theword “In”written on it, onewith theword“Auction”written on it, and one last one, twice as big as the others, with a hugeportraitofGunther.Standingonthefloorwereatleasttwohundredpeople,andtheBaudelaires could tell that it was a very in crowd. Almost everyone was wearingpinstripe suits, sipping tall frosty glasses of parsley soda, and eating salmon puffsofferedbysomecostumedwaitersfromCaféSalmonella,whichhadapparentlybeenhired to cater the auction. The Baudelaires were in regular clothes rather thanpinstripes,andtheywerecoveredindirtfromthetiny,filthyroomatthebottomofthe elevator shaft, and in ashes from theBaudelaire lotwhere thehallwayhad ledthem. The in crowd would have frowned upon such attire had they noticed thechildren,buteveryonewastoobusygazingatthefarendoftheroomtoturnaroundandseewhohadwalkedthroughtheaward-winningdoor.

ForatthefarendofVeblenHall,underneaththebiggestbannerandinfrontofthemassive window, Gunther was standing up on a small stage and speaking into amicrophone.Ononesideofhimwasasmallglassvasewithblueflowerspaintedonit,andontheotherwasEsmé,whowassittinginafancychairandgazingatGuntheras if he were the cat’s pajamas, a phrase which here means “a charming andhandsomegentlemaninsteadofacruelanddishonestvillain.”

“Lot #46, please,” Gunther was saying into the microphone. With all of theirexplorationofdarkpassageways,theBaudelaireshadalmostforgottenthatGuntherwaspretending thathewasn’t fluent inEnglish.“Please,gentlemenand ladies, seethe vase with blue flowers. Vases in. Glass in. Flowers in, please, especially theflowersthatareblue.Whobid?”

“Onehundred,”calledoutavoicefromthecrowd.

“Onehundredfifty,”anothervoicesaid.

“Twohundred,”anothersaid.

“Twohundredfifty,”returnedthepersonwhohadbidfirst.

“Twohundredfifty-three,”anothersaid.

“We’rejustintime,”KlauswhisperedtoViolet.“V.F.D,isLot#50.Dowewaittospeakupuntilthen,ordoweconfrontGuntherrightnow?”

“Idon’tknow,”Violetwhisperedback.“WeweresofocusedongettingtoVeblenHallintimethatweforgottothinkupaplanofaction.”

“Istwohundredfifty-threelastbiddingofpeople,please?”Guntherasked,intothemicrophone. “O.K.Here is vase, please. Givemoney, please, toMrs. Squalor.”Apinstriped woman walked to the edge of the stage and handed a stack of bills toEsmé,who smiled greedily and handed her the vase in exchange.Watching Esmécount the pile of bills and then calmly place them in her pinstripe purse, whilesomewherebackstagetheQuagmiresweretrappedinsidewhateverV.F.D.was,madetheBaudelairesfeelsicktotheirstomachs.

“Evomer,” Sunny said, which meant “I can’t stand it any longer. Let’s telleveryoneinthisroomwhatisreallygoingon.”

“Excuse me,” said somebody, and the three children looked up to see a stern-lookingmanpeeringdownatthemfrombehindsomeverylargesunglasses.Hewasholding a salmon puff in one hand and pointing at theBaudelaireswith the other.“I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoutoleaveVeblenHallatonce,”hesaid.“ThisistheInAuction.It’snoplaceforgrimylittlechildrenlikeyourselves.”

“Butwe’resupposedtobehere,”Violetsaid,thinkingquickly.“We’remeetingourguardians.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” the man said, although it looked like he had neverlaughedinhislife.“Whatsortofpeoplewouldbecaringforsuchdirtylittlekids?”

“JeromeandEsméSqualor,”Klaussaid.“We’vebeenlivingintheirpenthouse.”

“We’llseeaboutthis,”themansaid.“Jerry,getoverhere!”

Atthesoundoftheman’sraisedvoice,afewpeopleturnedaroundandlookedatthechildren,butalmosteveryonekeptlisteningtoGuntherashebegantoauctionoffLot#47,whichheexplainedwasapairofballetslippers,please,madeofchocolate.Jerome

detachedhimselffromasmallcircleofpeopleandwalkedovertothesternmantoseewhatthematterwas.Whenhecaughtsightoftheorphans,helookedasifyoucouldhaveknocked him over with a feather, a phrase which here means he seemed happy butextremelysurprisedtoseethem.

“I’mveryhappytoseeyou,”hesaid,“butextremelysurprised.Esmétoldmeyouweren’tfeelingverywell.”

“Soyouknowthesechildren,Jerome?”themaninsunglassessaid.

“Of course I know them,” Jerome replied. “They’re the Baudelaires. I was justtellingyouaboutthem.”

“Ohyes,”themansaid,losinginterest.“Well,ifthey’reorphans,thenIguessit’sO.K.forthemtobehere.ButJerry,you’vegottobuythemsomenewclothes!”

