“Well,” she began, “my name is Violet Baudelaire, and I’m here with my brother, Klaus, and my sister, Sunny. Our names might sound a bit familiar to you, because The Daily Punctilio has recently published an article saying that we’re Veronica, Klyde, and Susie Baudelaire, and that we’re murderers who killed Count Omar. But Count Omar is really Count Olaf, and he’s not really dead. He faked his death by killing another person with the same tattoo, and framed us for the murder. Recently he destroyed a hospital while trying to capture us, but we managed to hide in the trunk of his car as he drove off with his comrades. Now we’ve gotten out of the trunk, and we’re trying to reach Mr. Poe so he can help us get ahold of the Snicket file, which we think might explain what the initials V.F.D. stand for, and if one of our parents survived the fire after all. I know it’s a very complicated story, and it may seem unbelievable to you, but we’re all by ourselves in the hinterlands and we don’t know what else to do.”
The story was so terrible that Violet had cried a little while telling it, and she brushed a tear from her eye as she waited for a reply from the operator. But no voice came out of the phone. The three Baudelaires listened carefully, but all they could hear was the empty and distant sound of a telephone line.
“Hello?” Violet said finally.
The telephone said nothing.
“Hello?” Violet said again. “Hello? Hello?”
The telephone did not answer.
“Hello?” Violet said, as loud as she dared.
“I think we’d better hang up,” Klaus said gently.
“But why isn’t anyone answering?” Violet cried.
“I don’t know,” Klaus said, “but I don’t think the operator will help us.”
Violet hung up the phone and opened the door of the booth. Now that the sun was down the air was getting colder, and she shivered in the evening breeze. “Who will help us?” she asked. “Who will take care of us?”
“We’ll have to take care of ourselves,” Klaus said.
“Ephrai,” Sunny said, which meant “But we’re in real trouble now.”
“We sure are,” Violet agreed. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, with no place to hide, and the whole world thinks we’re criminals. How do criminals take care of themselves out in the hinterlands?”
The Baudelaires heard a burst of laughter, as if in reply. The laughter was quite faint, but in the still of the evening it made the children jump. Sunny pointed, and the children could see a light in one of the windows in Madame Lulu’s caravan. Several shadows moved across the window, and the children could tell that Count Olaf and his troupe were inside, chatting and laughing while the Baudelaire orphans shivered outside in the gloom.
“Let’s go see,” Klaus said. “Let’s go find out how criminals take care of themselves.”
CHAPTER
Two
Eavesdropping—a word which here means “listening in on interesting conversations you are not invited to join”—is a valuable thing to do, and it is often an enjoyable thing to do, but it is not a polite thing to do, and like most impolite things, you are bound to get into trouble if you get caught doing it. The Baudelaire orphans, of course, had plenty of experience not getting caught, so the three children knew how to walk as quietly as possible across the grounds of Caligari Carnival, and how to crouch as invisibly as possible outside the window of Madame Lulu’s caravan. If you had been there that eerie blue evening—and nothing in my research indicates that you were—you wouldn’t have heard even the slightest rustle from the Baudelaires as they eavesdropped on their enemies.
Count Olaf and his troupe, however, were making plenty of noise. “Madame Lulu!” Count Olaf was roaring as the children pressed up against the side of the caravan so that they would be hidden in the shadows. “Madame Lulu, pour us some wine! Arson and escaping from the authorities always makes me very thirsty!”
“I’d prefer buttermilk, served in a paper carton,” Esmé said. “That’s the new in beverage.”
“Five glasses of wine and a carton of buttermilk coming up, please,” answered a woman in an accent the children recognized. Not so long ago, when Esmé Squalor had been the Baudelaires’ caretaker, Olaf had disguised himself as a person who did not speak English well, and as part of his disguise, he had spoken in an accent very similar to the one they were hearing now. The Baudelaires tried to peer through the window and catch a glimpse of the fortune-teller, but Madame Lulu had shut her curtains tightly. “I’m thrilled, please, to see you, my Olaf. Welcome to the caravan of mine. How is life for you?”
