“What shall we do?” Violet whispered, as quietly as possible.
“Peek,” Sunny whispered back.
“If we peek,” Klaus whispered, “we’ll be guilty of contempt of court.”
“What are you waiting for, orphans?” asked the low, deep voice.
“Yes,” said the hoarse one. “Continue your story.”
But the Baudelaire orphans knew they could not continue their story, no matter how long they had been waiting to tell it. At the sound of those familiar voices, they had no choice but to remove their blindfolds. The children did not care if they were guilty of contempt of court, because they knew that if the other two judges were who they thought they were, then the High Court was indeed something they found worthless or dishonorable, and so without any further discussion they unwound the pieces of black cloth that covered their eyes, and the Baudelaire orphans peeked.
It was a shocking and upsetting peek that awaited the Baudelaires. Squinting in the sudden light, they peeked straight ahead, where the voices of Justice Strauss and the other judges had come from. The children found themselves peeking at the concierge desk, which was piled with all the evidence the crowd had submitted, including newspaper articles, employment records, environmental studies, grade books, blueprints of banks, administrative records, paperwork, financial records, rule books, constitutions, carnival posters, anatomical drawings, books, ruby-encrusted blank pages, a book alleging how wonderful Carmelita Spats was, commonplace books, photographs, hospital records, magazine articles, telegrams, couplets, maps, cookbooks, scraps of paper, screenplays, rhyming dictionaries, love letters, opera synopses, thesauri, marriage licenses, Talmudic commentaries, wills and testaments, auction catalogs, codebooks, mycological encyclopedias, menus, ferry schedules, theatrical programs, business cards, memos, novels, cookies, assorted pieces of evidence a certain person was unwilling to categorize, and someone’s mother, all of which Dewey Denouement had been hoping to catalog. Missing from the desk, however, was Justice Strauss, and as the Baudelaires peeked around the lobby, they saw that another person was missing, too, for there was no one on the wooden bench, only a few etched rings from people wicked enough to set down glasses without using coasters. Frantically, they peeked through the blindfolded crowd that was waiting impatiently for them to continue their story, and finally they spotted Count Olaf at the far side of the room. Justice Strauss was there, too, tucked in the crook of Olaf’s arm the way you might carry an umbrella if both your hands were full. Neither of Count Olaf’s filthy hands were full, but they were both otherwise engaged, a phrase which here means that one hand was covering Justice Strauss’s mouth with tape, so she could only say “hmm,” and the other was hurriedly pressing the button requesting an elevator. The harpoon gun, with its last hook gleaming wickedly, was leaning against the wall, within easy reach of the treacherous villain.
All this was a shocking and upsetting peek, of course, but even more shocking and upsetting was what the children saw when they returned their gaze to the concierge desk. For sitting at either end, with their elbows on the pile of evidence, were two villains at whom the children had hoped very much they would never get a peek again, villains of such wickedness that it is far too shocking and upsetting for me to write down their names. I can only describe them as the man with a beard, but no hair, and the woman with hair, but no beard, but to the Baudelaire orphans, these two villainous judges were another peek at the wicked way of the world.
CHAPTER
Twelve
The man with a beard but no hair stood up from the concierge desk, his knees bumping against the little bells that had sent the Baudelaire orphans on their errands. The woman with hair but no beard pointed a finger at the three children that looked as crooked as she was. The finger had been broken long ago, in a dispute over a game of backgammon, which is another story that would take at least thirteen books to describe, but in the Baudelaires’ story the finger only made this brief appearance as it pointed at the children in alarm.
“The Baudelaires have taken off their blindfolds!” cried the villainous woman in her low, deep voice.
“Yes!” agreed the villainous man, in his hoarse voice. “They’re guilty of contempt of court!”
“We certainly are,” Violet agreed fiercely. “This court is worthless and dishonorable!”
“Two of the judges are notorious villains,” Klaus announced over the gasps of the crowd.
“Peek!” Sunny cried.
“Nobody peek!” ordered the man with a beard but no hair. “Anyone who peeks will be turned over to the authorities!”
