"We hit the jackpot," Klaus whispered, and Sunny nodded in agreement. The two younger Baudelaires were using an expression which here means "Look at these fire tongs--they're perfect!" and they were absolutely right. "Fireplaces must have been in at some point," Klaus explained, holding up three long, slender pieces of iron, "because Sunny remembered that living room with six fireplaces between the ballroom with the green walls and the bathroom with that funny-looking sink. Next to the fireplaces are fire tongs--you know, these long pieces of iron that people use to move logs around to keep a fire going. I figured that if they can touch burning logs, they'll be able to survive a hot oven."
"You really did hit the jackpot," Violet said. "Fire tongs are perfect. Now, when I open the door of the oven, you put them in, Klaus. Sunny, stand back. Babies shouldn't be near a hot oven."
"Prawottle," Sunny said. She meant something like "Older children aren't supposed to be near a hot oven either, especially without adult supervision," but she understood that it was an emergency and crawled to the opposite end of the kitchen, where she could safely watch her older siblings put the long, slender tongs into the hot oven. Like most ovens, the Squalors' bright blue oven was designed for baking cakes and casseroles, not fire tongs, and it was impossible to shut the door of the oven with the long pieces of iron inside. So, as the Baudelaire orphans waited for the pieces of iron to heat up into welding torches, the kitchen heated up as well, as some of the hot air from the oven escaped out the open door. By the time Klaus asked if the welding torches were ready, the kitchen felt as if it were an oven instead of merely containing one.
"Not yet," Violet replied, peering carefully into the open oven door. "The tips of the tongs are just beginning to get yellow with heat. We need them to get white with heat, so it will still be a few minutes."
"I'm nervous," Klaus said, and then corrected himself. "I mean I'm anxious. I don't like leaving the Quagmires down there all alone."
"I'm anxious, too," Violet said, "but the only thing we can do now is wait. If we take the iron out of the oven now, it won't be of any use to us by the time we get all the way down to the cage."
Klaus and Sunny sighed, but they nodded in agreement with their sister and settled down to wait for the welding torches to be ready, and as they waited, they felt as if this particular kitchen in the Squalor penthouse was being remodeled before their very eyes. When the Baudelaires had searched the apartment to see if Gunther was hiding in it, they had left crumbs in an assortment of bedrooms, living rooms, dining rooms, breakfast rooms, snack rooms, sitting rooms, standing rooms, bathrooms, ballrooms, and kitchens, as well as those rooms that seemed to have no purpose at all, 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 for waiting, as well as piles of old, dull magazines to read and some vapid paintings--the word "vapid" here means "usually containing horses in a field or puppies in a basket"--while you endure the boredom that doctors and dentists inflict on their patients before bringing them in to poke them and prod them and do all the miserable things that such people are paid to do. It is very rare to have a waiting room in someone's home, because even a home as enormous as the Squalors' does not contain a doctor's or dentist's office, and also because waiting rooms are so uninteresting that you would never want one in the place where you live. The Baudelaires had certainly never wished that the Squalors had a waiting room in their penthouse, but as they sat and waited for Violet's invention to be ready to use, they felt as if waiting rooms were suddenly in and Esmé had ordered one constructed right there in the kitchen. The kitchen cabinets were not painted with horses in a field or puppies in a basket, and there were no old, dull magazine articles printed on the bright blue stove, but as the three children waited for the iron objects to turn yellow and then orange and then red as they grew hotter and hotter and hotter, they felt the same itchy nervousness as they did when waiting for a trained medical professional.
But at last the fire tongs were white-hot, and were ready for their welding appointment with the thick iron bars of the cage. Violet passed out an oven mitt to each of her siblings and then put the third one on her own hand to carefully remove each tong from the oven. "Hold them very, very carefully," she said, giving an ersatz welding torch to each of her siblings. "They're hot enough to melt metal, so just imagine what they could do if they touched us. But I'm sure we can manage."