ThemanwalkedawaybeforeJeromecouldreply.“Idon’tliketobecalledJerry,”

he admitted to the children, “but I don’t like to argue with him, either. Well,Baudelaires,areyoufeelingbetter?”

The children stood for amoment and lookedup at their guardian.Theynoticedthathehadahalf-eatensalmonpuffinhishand,eventhoughhehadtoldthesiblingsthathedidn’tlikesalmon.Jeromehadprobablynotwantedtoarguewiththewaitersin the salmoncostumes, either.TheBaudelaires looked at him, and then looked atoneanother.Theydidnotfeelbetteratall.TheyknewthatJeromewouldnotwanttoarguewiththemiftheytoldhimoncemoreaboutGunther’strueidentity.Hewouldnot want to argue with Esmé if they told him about her part in the treacherousscheme. And he would not want to argue with Gunther if they told him that theQuagmiresweretrappedinsideoneof the itemsat theInAuction.TheBaudelairesdidnot feelbetteratall as they realized that theonlypersonwhocouldhelp themwassomeonewhocouldbeknockedoverwithafeather.

ASeriesofUnfortunateEvents6-TheErsatzElevator

“Menrov?”Sunnysaid.

“Menrov?”Jeromerepeated, smilingdownat the littlestBaudelaire.“Whatdoes‘Menrov?’mean?”

“I’lltellyouwhatitmeans,”Klaussaid,thinkingquickly.PerhapstherewasawaytohaveJeromehelpthem,withoutmakinghimarguewithanyone.“Itmeans‘Wouldyoudousafavor,Jerome?’”

Violet and Sunny looked at their brother curiously. “Menrov?” didn’t mean“Wouldyoudousa favor, Jerome?”andKlausmostcertainlyknew it. “Menrov?”meantsomethingmore like“Shouldwetry to tellJeromeaboutGuntherandEsméandtheQuagmiretriplets?”butthesisterskeptquiet,knowingthatKlausmusthaveagoodreasontolietohisguardian.

“OfcourseI’lldoyouafavor,”Jeromesaid.“Whatisit?”

“MysistersandIwouldreallyliketoownoneofthelotsatthisauction,”Klaussaid.“Wewerewonderingifyoumightbuyitforus,asagift.”

“Isupposeso,”Jeromesaid.“Ididn’tknowyouthreewereinterestedininitems.”

“Oh,yes,”Violetsaid,understandingatoncewhatKlauswasupto.“We’reveryanxioustoownLot#50—V.F.D.”

“V.F.D.?”Jeromeasked.“Whatdoesthatstandfor?”

“It’sasurprise,”Klaussaidquickly.“Wouldyoubidforit?”

“Ifit’sveryimportanttoyou,”Jeromesaid,“IsupposeIwill,butIdon’twantyoutogetspoiled.Youcertainlyarrivedintime.ItlookslikeGuntherisjustfinishingthebiddingonthoseballetshoes,sowe’recomingrightuptoLot#50.Let’sgowatchtheauction fromwhere Iwasstanding.There’sanexcellentviewof thestage,andthere’safriendofyoursstandingwithme.”

“Afriendofours?”Violetasked.

“You’llsee,”Jeromesaid,andtheydidsee.WhentheyfollowedJeromeacrosstheenormousroomtowatchtheauctionunderneaththe“In”banner,theyfoundMr.Poe,holdingaglassofparsleysodaandcoughingintohiswhitehandkerchief.

“You could knock me over with a feather,” Mr. Poe said, when he was donecoughing.“WhatareyouBaudelairesdoinghere?”

“What are you doing here?” Klaus asked. “You told us you would be on ahelicopterridetoamountainpeak.”

Mr.Poepausedtocoughintohiswhitehandkerchiefagain.“Thereportsaboutthe

mountain peak turned out to be false,” Mr. Poe said, when the coughing fit hadpassed.“InowknowforcertainthattheQuagmiretwinsarebeingforcedtoworkata glue factory nearby. I’mheadingover there later, but Iwanted to stop by the InAuction.NowthatI’mVicePresidentinChargeofOrphanAffairs,I’mmakingmoremoney,andmywifewantedtoseeifIcouldbuyabitofoceandecoration.”

“But—”Violetstartedtosay,butMr.Poeshushedher.

“Shush,”hesaid.“GuntherisbeginningLot#48,andthat’swhatIwanttobidon.”

“Please,Lot#48,”Gunther announced.His shinyeyes regarded the crowd frombehindhismonocle,buthedidnotappeartospottheBaudelaires.“Islargestatueoffish,paintedred,please.Verybig,veryin.Bigenoughtosleepinsidethisfish,ifyouareinthemood,please.Whobid?”

“Ibid,Gunther,”Mr.Poecalledout.“Onehundred.”

“Twohundred,”calledoutanothervoicefromthecrowd.