“Take off your blindfolds!” Violet begged the crowd. “Count Olaf is kidnapping Justice Strauss this very moment!”
“Hmm!” cried Justice Strauss in agreement, from behind the tape.
“Justice Strauss is enjoying a piece of saltwater taffy!” the woman with hair but no beard said quickly. “That’s why she’s talking in hmms!”
“She’s not enjoying anything!” Klaus cried. “If there are any volunteers in the crowd, take off your blindfolds and help us!”
“The children are trying to trick you!” said the man with a beard but no hair. “Keep your blindfolds on!”
“Yes!” cried the woman with hair but no beard. “They’re trying to get all noble people arrested by the authorities!”
“Real McCoy!” Sunny yelled.
“I think the children might be telling the truth,” Jerome Squalor said hesitantly.
“Those brats are liars!” Esmé snapped. “They’re worse than my ex-boyfriend!”
“I believe them!” Charles said, scratching at his blindfold. “They’ve experienced villainy before!”
“I don’t!” Sir announced. The children could not tell if he was wearing a blindfold underneath the cloud of smoke that still hung over his head. “They’re nothing but trouble!”
“They’re telling the truth!” cried Frank, probably, unless it was Ernest.
“They’re lying!” cried Ernest, most likely, although I suppose it could have been Frank.
“They’re good students!” said Mr. Remora.
“They’re lousy administrative assistants!” said Vice Principal Nero.
“They’re bank robbers!” said Mrs. Bass, whose blindfold was covering her small, narrow mask.
“Bank robbers?” Mr. Poe asked. “Egad! Who said that?”
“They’re guilty!” cried the man with a beard but no hair, although the High Court wasn’t supposed to reach a verdict until all the evidence had been examined.
“They’re innocent!” cried Hal.
“They’re freaks!” screamed Hugo.
“They’re twisted!” shrieked Colette.
“They’re right-handed!” yelled Kevin.
“They’re headlines!” screeched Geraldine Julienne.
“They’re escaping!” said the woman with hair but no beard, and this, at least, was a true statement. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny realized that the crowd was going to do nothing that would stop Count Olaf from dragging Justice Strauss away from the trial, and that the people in the lobby would fail them, as so many noble people had failed them before. As the volunteers and villains argued around them, the children made their way quickly and stealthily away from the bench and toward Justice Strauss and Count Olaf, who was picking up the harpoon gun. If you’ve ever wanted one more cookie than people said you could have, then you know how difficult it is to move quickly and stealthily at the same time, but if you’ve had as much experience as the Baudelaires in dodging the activities of people who were shouting at you, then you know that with enough practice you can move quickly and stealthily just about anywhere, including across an enormous, domed lobby while a crowd calls for your capture.
“We must capture them!” called a voice in the crowd.
“It will take a village to capture the Baudelaires!” shrieked Mrs. Morrow. “We can’t see them through our blindfolds!”
“We don’t want to be guilty of contempt of c
ourt!” yelled Mr. Lesko. “Let’s feel our way toward the hotel entrance so they can’t escape!”
“The authorities are guarding the entrance!” the man with a beard but no hair reminded the crowd. “The Baudelaires are running toward the elevators! Capture them!”
“But don’t capture anyone else who happens to be standing near the elevators!” added the woman with hair but no beard, looking hurriedly at Olaf. The sliding doors of an elevator began to open, and the Baudelaires moved as quickly and stealthily as they could through the crowd who were reaching out blindly in all directions.
“Search the entire hotel,” said the villianous man, “and bring us anyone who you find suspicious!”
“We’ll tell you if they’re villains or not,” said the villainous woman. “After all, you can’t make such judgements yourselves!”
“Wrong!”
The enormous clock of the Hotel Denouement, the stuff of legend, announced one o’clock, thundering through the room of the blindfolded leading the blindfolded, just as the three siblings reached the elevators. Count Olaf had already dragged Justice Strauss inside and was hurriedly pressing the button that closes the elevator doors, but Sunny stuck out one of her feet and held them open, which is something only very brave people attempt. Olaf leaned forward to whisper threateningly at the Baudelaires.
