“But Mr. Poe, if Stephano rides with me in my car, and you drive Dr. Montgomery’s jeep,” Dr. Lucafont was saying, “then how will you know the way?”
“I see your point,” Mr. Poe said. “But I don’t think Sunny will be willing to sit on Dr. Montgomery’s lap, if he’s dead. We’ll have to work out another way.”
“I’ve got it,” Stephano said. “I will drive the children in Dr. Lucafont’s car, and Dr. Lucafont can go with you and Dr. Montgomery in Dr. Montgomery’s jeep.”
“I’m afraid that won’t work,” Dr. Lucafont said gravely. “The city laws won’t allow anybody else to drive my car.”
“And we haven’t even discussed the issue of the children’s luggage,” Mr. Poe said.
Violet stood up, having heard enough to know she had enough time to go up to Stephano’s room. Quietly, quietly, Violet walked up the staircase and down the hallway toward Stephano’s door, where he had sat holding the knife that fearsome night. When she reached his door, Violet stopped. It was amazing, she thought, how everything having to do with Count Olaf was frightening. He was such a terrible person that merely the sight of his bedroom door could get her heart pounding. Violet found herself half hoping that Stephano would bound up the stairs and stop her, just so she wouldn’t have to open this door and go into the room where he slept. But then Violet thought of her own safety, and the safety of her two siblings. If one’s safety is threatened, one often finds courage one didn’t know one had, and the eldest Baudelaire found she could be brave enough to open the door. Her shoulder still aching from the car collision, Violet turned the brass handle of the door and walked inside.
The room, as Violet suspected, was a dirty mess. The bed was unmade and had cracker crumbs and bits of hair all over it. Discarded newspapers and mail-order catalogs lay on the floor in untidy piles. On top of the dresser was a small assortment of half-empty wine bottles. The closet door was open, revealing a bunch of rusty wire coathangers that shivered in the drafty room. The curtains over the windows were all bunched up and encrusted with something flaky, and as Violet drew closer she realized with faint horror that Stephano had blown his nose on them.
But although it was disgusting, hardened phlegm was not the sort of evidence Violet was hoping for. The eldest Baudelaire orphan stood in the center of the room and surveyed the sticky disorder of the bedroom. Everything was horrendous, nothing was helpful. Violet rubbed her sore shoulder and remembered when she and her siblings were living with Count Olaf and found themselves locked in his tower room. Although it was frightening to be trapped in his inner sanctum—a phrase which here means “filthy room in which evil plans are devised”—it turned out to be quite useful, because they were able to read up on nuptial law and work their way out of their predicament. But here, in Stephano’s inner sanctum at Uncle Monty’s house, all Violet could find were signs of uncleanliness. Somewhere Stephano must have left a trail of evidence that Violet could find and use to convince Mr. Poe, but where was it? Disheartened—and afraid she had spent too much time in Stephano’s bedroom—Violet went quietly back downstairs.
“No, no, no,” Mr. Poe was saying, when she stopped to listen at the kitchen door again. “Dr. Montgomery can’t drive. He’s dead. There must be a way to do this.”
“I’ve told you over and over,” Stephano said, and Violet could tell that he was growing angry. “The easiest way is for me to take the three children into town, while you follow with Dr. Lucafont and the corpse. What could be simpler?”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Mr. Poe said with a sigh, and Violet hurried into the Reptile Room.
“Klaus, Klaus,” she cried. “Tell me you’ve found something! I went to Stephano’s room but there’s nothing there to help us, and I think Stephano’s going to get us alone in his car.”
Klaus smiled for an answer and began to read out loud from the book he was holding. “‘The Mamba du Mal,’” he read, “‘is one of the deadliest snakes in the hemisphere, noted for its strangulatory grip, used in conjunction with its deadly venom, giving all of its victims a tenebrous hue, which is ghastly to behold.’”
“Strangulatory? Conjunction? Tenebrous? Hue?” Violet repeated. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I didn’t either,” Klaus admitted, “until I looked up some of the words. ‘Strangulatory’ means ‘having to do with strangling.’ ‘In conjunction’ means ‘together.’ ‘Tenebrous’ means ‘dark.’ And ‘hue’ means ‘color.’ So the Mamba du Mal is noted for strangling people while it bites them, leaving their corpses dark with bruises.”