KlausleanedinclosetoMr.PoetotalktohimwithoutJeromehearing.“Mr.Poe,there’ssomethingyoushouldknowaboutGunther,”hesaid,thinkingthatifhecouldconvinceMr.Poe, then theBaudelaireswouldn’t have to continue their charade, awordwhichheremeans“pretending towantV.F.D. soJeromewouldbidon it andsavetheQuagmireswithoutknowingit.”“He’sreally—”

“Aninauctioneer,Iknow,”Mr.Poefinishedforhim,andbidagain.“Twohundredsix.”

“Threehundred,”repliedtheothervoice.

“No, no,”Violet said. “He’s not really an auctioneer at all. He’s CountOlaf indisguise.”

“Three hundred twelve,” Mr. Poe called out, and then frowned down at thechildren.“Don’tberidiculous,”hesaidtothem.“CountOlafisacriminal.Guntherisjustaforeigner.Ican’trememberthewordforafearofforeigners,butIamsurprisedthatyouchildrenhavesuchafear.”

“Fourhundred,”calledouttheothervoice.

“The word is ‘xenophobia,’” Klaus said, “but it doesn’t apply here, becauseGunther’snotreallyaforeigner.He’snotevenreallyGunther!”

Mr.Poetookouthishandkerchiefagain,andtheBaudelaireswaitedashecoughedinto it before replying. “You’re not making any sense,” he said finally. “Can wepleasediscussthisafterIbuythisoceandecoration?Ibidfourhundrednine!”

“Fivehundred,”calledouttheothervoice.

“Igiveup,”Mr.Poesaid,andcoughedintohishandkerchief.“Fivehundredistoomuchtopayforabigherringstatue.”

“Fivehundredishighestbid,please,”Gunthersaid,andsmiledatsomeoneinthecrowd.“PleasewillthewinnergivemoneytoMrs.Squalor,please.”

“Why,look,children,”Jeromesaid.“Thedoormanboughtthatbigredfish.”

“Thedoorman?”Mr.Poesaid,asthedoormanhandedEsméasackofcoinsand,withdifficulty,liftedtheenormousredfishstatueoffthestage,hishandsstillhiddeninhislong,longsleeves.“I’msurprisedthatadoormancanaffordtobuyanythingattheInAuction.”

“Hetoldmeoncehewasanactor,too,”Jeromesaid.“He’saninterestingfellow.Caretomeethim?”

“That’sveryniceofyou,”Mr.Poesaid,andcoughedintohishandkerchief.“I’mcertainlymeetingallsortsofinterestingpeoplesincemypromotion.”

The doorman was struggling past the children with his scarlet herring whenJerometappedhimontheshoulder.“ComemeetMr.Poe,”hesaid.

“Idon’thavetimetomeetanyone,”thedoormanreplied.“Ihavetogetthisintheboss’s truckand—”Thedoormanstoppedmisentencewhenhecaughtsightof theBaudelairechildren.“You’renotsupposedtobehere!”hesaid.“You’renotsupposedtohaveleftthepenthouse.”

“Oh, but they’re feeling better now,” Jerome said, but the doorman wasn’tlistening.Hehad turned around—swatting several pinstripemembers of the crowdwithhisfishstatueashedidso—andwascallinguptothepeopleonthestage.“Hey,boss!”hesaid,andbothEsméandGuntherturnedtolookashepointedatthethreeBaudelaires.“Theorphansarehere!”

Esmégasped,andshewassoaffectedbytheelementofsurprisethatshealmostdroppedhersackofcoins,butGunthermerelyturnedhisheadandlookeddirectlyatthe children.His eyes shonevery, verybrightly, even theonebehindhismonocle,andtheBaudelaireswerehorrifiedtorecognizehisexpression.Guntherwassmilingasifhehadjusttoldajoke,anditwasanexpressionheworewhenhistreacherousmindwasworkingitshardest.

“Orphansin,”hesaid,stillinsistingonpretendingthathecouldnotspeakEnglishproperly.“O.K. fororphans tobehere,please.”Esmé lookedcuriouslyatGunther,but then shrugged, and gestured to the doorman with a long-nailed hand thateverything was O.K. The doorman shrugged back at her, and then gave theBaudelairesastrangesmileandwalkedoutoftheaward-winningdoor.“WewillskipLot #49, please,” Gunther continued. “We will bid on Lot #50, please, and then,please,auctionisover.”

“Butwhataboutalltheotheritems?”someonecalled.

“Skip‘em,”Esmésaiddismissively.“I’vemadeenoughmoneytoday.”

“IneverthoughtI’dhearEsmésaythat,”Jeromemurmured.

“Lot #50, please,”Gunther announced, and pushed an enormous cardboard boxonto the stage. Itwas as big as the fish statue—just the right size for storing twosmall children. The box had “V.F.D.” printed on it in big black letters, and theBaudelairessawthatsometinyairholeshadbeenpokedinthetop.Thethreesiblingscouldpicturetheirfriends,trappedinsidetheboxandterrifiedthattheywereabouttobesmuggledoutofthecity.“V.F.D.please,”Gunthersaid.“Whobid?”

“Ibidtwenty,”Jeromesaid,andwinkedatthechildren.