“Let me go,” he whispered threateningly, “or I’ll announce to everyone where you are.”
Olaf, however, was not the only person who could whisper threateningly. “Let us in,” Violet whispered threateningly, “or we’ll announce to everyone where you are.”
“Hmm!” Justice Strauss said.
Count Olaf glared at the children, and the children glared back, until at last the villain stepped aside and let the Baudelaires join him and his prisoner in the elevator. “Going down?” he asked, and the children blinked. They had been so intent on escaping the crowd and reaching the judge that they hadn’t considered exactly where they might go afterward.
“We’re going wherever you go,” Klaus said.
“I have a few errands to run,” Olaf said. “Ha! First I’m going down to the basement, to retrieve the sugar bowl. Ha! Then I’m going up to the roof, to retrieve the Medusoid Mycelium. Ha! Then I’m going down to the lobby, to expose the fungus to everyone in the lobby. Ha! And then, finally, I’m going up to the roof, to escape without being seen by the authorities.”
“You’ll fail,” Sunny said, and Olaf glared down at the youngest Baudelaire.
“Your mother told me the same thing,” he said. “Ha! But one day, when I was seven years old—”
The elevator’s doors slid open as it arrived at the basement, and the villain interrupted himself and quickly dragged Justice Strauss out into the hallway. “Follow me!” he called back to the Baudelaires. The children, of course, did not want to follow this horrid man any more than they wanted to put cream cheese in their hair, but they looked at one another and could not think of what else they could do.
“You can’t retrieve the sugar bowl,” Violet said. “You’ll never open the Vernacularly Fastened Door.”
“Can’t I?” Olaf asked, stopping at Room 025. The lock was still stretched securely across the door, as it had been when Sunny left it. “This hotel is like an enormous library,” the villain said, “but you can find any item in a library if you have one thing.”
“Catalog?” Sunny asked.
“No,” Count Olaf replied, and pointed the harpoon gun at the judge. “A hostage.” With that, he turned to Justice Strauss and ripped the tape off her mouth very slowly, so it would sting as much as possible. “You’re going to help me open this lock,” he informed her, with a wicked smile.
“I will do nothing of the sort!” Justice Strauss replied. “The Baudelaires will help me drag you back up to the lobby, where justice can be served!”
“Justice isn’t being served in the lobby,” Olaf growled, “or anywhere else in the world!”
“Don’t be so sure of that!” Justice Strauss said, and reached behind her back. The Baudelaires looked hopefully at what she was holding, but their hopes fell when they saw what it was. “Odious Lusting After Finance,” she read out loud, holding up Jerome Squalor’s comprehensive history of injustice. “There’s enough evidence in here to put you in jail for the rest of your life!”
“Justice Strauss,” Violet said, “your fellow judges on the High Court are associates of Count Olaf. Those villains will never put Olaf in jail.”
“It can’t be!” Justice Strauss gasped. “I’ve known them for years! I’ve told them everything that was happening to you children, and they were always very interested!”
“Of course they were interested, you fool,” Count Olaf said. “They passed along all that information to me, so I could catch up with the orphans! You’ve been helping me all along, without even knowing it! Ha!”
Justice Strauss leaned against an ornamental vase, and her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve failed you again, Baudelaires,” she said. “No matter how I’ve tried to help you, I’ve only put you in more danger. I thought justice would be served if you told the High Court your story, but—”
“No one’s interested in their story,” Count Olaf said scornfully. “Even if you wrote down every last detail, no one would read such a dreadful thing. I’ve triumphed over the orphans and over any other person foolish or noble enough to stand in my way. It’s the unraveling of my story, or, as the French say, the noblesse oblige.”
“Denouement,” Sunny corrected, but Olaf acted as though he had not heard, and turned his attention to the lock on the door.
“That idiot sub-sub said the first phrase is a description of a medical condition that all three Baudelaire children share,” he muttered, and turned to Justice Strauss. “Tell me what it is, or prepare to eat harpoon.”