“Stop! Stop!” Violet cried, covering her ears. “I don’t want to hear any more about what happened to Uncle Monty!”
“You don’t understand,” Klaus said gently. “That isn’t what happened to Uncle Monty.”
“But Dr. Lucafont said there was the venom of the Mamba du Mal in Monty’s veins,” she said.
“I’m sure there was,” Klaus said, “but the snake didn’t put it there. If it had, Uncle Monty’s body would have been dark with bruises. But you and I remember that it was as pale as can be.”
Violet started to speak, and then stopped, remembering the pale, pale face of Uncle Monty when they discovered him. “That’s true,” she said. “But then how was he poisoned?”
“Remember how Uncle Monty said he kept the venoms of all his poisonous snakes in test tubes, to study them?” Klaus said. “I think Stephano took the venom and injected it into Uncle Monty.”
“Really?” Violet shuddered. “That’s awful.”
“Okipi!” Sunny shrieked, apparently in agreement.
“When we tell Mr. Poe about this,” Klaus said confidently, “Stephano will be arrested for Uncle Monty’s murder and sent to jail. No longer will he try to whisk us away to Peru, or threaten us with knives, or make us carry his suitcase, or anything like that.”
Violet looked at her brother, her eyes wide with excitement. “Suitcase!” she said. “His suitcase!”
“What are you talking about?” Klaus said quizzically, and Violet was about to explain when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Violet called, signaling to Sunny not to bite Mr. Poe as he walked in.
“I hope you are feeling a bit calmer,” Mr. Poe said, looking at each of the children in turn, “and no longer entertaining the thought that Stephano is Count Olaf.” When Mr. Poe used the word “entertaining” here he meant “thinking,” rather than “singing or dancing or putting on skits.”
“Even if he’s not Count Olaf,” Klaus said carefully, “we think he may be responsible for Uncle Monty’s death.”
“Nonsense!” Mr. Poe exclaimed, as Violet shook her head at her brother. “Uncle Monty’s death was a terrible accident, and nothing more.”
Klaus held up the book he was reading. “But while you were in the kitchen, we were reading about snakes, and—”
“Reading about snakes?” Mr. Poe said. “I should think you’d want to read about anything but snakes, after what happened to Dr. Montgomery.”
“But I found out something,” Klaus said, “that—”
“It doesn’t matter what you found out about snakes,” Mr. Poe said, taking out a handkerchief. The Baudelaires waited while he coughed into it before returning it to his pocket. “It doesn’t matter,” he said again, “what you found out about snakes. Stephano doesn’t know anything about snakes. He told us that himself.”
“But—” Klaus said, but he stopped when he saw Violet. She shook her head at him again, just slightly. It was a signal, telling him not to say anything more to Mr. Poe. He looked at his sister, and then at Mr. Poe, and shut his mouth.
Mr. Poe coughed slightly into his handkerchief and looked at his wristwatch. “Now that we have settled that matter, there is the issue of riding in the car. I know that the three of you were eager to see the inside of a doctor’s automobile, but we’ve discussed it over and over and there’s simply no way it can work. You three are going to ride with Stephano into town
, while I will ride with Dr. Lucafont and your Uncle Monty. Stephano and Dr. Lucafont are unloading all the bags now and we will leave in a few minutes. If you will excuse me, I have to call the Herpetological Society and tell them the bad news.” Mr. Poe coughed once more into his handkerchief and left the room.
“Why didn’t you want me to tell Mr. Poe what I read?” Klaus asked Violet, when he was sure Mr. Poe was out of earshot, a word which here means “close enough to hear him.” Violet didn’t answer. She was looking through the glass wall of the Reptile Room, watching Dr. Lucafont and Stephano walk past the snake-shaped hedges to Uncle Monty’s jeep. Stephano opened the jeep door, and Dr. Lucafont began to carry suitcases out of the backseat in his strangely stiff hands. “Violet, why didn’t you want me to tell Mr. Poe what I read?”
“When the adults come to fetch us,” Violet said, ignoring Klaus’s question, “keep them in the Reptile Room until I get back.”
“But how will I do that?” Klaus asked.
