The Penultimate Peril (A Series of Unfortunate Events 12)

"Spelling counts," the judge said sternly.

"Well, 'innocence' should be spelled O-L-A-F," Count Olaf said, "and that's the end of my speech."

The bench crackled as Olaf sat down.

"That's all you have to say?" Justice Strauss asked in surprise.

"Yep," Count Olaf said.

"I told you not to leave out anything important," the judge reminded him.

"I'm the only important thing," Count Olaf insisted, "and I'm very innocent. I'm surethere's more in that enormous pile of evidence that proves me innocent than there is that proves me guilty."

"Well, all right," the judge said uncertainly. "Baudelaires, you may now tell us your side of the story."

The Baudelaires stood up unsteadily, their legs trembling in nervous anticipation, but once again they did not quite know what to say.

"Go on," Justice Strauss said kindly. "We're listening."

The Baudelaire orphans clasped hands. Although they had just been notified about the trial a few hours ago, the children felt as if they had been waiting forever to stand and tell their story to anyone who might listen. Although much of their story had been told to Mr. Poe, and noted in Klaus's commonplace book, and discussed with the Quagmire triplets and other noble people they had met during their travels, they had never had the opportunity to tell their entire tale, from the dreadful day at Briny Beachwhen Mr. Poe gave them the terrible news about their parents, to this very afternoon, as they stood at the High Court hoping that all of the villains in their lives would at last be brought to justice. Perhaps there had never been enough time to sit and tell their story just as they wanted to tell it, or perhaps their story was so unhappy that they dared not share all of the wretched details with anyone. Or perhaps the Baudelaires had simply not encountered anyone who listened to them as well as their parents had. As the siblings stood before the High Court, they could picture the faces of their mother and father, and the expressions they wore when listening to their children. Occasionally, one of the Baudelaires would be telling their parents a story, and there would be an interruption of some kind-the ringing of the p

hone, or the loud noise of a siren outside, or even a remark from one of the other siblings. "Hush," the Baudelaire parents would say to the interruption. "It's not your day in court," they would say, and then they would turn back to the Baudelaire who was talking, and give them a nod to indicate that the story should continue. The children stood together, as the wooden bench creaked behind them, and started to tell the story of their lives, a story they had waited their lives to tell.

"Well," Violet said, "one afternoon my siblings and I were at Briny Beach. I was dreaming up an invention that could retrieve a rock after you skipped it into the ocean. Klaus was examining creatures in tidepools. And Sunny noticed that Mr. Poe was walking toward us."

"Hmm," Justice Strauss said, but it wasn't a thoughtful kind of "hmm." Violet thought perhaps that the judge was saying "hmm" the way she had said "hmm" to either Frank or Ernest, as a safe answer.

"Go on," said a low, deep voice that belonged to one of the other judges. "Justice Strauss was merely being thoughtful."

"Mr. Poe told us that there had been a terrible fire," Klaus continued. "Our home was destroyed, and our parents were gone."

"Hmm," Justice Strauss said again, but it wasn't a sympathetic kind of "hmm." Klaus thought perhaps that the judge was taking a sip of tea, to fortify herself as the siblings told their story.

"Please continue," said another voice. This one was very hoarse, as if the third judge had been screaming for hours and could hardly talk. "Justice Strauss was merely being sympathetic."

"Bildungsroman," said Sunny. She meant something along the lines of, "Since that moment, our story has been a long, dreadful education in the wicked ways of the world and the mysterious secrets hidden in all of its corners," but before her siblings could translate, Justice Strauss uttered another "hmm," and this one was the strangest of all. It was not a thoughtful "hmm," nor did it sound like a safe answer, and it certainly wasn't sympathetic, or the noise someone might make while taking a sip of tea. To Sunny the "hmm" sounded like a noise she'd heard a long time ago, not long after the day on Briny Beach the children were describing. The youngest Baudelaire had heard the same noise coming from her own mouth, when she was dangling outside Count Olaf's tower room in a bird cage with a piece of tape covering her mouth. Sunny gasped, recognizing the sound just as Klaus recognized the voice of the second judge, and Violet recognized the voice of the third. Blindly, the Baudelaires reached out their hands to clutch one another in panic.

"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!" Esme snapped. "They're worse than my ex-boyfriend!"

"I believe them!" Charles said, scratching at his blindfold. "They've experienced villainy before!"

&nbsp

; "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.