“We’ve been swamped at work,” the hook-handed man said, using a phrase which here means “chasing after innocent children for quite some time.” “Those three orphans have been very difficult to capture.”
“Do not worry of the children, please,” Madame Lulu replied. “My crystal ball tells me that my Olaf will prevail.”
“If that means ‘murder innocent children,’” one of the white-faced women said, “then that’s the best news we’ve heard all day.”
“‘Prevail’ means ‘win,’” Olaf said, “but in my case that’s the same thing as killing those Baudelaires. Exactly when does the crystal ball say I will prevail, Lulu?”
“Very soon, please,” Madame Lulu replied. “What gifts have you brought me from your traveling, my Olaf?”
“Well, let’s see,” Olaf replied. “There’s a lovely pearl necklace I stole from one of the nurses at Heimlich Hospital.”
“You promised me I could have that,” Esmé said. “Give her one of those crow hats you snatched from the Village of Fowl Devotees.”
“I tell you, Lulu,” Olaf said, “your fortune-telling abilities are amazing. I never would have guessed that the Baudelaires were hiding out in that stupid town, but your crystal ball knew right away.”
“Magic is magic, please,” Lulu replied. “More wine, my Olaf?”
“Thank you,” Olaf said. “Now, Lulu, we need your fortune-telling abilities once more.”
“The Baudelaire brats slipped away from us again,” the bald man said, “and the boss was hoping you’d be able to tell us where they went.”
“Also,” the hook-handed man said, “we need to know where the Snicket file is.”
“And we need to know if one of the Baudelaire parents survived the fire,” Esmé said. “The orphans seem to think so, but your crystal ball could tell us for sure.”
“And I’d like some more wine,” one of the white-faced women said.
“So many demands you make,” Madame Lulu said in her strange accent. “Madame Lulu remembers, please, when you would visit only for the pleasure of my company, my Olaf.”
“There isn’t time for that tonight,” Olaf replied quickly. “Can’t you consult your crystal ball right now?”
“You know rules of crystal ball, my Olaf,” Lulu replied. “At night the crystal ball must be sleeping in the fortune-telling tent, and at sunrise you may ask one question.”
“Then I’ll ask my first question tomorrow morning,” Olaf said, “and we’ll stay until all my questions are answered.”
“Oh, my Olaf,” Madame Lulu said. “Please, times are very hard for Caligari Carnival. Is not good business idea to have carnival in hinterlands, so there are not many people to see Madame Lulu or crystal ball. Caligari Carnival gift caravan has lousy souvenirs. And Madame Lulu has not enough freaks, please, in the House of Freaks. You visit, my Olaf, with troupe, and stay many days, drink my wine and eat all of my snackings.”
“This roast chicken is very delicious,” the hook-handed man said.
“Madame Lulu has no money, please,” Lulu continued. “Is hard, my Olaf, to do fortune-telling for you when Madame Lulu is so poor. The caravan of mine has leaky roof, and Madame Lulu needs money, please, to do repairs.”
“I’ve told you before,” Olaf said, “once we get the Baudelaire fortune, the carnival will have plenty of money.”
“You said that about Quagmire fortune, my Olaf,” Madame Lulu said,
“and about Snicket fortune. But never a penny does Madame Lulu see. We must think, please, of something to make Caligari Carnival more popular. Madame Lulu was hoping that troupe of my Olaf could put on a big show like The Marvelous Marriage. Many people would come to see.”
“The boss can’t get up on stage,” the bald man said. “Planning schemes is a full-time job.”
“Besides,” Esmé said, “I’ve retired from show business. All I want to be now is Count Olaf’s girlfriend.”
There was a silence, and the only thing the Baudelaires could hear from Lulu’s caravan was the crunch of someone chewing on chicken bones. Then there was a long sigh, and Lulu spoke very quietly. “You did not tell me, my Olaf, that Esmé was the girlfriend of you. Perhaps Madame Lulu will not let you and troupe stay at the carnival of mine.”
