A Series of Unfortunate Events Collection: Books 1-13 with Bonus Material Page 6

  “Nor I,” Violet said, “on mechanical engineering. I think I’d like to read about inheritance law.”

  “Well, let’s go,” Klaus said. “Justice Strauss said we could come over soon, and we don’t want to be standoffish.”

  At the mention of the word that Count Olaf had used so ridiculously, the Baudelaire orphans all laughed, even Sunny, who of course did not have a very big vocabulary. Swiftly they put away the clean oatmeal bowls in the kitchen cupboards, which watched them with painted eyes. Then the three young people ran next door. Friday, the day of the performance, was only a few days off, and the children wanted to figure out Count Olaf’s plan as quickly as possible.

  CHAPTER

  Seven

  There are many, many types of books in the world, which makes good sense, because there are many, many types of people, and everybody wants to read something different. For instance, people who hate stories in which terrible things happen to small children should put this book down immediately. But one type of book that practically no one likes to read is a book about the law. Books about the law are notorious for being very long, very dull, and very difficult to read. This is one reason many lawyers make heaps of money. The money is an incentive—the word “incentive” here means “an offered reward to persuade you to do something you don’t want to do”—to read long, dull, and difficult books.

  The Baudelaire children had a slightly different incentive for reading these books, of course. Their incentive was not heaps of money, but preventing Count Olaf from doing something horrible to them in order to get heaps of money. But even with this incentive, getting through the law books in Justice Strauss’s private library was a very, very, very hard task.

  “Goodness,” Justice Strauss said, when she came into the library and saw what they were reading. She had let them in the house but immediately went into the backyard to do her gardening, leaving the Baudelaire orphans alone in her glorious library. “I thought you were interested in mechanical engineering, animals of North America, and teeth. Are you sure you want to read those enormous law books? Even I don’t like reading them, and I work in law.”

  “Yes,” Violet lied, “I find them very interesting, Justice Strauss.”

  “So do I,” Klaus said. “Violet and I are considering a career in law, so we are fascinated by these books.”

  “Well,” Justice Strauss said, “Sunny can’t possibly be interested. Maybe she’d like to come help me with the gardening.”

  “Wipi!” Sunny shrieked, which meant “I’d much prefer gardening to sitting around watching my siblings struggle through law books.”

  “Well, make sure she doesn’t eat any dirt,” Klaus said, bringing Sunny over to the judge.

  “Of course,” said Justice Strauss. “We wouldn’t want her to be sick for the big performance.”

  Violet and Klaus exchanged a look. “Are you excited about the play?” Violet asked hesitantly.

  Justice Strauss’s face lit up. “Oh yes,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to perform onstage, ever since I was a little girl. And now Count Olaf has given me the opportunity to live my lifelong dream. Aren’t you thrilled to be a part of the theater?”

  “I guess so,” Violet said.

  “Of course you are,” Judge Strauss said, stars in her eyes and Sunny in her hands. She left the library and Klaus and Violet looked at each other and sighed.

  “She’s stagestruck,” Klaus said. “She won’t believe that Count Olaf is up to something, no matter what.”

  “She wouldn’t help us anyway,” Violet pointed out glumly. “She’s a judge, and she’d just start babbling about in loco parentis like Mr. Poe.”

  “That’s why we’ve got to find a legal reason to stop the performance,” Klaus said firmly. “Have you found anything in your book yet?”

  “Nothing helpful,” Violet said, glancing down at a piece of scrap paper on which she had been taking notes. “Fifty years ago there was a woman who left an enormous sum of money to her pet weasel, and none to her three sons. The three sons tried to prove that the woman was insane so the money would go to them.”

  “What happened?” Klaus asked.

  “I think the weasel died,” Violet replied, “but I’m not sure. I have to look up some of the words.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to help us anyway,” Klaus said.

  “Maybe Count Olaf is trying to prove that we’re insane, so he’d get the money,” Violet said.