“Whatintheworldis‘V.F.D.’?”Mr.Poeasked.

Violetknewthatshehadno time to try toexplaineverything toMr.Poe.“It’sasurprise,”shesaid.“Stickaroundandfindout.”

“Fifty,”saidanothervoice,andtheBaudelairesturnedtoseethatthissecondbidhadcomefromthemaninsunglasseswhohadaskedthemtoleave.

“That doesn’t look like one of Gunther’s assistants,” Klaus whispered to hissisters.

“Youneverknow,”Violetreplied.“They’rehardtospot.”

“Fifty-five,” Jerome called out. Esmé frowned at him, and then gave theBaudelairesaverymeanglare.

“Onehundred,”themaninsunglassessaid.

“Goodness,children,”Jeromesaid.“Thisisgettingveryexpensive.AreyousureyouwantthisV.F.D.?”

“You’rebuying this for the children?”Mr.Poe said. “Please,Mr.Squalor, don’tspoiltheseyoungsters.”

“He’s not spoiling us!”Violet said, afraid thatGuntherwould stop the bidding.“Please,Jerome,pleasebuyLot#50forus.We’llexplaineverythinglater.”

Jerome sighed. “Very well,” he said. “I guess it’s only natural that you’d wantsomeinthings,afterspendingtimewithEsmé.Ibidonehundredeight.”

“Twohundred,”themaninsunglassessaid.TheBaudelairescranedtheirneckstotry and get a better look at him, but theman in sunglasses didn’t look anymorefamiliar.

“Twohundredfour,”Jeromesaid,andthenlookeddownatthechildren.“Iwon’tbidanyhigher,children.Thisisgettingmuchtooexpensive,andbiddingistoomuchlikearguingformetoenjoyit.”

“Threehundred,”themaninsunglassessaid,andtheBaudelairechildrenlookedatoneanother inhorror.Whatcould theydo?Their friendswereabout to slipoutoftheirgrasp.

“Please,Jerome,”Violetsaid.“Ibegofyou,pleasebuythisforus.”

Jeromeshookhishead.“Somedayyou’llunderstand,”hesaid.“It’snotworthittospendmoneyonsillyinthings.”

Klaus turned toMr. Poe. “Mr. Poe,” he said, “would you bewilling to loan ussomemoneyfromthebank?”

“Tobuyacardboardbox?”Mr.Poesaid.“Ishouldsaynot.Oceandecorationsareonething,butIdon’twantyouchildrenwastingmoneyonaboxofsomething,nomatterwhatitis.”

“Final bid is three hundred, please,” Gunther said, turning and giving Esmé a

monocledwink.“Please,sir,if—”

“Thousand!”

GuntherstoppedatthesoundofanewbidderforLot#50.Esmé‘seyeswidened,and she grinned at the thought of putting such an enormous sum in her pinstripepurse.The in crowd looked around, trying to figureoutwhere this newvoicewascomingfrom,butnobodysuspectedsuchalongandvaluablewordwouldoriginateinthemouthofatinybabywhowasnobiggerthanasalami.

“Thousand!”Sunnyshriekedagain,andhersiblingsheldtheirbreath.Theyknew,ofcourse, that their sisterhadnosuchsumofmoney,but theyhoped thatGunthercouldnotseewherethisbidwascomingfrom,andwouldbetoogreedytofindout.TheersatzauctioneerlookedatEsmé,andthenagainoutintothecrowd.

“WhereintheworlddidSunnygetthatkindofmoney?”JeromeaskedMr.Poe.

“Well, when the childrenwere in boarding school,”Mr. Poe answered, “Sunnyworkedasareceptionist,butIhadnoideathathersalarywasthathigh.”

“Thousand!”Sunnyinsisted,andfinallyGunthergavein.

“Thehighestbidisnowonethousand,”hesaid,andthenrememberedtopretendthathewasn’tfluentinEnglish.“Please,”headded.

“Goodgrief!” theman in sunglasses said. “I’mnotgoing topaymore thanonethousandforV.F.D.It’snotworthit.”

“It is tous,”Violetsaidfiercely,andthethreechildrenwalkedtowardthestage.Everyeyeinthecrowdfellonthesiblingsastheyleftanashytrailbehindthemontheirwaytothecardboardbox.Jeromelookedconfused.Mr.Poelookedbefuddled,awordwhichheremeans“asconfusedasJerome.”Esmélookedvicious.Themaninsunglasseslookedlikehehadlostanauction.AndGuntherkeptsmiling,asifajokehehadtoldwasonlygettingfunnierandfunnier.VioletandKlausclimbeduponthestage and then hoisted Sunny up alongside them, and the three orphans lookedfiercelyattheterriblemanwhohadimprisonedtheirfriends.

“Giveyourthousand,please,toMrs.Squalor,”Gunthersaid,grinningdownatthechildren.“Andthenauctionisover.”

“Theonlythingthatisover,”Klaussaid,“isyourhorribleplan.”