“Never,” Justice Strauss said. “I may have failed these children, but I won’t fail V.F.D. You’ll never get the sugar bowl, no matter what terrible threats you make.”
“I’ll tell you what the first phrase is,” Klaus said calmly, and his siblings looked at him in astonishment. Justice Strauss looked at him in amazement. Even Count Olaf seemed a little puzzled.
“You will?” he asked.
“Certainly,” Klaus said. “It’s just like you said, Count Olaf. Every noble person has failed us. Why should we protect the sugar bowl?”
“Klaus!” Violet and Sunny cried, in simultaneous astonishment.
“No!” Justice Strauss cried, in solitary amazement.
Count Olaf looked a little puzzled again, but then shrugged his dusty shoulders. “O.K.,” he said, “tell me what medical condition you and your orphan siblings share.”
“We’re allergic to peppermints,” Klaus said, and quickly typed A-L-L-E-R-G-I-C-T-O-P-EP-P-E-R-M-I-N-T-S into the lock. Immediately, there was a muted clicking sound from the typewriter keyboard.
“It’s warming up,” Count Olaf said, in a delighted wheeze. “Get out of the way, four-eyes! The second phrase is the weapon that left me an orphan, and I can type that one in myself. P-O-Y-Z—”
“Wait!” Klaus said, before Olaf could touch the keyboard. “That can’t be right. Those letters don’t spell anything.”
“Spelling doesn’t count,” said the count.
“Yes, it does,” Klaus said. “Tell me what the weapon is that left you an orphan, and I’ll type it in for you.”
Count Olaf gave Klaus a slow smile that made the Baudelaires shudder. “Certainly I’ll tell you,” he said. “It was poison darts.”
Klaus looked at his sisters, and then in grim silence typed P-O-I-S-O-N-D-A-R-T-S into the lock, which began to buzz quietly. Count Olaf’s eyes shone brightly as he stared at the wires of the lock, which began to shake as they stretched around the hinges of the laundry room door.
“It’s working,” he said, and ran his tongue over his filthy teeth. “The sugar bowl is so close I can taste it!”
Klaus took his commonplace book from his pocket,
and read his notes intently for a moment. Then he turned to Justice Strauss. “Give me that book, please,” he said, pointing to Jerome Squalor’s book. “The third phrase is the famous unfathomable question in the best-known novel by Richard Wright. Richard Wright was an American novelist of the realist school whose writings illuminated the disparities in race relations. It is likely his work is quoted in a comprehensive history of injustice.”
“You can’t read that entire book!” Count Olaf said. “The crowd will find us before you finish the first chapter!”
“I’ll look in the index,” Klaus said, “just like I did at Aunt Josephine’s, when we decoded her note and found her hiding place.”
“I always wondered how you did that,” Olaf said, sounding almost as if he admired the middle Baudelaire’s research skills. Klaus paged to the back of the book, where the index can usually be found. An index, as I’m sure you know, is a list of everything a book contains, and where each item can be found.
“Wright, Richard,” Klaus read aloud. “Unfathomable question in Native Son, page 581.”
“That’s the five hundred and eighty-first page,” Count Olaf explained for no one’s benefit, a phrase which here means “even though that was clear to everyone in the hallway.”
Klaus flipped hurriedly to the proper page and scanned it quickly, his eyes blinking behind his glasses. “I found it,” he said quietly. “It’s quite an interesting question, actually.”
“No one cares about interesting questions!” Olaf said. “Type it in this instant!”
Klaus smiled, and began typing furiously into the typewriter keyboard. His sisters stepped forward, and each of them put a hand on their brother’s shoulder.
“Why do this?” Sunny asked.
“Sunny’s right,” Violet said. “Why are you helping Olaf get into the laundry room?”
The middle Baudelaire typed the last word into the keyboard, which was “T-O-P-P-L-I-NG,” and then looked at his sisters. “Because the sugar bowl isn’t there,” he said, and pushed open the door.