  “But why would making us be in The Marvelous Marriage prove we were insane?” Klaus asked.

  “I don’t know,” Violet admitted. “I’m stuck. Have you found anything?”

  “Around the time of your weasel lady,” Klaus said, flipping through the enormous book he had been reading, “a group of actors put on a production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, and none of them wore any clothing.”

  Violet blushed. “You mean they were all naked, onstage?”

  “Only briefly,” Klaus said, smiling. “The police came and shut down the production. I don’t think that’s very helpful, either. It was just pretty interesting to read about.”

  Violet sighed. “Maybe Count Olaf isn’t up to anything,” she said. “I’m not interested in performing in his play, but perhaps we’re all worked up about nothing. Maybe Count Olaf really is just trying to welcome us into the family.”

  “How can you say that?” Klaus cried. “He struck me across the face.”

  “But there’s no way he can get hold of our fortune just by putting us in a play,” Violet said. “My eyes are tired from reading these books, Klaus, and they aren’t helping us. I’m going to go out and help Justice Strauss in the garden.”

  Klaus watched his sister leave the library and felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him. The day of the performance was not far off, and he hadn’t even figured out what Count Olaf was up to, let alone how to stop him. All his life, Klaus had believed that if you read enough books you could solve any problem, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  “You there!” A voice coming from the doorway startled Klaus out of his thoughts. “Count Olaf sent me to look for you. You are to return to the house immediately.”

  Klaus turned and saw one of the members of Count Olaf’s theater troupe, the one with hooks for hands, standing in the doorway. “What are you doing in this musty old room, anyway?” he asked in his croak of a voice, walking over to where Klaus was sitting. Narrowing his beady eyes, he read the title of one of the books. “Inheritance Law and Its Implications?” he said sharply. “Why are you reading that?”

  “Why do you think I’m reading it?” Klaus said.

  “I’ll tell you what I think.” The man put one of his terrible hooks on Klaus’s shoulder. “I think you should never be allowed inside this library again, at least until Friday. We don’t want a little boy getting big ideas. Now, where is your sister and that hideous baby?”

  “In the garden,” Klaus said, shrugging the hook off of his shoulder. “Why don’t you go and get them?”

  The man leaned over until his face was just inches from Klaus’s, so close that the man’s features flickered into a blur. “Listen to me very carefully, little boy,” he said, breathing out foul steam with every word. “The only reason Count Olaf hasn’t torn you limb from limb is that he hasn’t gotten hold of your money. He allows you to live while he works out his plans. But ask yourself this, you little bookworm: What reason will he have to keep you alive after he has your money? What do you think will happen to you then?”

  Klaus felt an icy chill go through him as the horrible man spoke. He had never been so terrified in all his life. He found that his arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably, as if he were having some sort of fit. His mouth was making strange sounds, like Sunny always did, as he struggled to find something to say. “Ah—” Klaus heard himself choke out. “Ah—”

  “When the time comes,” the hook-handed man said smoothly, ignoring Klaus’s noises, “I believe Count Olaf just might leave you to me. So if I
were you, I’d start acting a little nicer.” The man stood up again and put both his hooks in front of Klaus’s face, letting the light from the reading lamps reflect off the wicked-looking devices. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to fetch your poor orphan siblings.”

  Klaus felt his body go limp as the hook-handed man left the room, and he wanted to sit there for a moment and catch his breath. But his mind wouldn’t let him. This was his last moment in the library, and perhaps his last opportunity to foil Count Olaf’s plan. But what to do? Hearing the faint sounds of the hook-handed man talking to Justice Strauss in the garden, Klaus looked frantically around the library for something that could be helpful. Then, just as he heard the man’s footsteps heading back his way, Klaus spied one book, and quickly grabbed it. He untucked his shirt and put the book inside, hastily retucking it just as the hook-handed man reentered the library, escorting Violet and carrying Sunny, who was trying without success to bite the man’s hooks.