“Silko!”Sunnyagreed,andthen,usingherteetheventhoughtheywerestillsorefromclimbingup theelevatorshaft, theyoungestBaudelairebit into thecardboardboxandbegan ripping it apart,hoping that shewasn’thurtingDuncanand IsadoraQuagmireasshedidso.

“Waitaminute,kids!”Esmésnarled,gettingoutofherfancychairandstompingover to the box. “You can’t open the box until you give me the money. That’sillegal!”

“What is illegal,” Klaus said, “is auctioning off children. And soon this wholeroomwillseethatyouhavebrokenthelaw!”

“What’s this?”Mr. Poe asked, striding toward the stage. Jerome followed him,

lookingfromtheorphanstohiswifeinconfusion.

“TheQuagmiretripletsareinthisbox,”Violetexplained,helpinghersistertearitopen.“GuntherandEsméaretryingtosmugglethemoutofthecountry.”

“What?”Jeromecried.“Esmé,isthistrue?”

Esmédidnotreply,butinamomenteveryonewouldseeifitwastrueornot.Thechildrenhadtornawayalargesectionofthecardboard,andtheycouldseealayerofwhitepaperinside,asifGuntherhadwrappeduptheQuagmiresthewayyoumighthavethebutcherwrapupapairofchickenbreasts.

“Hang on, Duncan !” Violet called, into the paper. “Just a few more seconds,Isadora!We’regettingyououtofthere!”

Mr. Poe frowned, and coughed into his white handkerchief. “Now look here,Baudelaires,” he said sternly, when his coughing spell was over, “I have reliableinformationthattheQuagmiresareinagluefactory,notinsideacardboardbox.”

“We’llseeaboutthat,”Klaussaid,andSunnygavetheboxanotherbigbite.Witha loud shredding sound it split right down themiddle, and the contents of theboxspilledoutalloverthestage.Itisnecessarytousetheexpression“aredherring”todescribewhatwas inside the cardboard box.A red herring, of course, is a type offish, but it is also an expression that means “a distracting and misleading clue.”Gunther had used the initials V.F.D. on the box to mislead the Baudelaires intothinking that their friends were trapped inside, and I’m sorry to tell you that theBaudelairesdidnotrealizeitwasaredherringuntiltheylookedaroundthestageandsawwhattheboxcontained.

“Ofcourse,”themaninsunglassessaid.Heapproachedthestageandremovedhissunglasses,andtheBaudelairescouldseethathewasn’toneofGunther’sassociatesafterall.Hewas justabidder, inapinstripesuit.“Iwasgoing togive themtomybrother forabirthdaypresent.They’reVeryFancyDoilies.WhatelsecouldV.F.D.standfor?”

“Yes,”Gunthersaid,smilingatthechildren.“Whatelsecoulditstandfor,please?”

“I don’t know,” Violet said, “but the Quagmires didn’t find out a secret aboutfancynapkins.Wherehaveyouputthem,Olaf?”

“WhatisOlaf,please?”Guntherasked.

“Now,Violet,” Jerome said. “We agreed thatwewouldn’t argue aboutGuntheranymore.Pleaseexcusethesechildren,Gunther.Ithinktheymustbeill.”

“We’renot ill!”Klauscried.“We’vebeen tricked!Thisboxofdoilieswasaredherring!”

“ButtheredherringwasLot#48,”someoneinthecrowdsaid.

“Children,I’mverydisturbedbyyourbehavior,”Mr.Poesaid.“Youlooklikeyouhaven’twashedinaweek.You’respendingyourmoneyonridiculousitems.YourunaroundaccusingeverybodyofbeingCountOlafindisguise.Andnowyou’vemadeabigmessofdoiliesonthefloor.Someoneislikelytotripandfallonalltheseslippery

napkins. I would have thought that the Squalors would be raising you better thanthis.”

“Well, we’re not going to raise them anymore,” Esmé said. “Not after they’vemadesuchaspectacleof themselves.Mr.Poe,Iwant theseterriblechildrenplacedoutofmycare.It’snotworthittohaveorphans,evenifthey’rein.”

“Esmé!”Jeromecried.“Theylosttheirparents!Whereelsecantheygo?”

“Don’targuewithme,”Esmésnapped,“andI’lltellyouwheretheycango.Theycan—”

“Withme,please,”Gunthersaid,andplacedoneofhisscragglyhandsonViolet’sshoulder.Violetrememberedwhenthistreacherousvillainhadplottedtomarryher,andshudderedunderneathhisgreedyfingers.“Iamlovingofthechildren.Iwouldbehappy,please,toraisethreechildrenofmyown.”HeputhisotherscragglyhandonKlaus’sshoulder,andthensteppedforwardasifhewasgoingtoputoneofhisbootsonSunny’sshouldersoallthreeBaudelaireswouldbelockedinasinisterembrace.ButGunther’s footdidnot landonSunny’sshoulder. It landedonadoily,and inasecond Mr. Poe’s prediction that someone would trip and fall came true. With apaperythump!Guntherwassuddenlyontheground,hisarmsflailingwildlyin thedoiliesandhislegsflailingmadlyonthefloorofthestage.“Please!”heshoutedashehit theground,buthiswiggling limbsonlymadehimslipmore,and thedoiliesbegan to spread out across the stage and fall to the floor of Veblen Hall. TheBaudelaires watched the fancy napkins flutter around them, making flimsy,whisperingsoundsastheyfell,butthentheyheardtwoweightysounds,oneaftertheother,asifGunther’sfallhadmadesomethingheavierfalltothefloor,andwhentheyturnedtheirheadstofollowthesound,theysawGunther’sbootslyingonthefloor,oneatJerome’sfeetandoneatMr.Poe’s.