“Create a distraction,” Violet answered impatiently, still looking out the window at the little pile of suitcases Dr. Lucafont was making.
“What distraction?” Klaus asked anxiously. “How?”
“For goodness’ sake, Klaus,” his older sister replied. “You have read hundreds of books. Surely you must have read something about creating a distraction.”
Klaus thought for a second. “In order to win the Trojan War,” he said, “the ancient Greeks hid soldiers inside an enormous wooden horse. That was sort of a distraction. But I don’t have time to build a wooden horse.”
“Then you’ll have to think of something else,” Violet said, and began to walk toward the door, still gazing out the window. Klaus and Sunny looked first at their sister, and then out the window of the Reptile Room in the direction she was looking. It is remarkable that different people will have different thoughts when they look at the same thing. For when the two younger Baudelaires looked at the pile of suitcases, all they thought was that unless they did something quickly, they would end up alone in Uncle Monty’s jeep with Stephano. But from the way Violet was staring as she walked out of the Reptile Room, she was obviously thinking something else. Klaus and Sunny could not imagine what it was, but somehow their sister had reached a different conclusion as she looked at her own brown suitcase, or perhaps the beige one that held Klaus’s things, or the tiny gray one that was Sunny’s, or maybe the large black one, with the shiny silver padlock, that belonged to Stephano.
CHAPTER
Ten
When you were very small, perhaps someone read to you the insipid story—the word “insipid” here means “not worth reading to someone”—of the Boy Who Cried Wolf. A very dull boy, you may remember, cried “Wolf!” when there was no wolf, and the gullible villagers ran to rescue him only to find the whole thing was a joke. Then he cried “Wolf!” when it wasn’t a joke, and the villagers didn’t come running, and the boy was eaten and the story, thank goodness, was over.
The story’s moral, of course, ought to be “Never live somewhere where wolves are running around loose,” but whoever read you the story probably told you that the moral was not to lie. This is an absurd moral, for you and I both know that sometimes not only is it good to lie, it is necessary to lie. For example, it was perfectly appropriate, after Violet left the Reptile Room, for Sunny to crawl over to the cage that held the Incredibly Deadly Viper, unlatch the cage, and begin screaming as loudly as she could even though nothing was really wrong.
There is another story concerning wolves that somebody has probably read to you, which is just as absurd. I am talking about Little Red Riding Hood, an extremely unpleasant little girl who, like the Boy Who Cried Wolf, insisted on intruding on the territory of dangerous animals. You will recall that the wolf, after being treated very rudely by Little Red Riding Hood, ate the little girl’s grandmother and put on her clothing as a disguise. It is this aspect of the story that is the most ridiculous, because one would think that even a girl as dim-witted as Little Red Riding Hood could tell in an instant the difference between her grandmother and a wolf dressed in a nightgown and fuzzy slippers. If you know somebody very well, like your grandmother or your baby sister, you will know when they are real and when they are fake. This is why, as Sunny began to scream, Violet and Klaus could tell immediately that her scream was absolutely fake.
“That scream is absolutely fake,” Klaus said to himself, from the other end of the Reptile Room.
“That scream is absolutely fake,” Violet said to herself, from the stairs as she went up to her room.
“My Lord! Something is terribly wrong!” Mr. Poe said to himself, from the kitchen where he was talking on the phone. “Good-bye,” he said into the receiver, hung up, and ran out of the kitchen to see what the matter was.
“What’s the matter?” Mr. Poe asked Stephano and Dr. Lucafont, who had finished unloading the suitcases and were entering the house. “I heard some screams coming from the Reptile Room.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Stephano said.
“You know how children are,” Dr. Lucafont said.
“We can’t have another tragedy on our hands,” Mr. Poe said, and rushed to the enormous door of the Reptile Room. “Children! Children!”
“In here!” Klaus cried. “Come quickly!” His voice was rough and low, and anyone who didn’t know Klaus would think he was very frightened. If you did know Klaus, however, you would know that when he was very frightened his voice became tense and squeaky, as it did when he discovered Uncle Monty’s body. His voice became rough and low when he was trying not to laugh. It is a very good thing that Klaus managed not to laugh as Mr. Poe, Stephano, and Dr. Lucafont came into the Reptile Room. It would have spoiled everything.