"It'll be tougher to go down this time," Klaus said, as he followed his sisters to the front door of the penthouse. He held his fire tong straight up, as if it were a regular torch instead of a welding one, and he kept his eye on the white-hot part so that it wouldn't brush up against anything or anybody. "We'll each have to keep one hand free to hold the torch. But I'm sure we can manage."
"Zelestin," Sunny said, when the children reached the sliding doors of the ersatz elevator. She meant something along the lines of "It'll be terrifying to climb down that horrible passageway again," but after she said "Zelestin" she added the word "Enipy," which meant "But I'm sure we can manage," and the youngest Baudelaire was as sure as her siblings. The three children stood at the edge of the dark passageway, but they did not pause to gather their courage, as they had done before their first descent into the gaping shaft. Their welding torches were hot, as Violet had said, and going down would be tough, as Klaus had said, and the climb would be terrifying, as Sunny had said, but the siblings looked at one another and knew they could manage. The Quagmire triplets were counting on them, and the Baudelaire orphans were sure that this only hope would work after all.
CHAPTER
Nine
One of the greatest myths in the world---and the phrase "greatest myths" is just a fancy way of saying "big fat lies"--is that troublesome things get less and less troublesome if you do them more and more. People say this myth when they are teaching children to ride bicycles, for instance, as though falling off a bicycle and skinning your knee is less troublesome the fourteenth time you do it than it is the first time. The truth is that troublesome things tend to remain troublesome no matter how many times you do them, and that you should avoid doing them unless they are absolutely urgent.
Obviously, it was absolutely urgent for the Baudelaire orphans to take another three-hour climb down into the terrible darkness of the elevator shaft. The children knew that the Quagmire triplets were in grave danger, and that using Violet's invention to melt the bars of the cage was the only way that their friends could escape before Gunther hid them inside one of the items of the In Auction, and smuggled them out of the city. But I'm sorry to say that the absolute urgency of the Baudelaires' second climb did not make it any less troublesome. The passageway was still as dark as a bar of extra-dark chocolate sitting in a planetarium covered in a thick, black blanket, even with the tiny glow from the white-hot tips of the fire tongs, and the sensation of lowering themselves down the elevator shaft still felt like a descent into the hungry mouth of some terrible creature. With only the clink! of the last extension cord hitting the lock of the cage to guide them, the three siblings pulled themselves down the ersatz rope with one hand, and held out their welding torches with the other, and the trek down to the tiny, filthy room where the triplets were trapped was still not even one twenty-seventh O.K.
But the dreadful repetition of the Baudelaires' troublesome climb was dwarfed in comparison with the sinister surprise they found at the bottom, a surprise so terrible that the three children simply refused to believe it. Violet reached the end of the final extension cord and thought it was a hallucination. Klaus stood looking at the cage and thought that it must be a phantasm. And Sunny peered in through the bars and prayed that it was some combination of the two. The youngsters stared at the tiny, filthy room, and stared at the cage, but it took them several minutes before they believed that the Quagmires were no longer inside.
"They're gone," Violet said. "They're gone, and it's all my fault!" She threw her welding torch into the corner of
the tiny room, where it sizzled against the floor. She turned to her siblings, and they could see, by the white glow of their tongs, that their older sister was beginning to cry. "My invention was supposed to save them," she said mournfully, "and now Gunther has snatched them away. I'm a terrible inventor, and a horrible friend."
Klaus threw his welding torch into the corner, and gave his sister a hug. "You're the best inventor I know," he said, "and your invention was a good one. Listen to those welding torches sizzle. The time just wasn't ripe for your invention, that's all."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Violet said miserably.
Sunny threw the last welding torch into the corner, and took off her oven mitt so she could pat her sister comfortingly on the ankle. "Noque, noque," she said, which meant "There, there."
"All it means," Klaus said, "is that you invented something that wasn't handy at this particular time. It's not your fault that we didn't rescue them--it's Gunther's."
"I guess I know that," Violet said, wiping her eyes. "I'm just sad that the time wasn't ripe for my invention. Who knows if we will ever see our friends again?"
"We will," Klaus said. "Just because the time isn't right for your inventing skills, doesn't meant it isn't ripe for my researching skills."