“Please!”Gunthershoutedagain,ashestruggledtostandup,butwhenhefinallygottohisfeet,everyoneelseintheroomwaslookingatthem.

“Look!” themanwhohadbeenwearingsunglassessaid.“Theauctioneerwasn’twearinganysocks!That’snotverypolite!”

“And look!” someone else said. “Hehas adoily stuckbetween twoofhis toes!That’snotverycomfortable!”

“And look!” Jerome said. “He has a tattoo of an eye on his ankle! He’s notGunther!”

“He’snotanauctioneer!”Mr.Poecried.“He’snotevenaforeigner!He’sCountOlaf!”

“He’s more than Count Olaf,” Esmé said, walking slowly toward the terriblevillain.“He’sagenius!He’sawonderfulacting teacher!Andhe’s thehandsomest,innestmanintown!”

“Don’tbeabsurd!”Jeromesaid.“Ruthlesskidnappingvillainsaren’tin!”

“You’re right,” saidCountOlaf,andwhata relief it is tocallhimbyhispropername.Olaf tossedawayhismonocleandputhisarmaroundEsmé.“We’renot in.

We’reout—outofthecity!Comeon,Esmé!”

With a shriek of laughter, Olaf took Esmé‘s hand and leaped from the stage,elbowingasidetheincrowdashebeganrunningtowardtheexit.

“They’re escaping!”Violet cried, and jumped off the stage to chase after them.Klaus andSunny followedher as fast as their legs could carry them,butOlaf andEsmé had longer legs, which in this case was just as unfair an advantage as theelementofsurprise.BythetimetheBaudelaireshadruntothebannerwithGunther’sfaceonit,OlafandEsméhadreachedthebannerwith“Auction”printedonit,andby the time thechildren reached thatbanner, the twovillainshad runpast the“In”bannerandthroughtheaward-winningdoorofVeblenHall.

“Egad!”Mr.Poecried.“Wecan’tletthatdreadfulmanescapeforthesixthtime!Afterhim,everyone!Thatmaniswantedforawidevarietyofviolentandfinancialcrimes!”

Theincrowdsprangintoaction,andbeganchasingafterOlafandEsmé,andyoumaychoose tobelieve,as thisstorynears itsconclusion, thatwithsomanypeoplechasing after thiswretched villain, itwould be impossible for him to escape.Youmaywish to close this bookwithout finishing it, and imagine thatOlaf andEsméwerecaptured,andthattheQuagmiretripletswererescued,andthatthetruemeaningofV.F.D.was discovered and that themystery of the secret hallway to the ruinedBaudelaire mansion was solved and that everyone held a delightful picnic tocelebrateallthisgoodfortuneandthattherewereenoughicecreamsandwichestogoaround.Icertainlywouldn’tblameyouforimaginingthesethings,becauseIimaginethemallthetime.Lateatnight,whennoteventhemapofthecitycancomfortme,Iclose my eyes and imagine all those happy comforting things surrounding theBaudelairechildren,insteadofallthosedoiliesthatsurroundedthemandbroughtyetanother scoop ofmisfortune into their lives. Because when Count Olaf and EsméSqualorflungopenthedoorofVeblenHall,theyletinanafternoonbreezethatmadeall the very fancy doilies flutter over the Baudelaires’ heads and then settle backdownonthefloorbehindthem,andinoneslipperymomenttheentireincrowdwasfallingalloveroneanotherinapapery,pinstripeblur.Mr.PoefellonJerome.Jeromefell on the man who had been wearing sunglasses, and his sunglasses fell on thewomanwhohadbidhighestonLot#47.Thatwomandroppedherchocolateballetslippers,andthoseslippersfellonCountOlaf’sboots,andthosebootsfellonthreemoredoilies thatmade fourmorepeopleslipand fallononeanotherandsoon theentirecrowdwasinahopelesstangle.ButtheBaudelairesdidnotevenglancebacktoseethelatestgriefthatthedoilieshadcaused.Theykepttheireyesonthepairofloathsome people who were running down the steps of Veblen Hall toward a bigblackpickuptruck.Behindthewheelofthepickuptruckwasthedoorman,whohadfinallydonethesensiblethingandrolleduphisoversizedsleeves,butthatmusthavebeenadifficulttask,forasthechildrengazedintothetrucktheycaughtaglimpseoftwohookswherethedoorman’shandsshouldhavebeen.