Sunny was lying down on the marble floor, her tiny arms and legs waving wildly as if she were trying to swim. Her facial expression was what made Klaus want to chuckle. Sunny’s mouth was wide open, showing her four sharp teeth, and her eyes were blinking rapidly. She was trying to appear to be very frightened, and if you didn’t know Sunny it would have seemed genuine. But Klaus did know Sunny, and knew that when she was very frightened, her face grew all puckered and silent, as it did when Stephano had threatened to cut off one of her toes. To anyone but Klaus, Sunny looked as if she were very frightened, particularly because of who she was with. For wrapped around Sunny’s small body was a snake, as dark as a coal mine and as thick as a sewer pipe. It was looking at Sunny with shiny green eyes, and its mouth was open as if it were about to bite her.
“The Incredibly Deadly Viper!” Klaus cried. “It’s going to bite her!” Klaus screamed, and Sunny opened her mouth and eyes even wider to seem even more scared. Dr. Lucafont’s mouth opened too, and Klaus saw him start to say something, but he was unable to find words. Stephano, who of course could not have cared less about Sunny’s well-being, at least looked surprised, but it was Mr. Poe who absolutely panicked.
There are two basic types of panicking: standing still and not saying a word, and leaping all over the place babbling anything that comes into your head. Mr. Poe was the leaping-and-babbling kind. Klaus and Sunny had never seen the banker move so quickly or talk in such a high-pitched voice. “Goodness!” he cried. “Golly! Good God! Blessed Allah! Zeus and Hera! Mary and Joseph! Nathaniel Hawthorne! Don’t touch her! Grab her! Move closer! Run away! Don’t move! Kill the snake! Leave it alone! Give it some food! Don’t let it bite her! Lure the snake away! Here, snakey! Here, snakey snakey!”
The Incredibly Deadly Viper listened patiently to Mr. Poe’s speech, never taking its eyes off of Sunny, and when Mr. Poe paused to cough into his handkerchief, it leaned over and bit Sunny on the chin, right where it had bitten her when the two friends had first met. Klaus tried not to grin, but Dr. Lucafont gasped, Stephano stared, and Mr. Poe began leaping and babbling again.
“It’s bitten her!” he cried. “It bit her! It bited her! Calm down! Get moving! Call an ambulance! Call the police! Call a scientist! Call my wife! Thi
s is terrible! This is awful! This is ghastly! This is phantasmagorical! This is—”
“This is nothing to worry about,” Stephano interrupted smoothly.
“What do you mean, nothing to worry about?” Mr. Poe asked incredulously. “Sunny was just bitten by—what’s the name of the snake, Klaus?”
“The Incredibly Deadly Viper,” Klaus answered promptly.
“The Incredibly Deadly Viper!” Mr. Poe repeated, pointing to the snake as it held on to Sunny’s chin with its teeth. Sunny gave another fake shriek of fear. “How can you say it’s nothing to worry about?”
“Because the Incredibly Deadly Viper is completely harmless,” Stephano said. “Calm yourself, Poe. The snake’s name is a misnomer that Dr. Montgomery created for his own amusement.”
“Are you sure?” Mr. Poe asked. His voice got a little lower, and he moved a bit more slowly as he began to calm down.
“Of course I’m sure,” Stephano said, and Klaus recognized a look on his face he remembered from living at Count Olaf’s. It was a look of sheer vanity, a word which here means “Count Olaf thinking he’s the most incredible person who ever lived.” When the Baudelaire orphans had been under Olaf’s care, he had often acted this way, always happy to show off his skills, whether he was onstage with his atrocious theater company or up in his tower room making nasty plans. Stephano smiled, and continued to speak to Mr. Poe, eager to show off. “The snake is perfectly harmless—friendly, even. I read up on the Incredibly Deadly Viper, and many other snakes, in the library section of the Reptile Room as well as Dr. Montgomery’s private papers.”
Dr. Lucafont cleared his throat. “Uh, boss—” he said.
“Don’t interrupt me, Dr. Lucafont,” Stephano said. “I studied books on all the major species. I looked carefully at sketches and charts. I took careful notes and looked them over each night before I went to sleep. If I may say so, I consider myself to be quite the expert on snakes.”