  “I’m ready to go,” Klaus said quickly, and walked out the door before the man could get a good look at him. He walked quickly ahead of his siblings, hoping that nobody would notice the book-shaped lump in his shirt. Maybe, just maybe, the book Klaus was smuggling could save their lives.

  CHAPTER

  Eight

  Klaus stayed up all night reading, which was normally something he loved to do. Back when his parents were alive, Klaus used to take a flashlight to bed with him and hide under the covers, reading until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Some mornings, his father would come into Klaus’s room to wake him up and find him asleep, still clutching his flashlight in one hand and his book in the other. But on this particular night, of course, the circumstances were much different.

  Klaus stood by the window, squinting as he read his smuggled book by the moonlight that trickled into the room. He occasionally glanced at his sisters. Violet was sleeping fitfully—a word which here means “with much tossing and turning”—on the lumpy bed, and Sunny had wormed her way into the pile of curtains so that she just looked like a small heap of cloth. Klaus had not told his siblings about the book, because he didn’t want to give them false hope. He wasn’t sure the book would help them out of their dilemma.

  The book was long, and difficult to read, and Klaus became more and more tired as the night wore on. Occasionally his eyes would close. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. But then he would remember the way the hook-hands of Count Olaf’s associate had glinted in the library, and would imagine them tearing into his flesh, and he would wake right up and continue reading. He found a small scrap of paper and tore it into strips, which he used to mark significant parts of the book.

  By the time the light outside grew gray with the approaching dawn, Klaus had found out all he needed to know. His hopes rose along with the sun. Finally, when the first few birds began to sing, Klaus tiptoed to the door of the bedroom and eased it open quietly, careful not to wake the restless Violet or Sunny, who was still hidden in the pile of curtains. Then he went to the kitchen and sat and waited for Count Olaf.

  He didn’t have to wait long before he heard Olaf tromping down the tower stairs. When Count Olaf walked into the kitchen, he saw Klaus sitting at the table and smirked, a word which here means “smiled in an unfriendly, phony way.”

  “Hello, orphan,” he said. “You’re up early.”

  Klaus’s heart was beating fast, but he felt calm on the outside, as if he had on a layer of invisible armor. “I’ve been up all night,” he said, “reading this book.” He put the book out on the table so Olaf could see it. “It’s called Nuptial Law,” Klaus said, “and I learned many interesting things while reading it.”

  Count Olaf had taken out a bottle of wine to pour himself some breakfast, but when he saw the book he stopped, and sat down.

  “The word ‘nuptial,’” Klaus said, “means ‘relating to marriage.’”

  “I know what the word means,” Count Olaf growled. “Where did you get that book?”

  “From Justice Strauss’s library,” Klaus said. “But that’s not important. What’s important is that I have found out your plan.”

  “Is that so?” Count Olaf said, his one eyebrow raising. “And what is my plan, you little runt?”

  Klaus ignored the insult and opened the book to where one of the scraps of paper was marking his place. “‘The laws of marriage in this community are very simple,’” he read out loud. “‘The requirements are as follows: the presence of a judge, a statement of “I do” by both the bride and the groom, and the signing of an explanatory document in the bride’s own hand.’” Klaus put down the book and pointed at Count Olaf. “If my sister says ‘I do’ and signs a piece of paper, while Justice Strauss is in the room, then she is legally married. This play you’re putting on shouldn’t be called The Marvelous Marriage. It should be called The Menacing Marriage. You’re not going to marry Violet figuratively—you’re going to marry her literally! This play won’t be pretend; it will be real and legally binding.”

  Count Olaf laughed a rough, hoarse laugh. “Your sister isn’t old enough to get married.”

  “She can get married if she has the permission of her legal guardian, acting in loco parentis,” Klaus said. “I read that, too. You can’t fool me.”

  “Why in the world would I want to actually marry your sister?” Count Olaf asked. “It is true she is very pretty, but a man like myself can acquire any number of beautiful women.”