“Thehook-handedman!”Klaus cried. “Hewas right under our noses the entiretime!”

CountOlafturnedtosneeratthechildrenjustashereachedthepickuptruck.“Hemight havebeen right underyournoses,” he snarled, “but soonhewill be at yourthroats. I’llbeback,Baudelaires!Soon theQuagmiresapphireswillbemine,but Ihaven’tforgottenaboutyourfortune!”

“Gonope?”Sunnyshrieked,andVioletwasquicktotranslate.

“WhereareDuncanandIsadora?”shesaid.“Wherehaveyoutakenthem?”

OlafandEsmélookedatoneanother,andburstintolaughterastheyslippedintothe black truck.Esmé jerked a long-nailed thumb toward the flatbed,which is thewordforthebackpartofapickupwherethingsarestored.“Weusedtworedherringstofoolyou,”shesaid,asthetruck’sengineroaredintolife.Thechildrencouldsee,inthebackofthetruck,thebigredherringthathadbeenLot#48intheInAuction.

“TheQuagmires!”Klaus cried. “Olaf has them trapped inside that statue!” Theorphans raced down the steps of the hall, and once again, you may find it morepleasanttoputdownthisbook,andcloseyoureyes,andimagineabetterendingtothis tale than theone that Imustwrite.Youmay imagine, for instance, that as theBaudelairesreachedthetruck,theyheardthesoundoftheenginestalling,insteadofthe tooting of the horn as the hook-handedman drove his bosses away. YoumayimaginethatthechildrenheardthesoundsoftheQuagmiresescapingfromthestatueof the herring, instead of the word “Toodle-oo!” coming from Esmé‘s villainousmouth.AndyoumayimaginethesoundofpolicesirensasCountOlafwascaughtatlast,insteadoftheweepingoftheBaudelaireorphansastheblacktruckroundedthecorneranddisappearedfromview.

Butyourimaginingswouldbeersatz,asallimaginingsare.TheyareasuntrueastheersatzauctioneerwhofoundtheBaudelairesattheSqualors’penthouse,andtheersatz elevator outside their front door and the ersatz guardian who pushed themdownthedeeppitoftheelevatorshaft.Esméhidherevilplanbehindherreputationas thecity’ssixthmost important financialadvisor,andCountOlafhidhis identitybehind a monocle and some black boots, and the dark passageway hid its secretsbehindapairofslidingelevatordoors,butasmuchasitpainsmetotellyouthattheBaudelaire orphans stood on the steps of Veblen Hall, weeping with anguish andfrustration as CountOlaf rode awaywith theQuagmire triplets, I cannot hide theunfortunatetruthsoftheBaudelaires’livesbehindanersatzhappyending.

TheBaudelaireorphansstoodonthestepsofVeblenHall,weepingwithanguishandfrustrationasCountOlafrodeawaywiththeQuagmiretriplets,andthesightofMr.Poeemergingfromtheaward-winningdoor,withadoilyinhishairandalookofpanicinhiseye,onlymadethemweepharder.

“I’llcall thepolice,”Mr.Poesaid,“andthey’llcaptureCountOlafinnotimeatall,”buttheBaudelairesknewthatthisstatementwasasersatzasGunther’simproperEnglish.TheyknewthatOlafwasfartooclevertobecapturedbythepolice,andI’msorry to say that by the time two detectives found the big black pickup truck,abandonedoutsideSt.Carl’sCathedralwiththemotorstillrunning,Olafhadalreadytransferred the Quagmires from the red herring to a shiny black instrument case,which he told the bus driver was a tuba he was bringing to his aunt. The three

siblings watchedMr. Poe scurry back into Veblen Hall to ask members of the incrowdwherehe could find aphonebooth, and theyknew that thebankerwasnotgoingtobeofanyhelp.

“I thinkMr.Poewillbeagreatdealofhelp,” Jeromesaid,ashewalkedoutofVeblenHallandsatdownonthestepstotrytocomfortthechildren.“He’sgoingtocallthepolice,andgivethemadescriptionofOlaf.”

“But Olaf is always in disguise,” Violet said miserably, wiping her eyes. “Youneverknowwhathe’lllooklikeuntilyouseehim.”

“Well,I’mgoingtomakesureyouneverseehimagain,”Jeromepromised.“Esmémayhaveleft–andI’mnotgoingtoarguewithher—butI’mstillyourguardian,andI’mgoingtotakeyoufar,farawayfromhere,sofarawaythatyou’llforgetallaboutCountOlafandtheQuagmiresandeverythingelse.”

“Forget aboutOlaf?”Klaus asked. “Howcanwe forget about him?We’ll neverforgethistreachery,nomatterwherewelive.”

“Andwe’llneverforgettheQuagmires,either,”Violetsaid.“Idon’twanttoforgetaboutthem.Wehavetofigureoutwherehe’stakingourfriends,andhowtorescuethem.”