"Dwestall," Sunny said sadly, which meant "All the research in the world can't help Duncan and Isadora now."
"That's where you're wrong, Sunny," Klaus replied. "Gunther might have snatched them, but we know where he's taking them--to Veblen Hall. He's going to hide them inside one of the items at the In Auction, remember?"
"Yes," Violet said, "but which one?"
"If we climb back up to the penthouse," Klaus said, "and go to the Squalor library, I think I can figure it out."
"Meotze," Sunny said, which meant "But the Squalor library has only those snooty books on what's in and what's out."
"You're forgetting the recent addition to the library," Klaus said. "Esmé told us that Gunther had left a copy of the In Auction catalog, remember? Wherever he's planning to hide the Quagmires, it'll be listed in the catalog. If we can figure out which item he's hiding them in--"
"We can get them out of there," Violet finished, "before he auctions them off. That's a brilliant idea, Klaus!"
"It's no less brilliant than inventing welding torches," Klaus said. "I just hope the time is ripe this time."
"Me too," Violet said. "After all, it's our only--"
"Vinung," Sunny said, which meant "Don't say it," and her sister nodded in agreement. There was no use in saying it was their only hope, and getting them as anxious as they were before, so without another word the Baudelaires hoisted themselves back up on their makeshift rope and began climbing back up to the Squalor penthouse. The darkness closed in on them again, and the children began to feel as if their whole lives had been spent in this deep and shadowy pit, instead of in a variety of locations ranging from a lumbermill in Paltryville to a cave on the shores of Lake Lachrymose to the Baudelaire mansion, which sat in charred remains just a few blocks away from Dark Avenue. But rather than think about all of the shadowy places in the Baudelaire past, or the shadowiest place that they were climbing through now, the three siblings tried to concentrate on the brighter places in the Baudelaire future. They thought of the penthouse apartment, which drew closer and closer to them as they climbed.
They thought of the Squalor library, which could contain the proper information they needed to defeat Gunther's plan. And they thought of some glorious time that was yet to come, when the Baudelaires and the Quagmires could enjoy their friendship without the ghastly shadow of evil and greed that hung over them now. The Baudelaire orphans tried to keep their minds on these bright thoughts of the future as they climbed up the shadowy elevator shaft, and by the time they reached the sliding doors they felt that perhaps this glorious time was not so far off.
"It must almost be morning," Violet said, as she helped Sunny hoist herself out of the elevator doors. "We'd better untie our rope from the doorknob, and shut these doors, otherwise the Squalors will see what we've been up to."
"Why shouldn't they see?" Klaus asked. "Maybe then they'd believe us about Gunther."
"No one ever believes us about Gunther, or any of Olaf's other disguises," Violet said, "unless we have some evidence. All we have now is an ersatz elevator, an empty cage, and three cooling fire tongs. That's not evidence of anything."
"I suppose you're right," Klaus said. "Well, why don't you two untie the rope, and I'll go straight to the library and start reading the catalog."
"Good plan," Violet said.
"Reauhop!" Sunny said, which meant "And good luck!" Klaus quietly opened the door of the penthouse and let himself in, and the Baudelaire sisters began pulling the rope back up the shaft. The end of the last extension cord clinked and clinked against the walls of the passageway as Sunny wound up the ersatz rope until it was a coil of extension cords, curtain pulls, and fancy neckties. Violet untied the last double knot to detach it from the doorknob, and turned to her sister.
"Let's store this under my bed," she said, "in case we need it later. It's on the way to the library anyway."
"Yallrel," Sunny added, which meant "And let's shut the sliding elevator doors, so the Squalors don't see that we've been sneaking around an elevator shaft."
"Good thinking," Violet said, and pressed the Up button. The doors slid shut again, and after taking a good look around to make sure they hadn't left anything behind, the two Baudelaires walked into the penthouse and followed their bread-crumb trail past a breakfast room, down a hallway, across a standing room, down a hallway, and finally to Violet's room, where they stored the ersatz rope under the bed. They were about to head right to the library when Sunny noticed a note that had been left on Violet's extra-fluffy pillow.