  Klaus turned to a different section of Nuptial Law. “‘A legal husband,’” he read out loud, “‘has the right to control any money in the possession of his legal wife.’” Klaus gazed at Count Olaf in triumph. “You’re going to marry my sister to gain control of the Baudelaire fortune! Or at least, that’s what you planned to do. But when I show this information to Mr. Poe, your play will not be performed, and you will go to jail!”

  Count Olaf’s eyes grew very shiny, but he continued to smirk at Klaus. This was surprising. Klaus had guessed that once he announced what he knew, this dreadful man would have been very angry, even violent. After all, he’d had a furious outburst just because he’d wanted roast beef instead of puttanesca sauce. Surely he’d be even more enraged to have his plan discovered. But Count Olaf just sat there as calmly as if they were discussing the weather.

  “I guess you’ve found me out,” Olaf said simply. “I suppose you’re right: I’ll go to prison, and you and the other orphans will go free. Now, why don’t you run up to your room and wake your sisters? I’m sure they’ll want to know all about your grand victory over my evil ways.”

  Klaus looked closely at Count Olaf, who was continuing to smile as if he had just told a clever joke. Why wasn’t he threatening Klaus in anger, or tearing his hair out in frustration, or running to pack his clothes and escape? This wasn’t happening at all the way Klaus had pictured it.

  “Well, I will go tell my sisters,” he said, and walked back into his bedroom. Violet was still dozing on the bed and Sunny was still hidden beneath the curtains. Klaus woke Violet up first.

  “I stayed up all night reading,” Klaus said breathlessly, as his sister opened her eyes, “and I discovered what Count Olaf is up to. He plans to marry you for real, when you and Justice Strauss and everyone all think it’s just a play, and once he’s your husband he’ll have control of our parents’ money and he can dispose of us.”

  “How can he marry me for real?” Violet asked. “It’s only a play.”

  “The only legal requirements of marriage in this community,” Klaus explained, holding up Nuptial Law to show his sister where he’d learned the information, “are your saying ‘I do,’ and signing a document in your own hand in the presence of a judge—like Justice Strauss!”

  “But surely I’m not old enough to get married,” Violet said. “I’m only fourteen.”

  “Girls under the age of eighteen,” Klaus said, f
lipping to another part of the book, “can marry if they have the permission of their legal guardian. That’s Count Olaf.”

  “Oh no!” Violet cried. “What can we do?”

  “We can show this to Mr. Poe,” Klaus said, pointing to the book, “and he will finally believe us that Count Olaf is up to no good. Quick, get dressed while I wake up Sunny, and we can be at the bank by the time it opens.”

  Violet, who usually moved slowly in the mornings, nodded and immediately got out of bed and went to the cardboard box to find some proper clothing. Klaus walked over to the lump of curtains to wake up his younger sister.

  “Sunny,” he called out kindly, putting his hand on where he thought his sister’s head was. “Sunny.”

  There was no answer. Klaus called out “Sunny” again, and pulled away the top fold of the curtains to wake up the youngest Baudelaire child. “Sunny,” he said, but then he stopped. For underneath the curtain was nothing but another curtain. He moved aside all the layers, but his little sister was nowhere to be found. “Sunny!” he yelled, looking around the room. Violet dropped the dress she was holding and began to help him search. They looked in every corner, under the bed, and even inside the cardboard box. But Sunny was gone.

  “Where can she be?” Violet asked worriedly. “She’s not the type to run off.”

  “Where can she be indeed?” said a voice behind them, and the two children turned around. Count Olaf was standing in the doorway, watching Violet and Klaus as they searched the room. His eyes were shining brighter than they ever had, and he was still smiling like he’d just uttered a joke.

  CHAPTER

  Nine

  “Yes,” Count Olaf continued, “it certainly is strange to find a child missing. And one so small, and helpless.”

  “Where’s Sunny?” Violet cried. “What have you done with her?”