“Tercul!”Sunny said,whichmeant somethingalong the linesof “Andwedon’twanttoforgetabouteverythingelse,either-liketheundergroundhallwaythatledtoourruined

mansion,andtherealmeaningofV.F.D.!”

“My sister is right,”Klaus said. “Wehave to track downOlaf and learn all thesecretshe’skeepingfromus.”

“We’re not going to track downOlaf,” Jerome said, shuddering at the thought.“We’llbeluckyifhedoesn’ttrackusdown.Asyourguardian,Icannotallowyoutotrytofindsuchadangerousman.Wouldn’tyouratherlivesafelywithme?”

“Yes,” Violet admitted, “but our friends are in grave danger. We must go andrescue

them.”

“Well, Idon’twant toargue,”Jeromesaid.“Ifyou’vemadeupyourmind, thenyou’vemadeupyourmind.I’lltellMr.Poetofindyouanotherguardian.”

“Youmeanyouwon’thelpus?”Klausasked.

Jeromesighed,andkissedeachBaudelaireontheforehead.“Youchildrenareverydear to me,” he said, “but I don’t have your courage. Your mother always said Iwasn’tbraveenough,andIguessshewasright.Goodluck,Baudelaires.Ithinkyouwillneedit.”

The children watched in amazement as Jerome walked away, not even lookingback at the three orphans hewas leaving behind.They found their eyes brimmingwith tearsoncemoreas theywatchedhimdisappear fromsight.TheywouldneverseetheSqualorpenthouseagain,orspendanothernightintheirbedrooms,orspend

evenamomentintheiroversizedpinstripesuits.ThoughhewasnotasdastardlyasEsméorCountOlaf or thehook-handedman, Jeromewas still an ersatz guardian,because a real guardian is supposed to provide a home,with a place to sleep andsomething to wear, and all Jerome had given them in the end was “Good luck.”Jeromereachedtheendoftheblockandturnedleft,andtheBaudelaireswereonceagainaloneintheworld.

Violetsighed,andstareddownthestreetinthedirectionOlafhadescaped.“Ihopemyinventingskillsdon’tfailme,”shesaid,“becausewe’regoingtoneedmorethangoodlucktorescuetheQuagmiretriplets.”

Klaus sighed, and stareddown the street in thedirectionof the ashy remainsoftheir firsthome.“Ihopemyresearchskillsdon’t failme,”hesaid,“becausewe’regoing to need more than good luck to solve the mystery of the hallway and theBaudelairemansion.”

Sunnysighed,andwatchedasalonedoilyblewdownthestairs.“Bite,”shesaid,andshemeantthatshehopedherteethwouldn’tfailher,becausethey’dneedmorethangoodlucktodiscoverwhatV.F.D.reallystoodfor.

The Baudelaires looked at one another with faint smiles. They were smilingbecausetheydidn’tthinkViolet’sinventingskillswouldfail,anymorethanKlaus’sresearchskillswouldfailorSunny’steethwouldfail.Butthechildrenalsoknewthattheywouldn’tfaileachother,asJeromehadfailedthemandasMr.Poewasfailingthemnow,ashedialedthewrongnumberandwastalkingtoaVietnameserestaurantinstead of the police.Nomatter howmanymisfortunes had befallen them and nomatter howmany ersatz things theywould encounter in the future, theBaudelaireorphans knew they could rely on each other for the rest of their lives, and this, atleast,feltliketheonethingintheworldthatwastrue.

AbouttheAuthor

LEMONYSNICKET’Sextendedfamily,iftheywerealive,woulddescribehimasadistinguishedscholar,anamateurconnoisseur,andanoutrightgentleman.Unfortunatelythis description has been challenged of late, butHarperCollins continues to support hisresearchandwritingonthelivesoftheBaudelaireorphans.

BRETTHELQUISTwasborninGanado,Arizona,grewupinOrem,Utah,andnowlivesinNewYorkCity.Heearnedabachelor’sdegreeinfineartsfromBrighamYoungUniversityandhasbeenillustratingeversince.Hisarthasappearedinmanypublications,includingCricketmagazineandTheNewYorkTimes.

ToMyKindEditor,

Iamsorrythispaperissoppingwet,butIamwritingthisfromtheplacewheretheQuagmireTripletswerehidden.

Thenexttimeyourunoutofmilk,buyanewcartonatCashRegister#19oftheNot-Very-Supermarket.Whenyouarrivehome,youwill findmydescriptionof theBaudelaires’recentexperiencesinthisdreadfultownentitledTHEVILEVILLAGEhas been tucked into your grocery sack along with a burnt-out torch, the tip of aharpoon,andachartofthemigrationpathsoftheV.F.D.crows.Thereisalsoacopyof the official portrait of the Council of Elders, to help Mr. Helquist with hisillustrations.

Remember,youaremylasthope that the talesof theBaudelaireorphanscanbetoldtothegeneralpublic.

Withallduerespect,

LemonySnicket