“Now, now, Lulu,” Count Olaf said, and the children shivered as they eavesdropped. Olaf was talking in a tone of voice the Baudelaires had heard many times, when he was trying to fool someone into thinking he was a kind and decent person. Even with the curtains closed, the Baudelaires could tell that he was giving Madame Lulu a toothy grin, and that his eyes were shining brightly beneath his one eyebrow, as if he were about to tell a joke. “Did I ever tell you how I began my career as an actor?”
“It’s a fascinating story,” the hook-handed man said.
“It certainly is,” Olaf agreed. “Give me some more wine, and I’ll tell you. Now then, as a child, I was always the most handsome fellow at school, and one day a young director…”
The Baudelaires had heard enough. The three children had spent enough time with the villain to know that once he began talking about himself, he continued until the cows came home, a phrase which here means “until there was no more wine,” and they tiptoed away from Madame Lulu’s caravan and back toward Count Olaf’s car so they could talk without being overheard. In the dark of night, the long, black automobile looked like an enormous hole, and the children felt as if they were about to fall into it as they tried to decide what to do.
“I guess we should leave,” Klaus said uncertainly. “It’s definitely not safe around here, but I don’t know where we can go in the hinterlands. There’s nothing for miles and miles but wilderness, and we could die of thirst, or be attacked by wild animals.”
Violet looked around quickly, as if something were about to attack them that very moment, but the only wild animal in view was the painted lion on the carnival sign. “Even if we found someone else out there,” she said, “they’d probably think we were murderers and call the police. Also, Madame Lulu promised to answer all of Olaf’s questions tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t think Madame Lulu’s crystal ball really works, do you?” Klaus asked. “I’ve never read any evidence that fortune-telling is real.”
“But Madame Lulu keeps telling Count Olaf where we are,” Violet pointed out. “She must be getting her information from someplace. If she can really find out the location of the Snicket file, or learn if one of our parents is alive…”
Her voice trailed off, but she did not need to finish her sentence. All three Baudelaires knew that finding out if someone survived the fire was worth the risk of staying nearby.
“Sandover,” Sunny said, which meant “So we’re staying.”
“We should at least stay the night,” Klaus agreed. “But where can we hide? If we don’t stay out of sight, someone is likely to recognize us.”
“Karneez?” Sunny asked.
“The people in those caravans work for Madame Lulu,” Klaus said. “Who knows if they’d help us or not?”
“I have an idea,” Violet said, and walked over to the back of Count Olaf’s car. With a creeeak, she opened the trunk again and leaned down inside.
“Nuts!” Sunny said, which meant “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Violet.”
“Sunny’s right,” Klaus said. “Olaf and his henchmen might come back any minute to unpack the trunk. We can’t hide in there.”
“We’re not going to hide in there,” Violet said. “We’re not going to hide at all. After all, Olaf and his troupe never hide, and they manage not to be recognized. We’re going to disguise ourselves.”
“Gabrowha?” Sunny asked.
“Why wouldn’t it work?” Violet replied. “Olaf wears these disguises and he manages to fool everyone. If we fool Madame Lulu into thinking we’re somebody else, we can stay around and find the answers to our questions.”
“It seems risky,” Klaus said, “but I suppose it’s just as risky as trying to hide someplace. Who should we pretend to be?”
“Let’s look through the disguises,” Violet said, “and see if we get any ideas.”
“We’ll have to feel through them,” Klaus said. “It’s too dark to look through anything.”