"'Dear Violet,'" read Violet, '"I couldn't find you or your siblings this morning to say good-bye. I had to leave early to buy yellow paper clips before heading over to the In Auction. Esmé will take you to Veblen Hall at ten-thirty sharp, so be sure to be ready, or she'll be very annoyed. See you then! Sincerely yours, Jerome Squalor.'"
"Yikes!" Sunny said, pointing to the nearest of the 612 clocks that the Squalors owned.
"Yikes is right," Violet said. "It's already ten o'clock. All that climbing up and down the elevator shaft took much longer than I thought."
"Wrech," Sunny added, which meant something like "Not to mention making those welding torches."
"We'd better go to the library right away," Violet said. "Maybe we can help Klaus speed up the research process in some way."
Sunny nodded in agreement, and the two sisters walked down the hallway to the Squalor library. Since Jerome had first shown it to them, Violet and Sunny had scarcely been inside, and it looked like nobody else had used it much, either. A good library will never be too neat, or too dusty, because somebody will always be in it, taking books off the shelves and staying up late reading them. Even libraries that were not to the Baudelaires' taste--Aunt Josephine's library, for instance, only contained books on grammar--were comfortable places to be in, because the owners of the library used them so much. But the Squalor library was as neat and as dusty as could be. All of the dull books on what was in and what was out sat on the shelves in tidy rows, with layers of dust on top of them as if they hadn't been disturbed since they'd first been placed there. It made the Baudelaire sisters a little sad to see all those books sitting in the library unread and unnoticed, like stray dogs or lost children that nobody wanted to take home. The only sign of life in the library was their brother, who was reading the catalog so closely that he didn't look up until his sisters were standing at his side.
"I hate to disturb you when you're researching," Violet said, "but there was a note from Jerome on my pillow. Esmé is going to take us to Veblen Hall at ten-thirty sharp, and it's just past ten o'clock now. Is there any way we can help you?"
"I don't see how," Klaus said, his eyes looking worried behind his glasses. "There's only one c
opy of the catalog, and it's pretty complicated. Each of the items for the auction is called a lot, and the catalog lists each lot with a description and a guess at what the highest bid may be. I've read up to Lot #49, which is a valuable postage stamp."
"Well, Gunther can't hide the Quagmires in a postage stamp," Violet said. "You can skip that lot."
"I've been skipping lots of lots," Klaus said, "but I'm still no closer to figuring out where the triplets will be. Would Gunther hide them in Lot #14--an enormous globe? Would he hide them under the lid of Lot #25--a rare and valuable piano? Would he hide them in Lot #48-- an enormous statue of a scarlet fish?" Klaus stopped and turned the page of a catalog. "Or would he hide them in Lot #50, which is--"
Klaus ended his sentence in a gasp, but his sisters knew immediately that he did not mean that the fiftieth item to be sold at the In Auction was a sharp intake of breath. He meant he'd discovered something remarkable in the catalog, and they leaned forward to read over his shoulder and see what it was.
"I can't believe it," Violet said. "I simply can't believe it."
"Toomsk," Sunny said, which meant something like "This must be where the Quagmires will be hidden."
"I agree with Sunny," Klaus said, "even though there's no description of the item. They don't even write what the letters stand for."
"We'll find out what they stand for," Violet said, "because we're going to find Esmé right this minute, and tell her what's going on. When she finds out, she'll finally believe us about Gunther, and we'll get the Quagmires out of Lot #50 before they leave the city. You were right, Klaus--the time was ripe for your researching skills."
"I guess I was right," Klaus said. "I can scarcely believe our luck."
The Baudelaires looked again at the page of the catalog, making sure that it was neither a hallucination nor a phantasm. And it wasn't. Right there, written in neat black type under the heading "Lot #50," were three letters, and three punctuation marks, that seemed to spell out the solution to the Baudelaires' problems. The children looked at one another and smiled. All three siblings could scarcely believe their luck. The Baudelaire orphans could scarcely believe that those three letters spelled out the hiding place of the Quagmires as clearly as it spelled out "V.F.D."