The Baudelaires stood in front of the open trunk and reached inside to begin their search. As I’m sure you know, whenever you are examining someone else’s belongings, you are bound to learn many interesting things about the person of which you were not previously aware. You might examine some letters your sister received recently, for instance, and learn that she was planning on running away with an archduke. You might examine the suitcases of another passenger on a train you are taking, and learn that he had been secretly photographing you for the past six months. I recently looked in the refrigerator of one of my enemies and learned she was a vegetarian, or at least pretending to be one, or had a vegetarian visiting her for a few days. And as the Baudelaire orphans examined some of the objects in Olaf’s trunk, they learned a great deal of unpleasant things. Violet found part of a brass lamp she remembered from living with Uncle Monty, and learned that Olaf had stolen from her poor guardian, in addition to murdering him. Klaus found a large shopping bag from the In Boutique, and learned that Esmé Squalor was just as obsessed with fashionable clothing as she ever was. And Sunny found a pair of pantyhose covered in sawdust, and learned that Olaf had not washed his receptionist disguise since he had used it last. But the most dismaying thing the children learned from searching the trunk of Olaf’s car was just how many disguises he had at his disposal. They found the hat Olaf used to disguise himself as a ship captain, and the razor he had probably used to shave his head in order to resemble a lab assistant. They found the expensive running shoes he had worn to disguise himself as a gym teacher, and the plastic ones he had used when he was pretending to be a detective. But the siblings also found plenty of costumes they had never seen before, and it seemed as though Olaf could keep on disguising himself forever, following the Baudelaires to location after location, always appearing with a new identity and never getting caught.
“We could disguise ourselves as almost anybody,” Violet said. “Look, here’s a wig that makes me look like a clown, and here’s one that makes me look like a judge.”
“I know,” Klaus said, holding up a large box with several drawers. “This appears to be a makeup kit, complete with fake mustaches, fake eyebrows, and even a pair of glass eyes.”
“Twicho!” Sunny said, holding up a long white veil.
“No, thank you,” Violet said. “I already had to wear that veil once, when Olaf nearly married me. I’d rather not wear it again. Besides, what would a bride be doing wandering around the hinterlands?”
“Look at this long robe,” Klaus said. “It looks like something a rabbi would wear, but I don’t know if Madame Lulu would believe that a rabbi would visit her in the middle of the night.”
“Ginawn!” Sunny said, using her teeth to wrap a pair of sweatpants around her. The youngest Baudelaire meant something like, “All these clothes are too big for me,” and she was right.
“That’s even bigger than that pinstripe suit Esmé bought you,” Klaus said, helping his sister get disentangled. “No one would believe that a pair of sweatpants was walking around a carnival by itself.”
“All these clothes are too big,” Violet said. “Look at this beige coat. If I tried to disguise myself in it, I’d only look freakish
.”
“Freakish!” Klaus said. “That’s it!”
“Whazit?” Sunny asked.
“Madame Lulu said that she didn’t have enough freaks in the House of Freaks. If we find disguises that make us look freakish, and tell Lulu that we’re looking for work, she might hire us as part of the carnival.”
“But what exactly do freaks do?” Violet asked.
“I read a book once about a man named John Merrick,” Klaus said. “He had horrible birth defects that made him look terribly deformed. A carnival put him on display as part of a House of Freaks, and people paid money to go into a tent and look at him.”
“Why would people want to look at someone with birth defects?” Violet asked. “It sounds cruel.”
“It was cruel,” Klaus said. “The crowd often threw things at Mr. Merrick, and called him names. I’m afraid the House of Freaks isn’t a very pleasant form of entertainment.”
“You’d think someone would put a stop to it,” Violet said, “but you’d think somebody would put a stop to Count Olaf, too, and nobody does.”
“Radev,” Sunny said with a nervous look around them. By “Radev,” she meant “Somebody’s going to put a stop to us if we don’t disguise ourselves soon,” and her siblings nodded solemnly in agreement.
“Here’s some kind of fancy shirt,” Klaus said. “It’s covered in ruffles and bows. And here’s an enormous pair of pants with fur on the cuffs.”
“Could both of us wear them at once?” Violet asked.
“Both of us?” Klaus said. “I suppose so, if we kept on our clothes underneath, so Olaf’s would fit. We could each stand on one leg, and tuck our other legs inside. We’d have to lean against one another as we walked, but I think it might work.”
“And we could do the same thing with the shirt,” Violet said. “We could each put one arm through a sleeve and keep the other tucked inside.”
A Series of Unfortunate Events Collection: Books 1-13 with Bonus Material Page 87