"That doesn't seem fair," remarked a man in pajamas with a pattern of salmon swimming upstream. "After all, they woke us up in the middle of the night."
"The case is a matter for the High Court," Justice Strauss said. "The authorities have been notified, and the other judges of the court are on their way. We will be able to begin the trial in a matter of hours."
"I thought the trial was on Thursday," said a woman in a nightgown emblazoned with dancing clowns.
"Showing up early is one of the signs of a noble person," Justice Strauss said. "Once the other noble judges have arrived, we will decide on this matter-and other equally important matters-once and for all."
There was a murmur of discussion in the crowd. "I suppose that's all right," grumbled someone.
"All right?" Geraldine Julienne said. "It's wonderful! I can see the headline now: 'HIGH COURT FINDS BAUDELAIRES GUILTY!'"
"No one is guilty until the trial is over," Justice Strauss said, and for the first time the judge gazed down at the children and gave them a gentle smile. It was a small mercy, that smile, and the frightened Baudelaires smiled back. Justice Strauss stepped off the bench and walked through the murmuring crowd, followed by Jerome Squalor.
"Don't worry, children," Jerome said. "It looks like you won't have to wait until tomorrow for justice to be served."
"I hope so," Violet said.
"I thought judges weren't allowed to reach verdicts on people they know," Klaus said.
"Normally that's true," Justice Strauss said. "The law should be impartial and fair. But I think I can be fair where Count Olaf is concerned."
"Besides," Jerome said, "there are two other judges on the High Court. Justice Strauss's opinion is not the only one that matters."
"I trust my fellow judges," Justice Strauss said. "I've known them for years, and they've always been concerned whenever I've reported on your case. While we wait for them to arrive, however, I've asked the managers of the hotel to put you in Room 121, to keep you away from this angry crowd."
Without a word, Frank or Ernest unlocked the door and revealed the small, bare closet where Violet had found the harpoon gun. "We'll be locked up?" Klaus said nervously.
"Just to keep you safe," Justice Strauss said, "until the trial begins."
"Yes!" cried a voice the children would never forget. The crowd parted to reveal Count Olaf, who walked toward the Baudelaires with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Lock them up!" he said. "We can't have treacherous people running around the hotel! There are noble, decent people here."
"Really?" asked Colette.
"Ha!" Count Olaf said. "I mean, of course! The High Court will decide who's noble and who's wicked. In the meantime, the orphans should be locked in a closet."
"Hear hear!" Kevin said, raising one arm and then the other in an ambidextrous salute.
"They're not the only ones," Justice Strauss said sternly. "You, sir, have also been accused of a great deal of treachery, and the High Court is very interested in your case as well. You will be locked in Room 165 until the trial begins."
The man who was not Frank but Ernest, or vice versa, stepped sternly out of the crowd and took Olaf's arm.
"Fair enough," said Olaf. "I'm happy to wait for the verdict of the High Court. Ha!"
The three siblings looked at one another, and then around the lobby, where the crowd was looking fiercely back at them. They did not want to be locked in a small room, no matter what the reason, and they could not understand why the idea of the High Court reaching a verdict on Count Olaf made him laugh. However, they knew that arguing with the crowd would be bootless, a word which here means "likely to get the siblings in even more trouble," and so without another word, the three Baudelaires stepped inside the closet. Jerome and Justice Strauss gave them a little wave, and Mr. Poe gave them a little cough, and either Frank or Ernest stepped forward to shut the door. At the sight of the manager, the children suddenly thought not of Dewey, but of the family left behind, just as Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were all left behind after that first day at Briny Beach, and the dreadful news they received there.
"We're sorry," Sunny said, and the manager looked down at the youngest Baudelaire and blinked. Perhaps he was Frank, and thought the Baudelaires had done something wicked, or perhaps he was Ernest, and thought the Baudelaires had done something noble, but in either case the manager looked surprised that the children were sorry. For a moment, he paused, and gave them a tiny nod, but then he shut the door and the Baudelaire children were alone. The door of Room 121 was surprisingly thick, and although the light of the lobby shone clearly through the gap at the bottom of the door, the noise of the crowd was nothing but a faint buzzing, like a swarm of bees or the workings of a machine. The orphans sank to the floor, exhausted from their busy day and their terrible, terrible night. They took off their shoes and leaned against one another in the cramped surroundings, trying to find a comfortable position and listening to the buzz of the arguing crowd in the lobby.
"What will happen to us?" Violet asked.
"I don't know," Klaus said.
"Perhaps we should have run," Violet said, "like you suggested, Klaus."
"Perhaps at a trial," the middle Baudelaire said, "the villains at last will be brought to justice."
"Olaf," Sunny asked, "or us?"
What Sunny asked, of course, was whether Count Olaf was the villain who would be brought to justice, or if it would be the three Baudelaires, but her siblings had no answer for her. Instead, the eldest Baudelaire leaned down and kissed the top of her sister's head, and Klaus leaned up to kiss Violet's, and Sunny moved her head first to the right and then to the left, to kiss both of them. If you had been in the lobby of the Hotel Denouement, you would not have heard anything from behind the thick door of Room 121, as the Baudelaires ended their conversation with a great, shuddering sigh, and nestled close to one another in the small space. You would have had to be on the other side of the door, leaning against the children yourself, to hear the tiny, quiet sounds as the Baudelaire orphans cried themselves to sleep, unable to answer Sunny's question.
CHAPTER Eleven
An old expression, used even before the schism, says that people should not see the creation of laws or sausages. This makes sense, as the creation of sausages involves taking various parts of different animals and shaping them until they are presentable at breakfast, and the creation of laws involves taking various parts of different ideas and shaping them until they are presentable at breakfast, and most people prefer to spend their breakfasts eating food and reading the newspaper without being exposed to creation of any sort whatsoever.
The High Court, like most courts, was not involved in the creation of laws, but it was involved in the interpretation of laws, which is as perplexing and unfathomable as their creation, and like the interpretation of sausages is something that also should not be seen. If you were to put this book down, and travel to the pond that now reflects nothing but a few burnt scraps of wood and the empty skies, and if you were to find the hidden passageway that leads to the underwater catalog that has remained secret and safe for all these years, you could read an account of an interpretation of sausages that went horribly wrong and led to the destruction of a very important bathyscaphe, all because I mistakenly thought the sausages were arranged in the shape of a K when actually the waiter had been trying to make an R, and an account of an interpretation of the law that went horribly wrong, although it would hardly be worth the trip as that account is also contained in the remaining chapters of this book, but if you were at all sensible you would shield your eyes from such interpretations, as they are too dreadful to read. As Violet, Klaus, and Sunny caught a few winks-a phrase which here means "slept fitfully in the closet-sized Room 121"-arrangements were made for the trial, during which the three judges of the High Court would interpret the laws and decide on the nobility and treachery of Count Olaf and the Baudelaires, but the children were surprised to learn, when a sharp knock on the door awakened them, tha
t they would not see this interpretation themselves.
"Here are your blindfolds," said one of the managers, opening the door and handing the children three pieces of black cloth. The Baudelaires suspected he was Ernest, as he hadn't bothered to say "Hello."
"Blindfolds?" Violet asked.
"Everyone wears blindfolds at a High Court trial," the manager replied, "except the judges, of course. Haven't you heard the expression 'Justice is blind'?"
"Yes," Klaus said, "but I always thought itmeant that justice should be fair and unprejudiced."
"The verdict of the High Court was to take the expression literally," said the manager, "so everyone except the judges must cover their eyes before the trial can begin."
"Scalia," Sunny said. She meant something like, "It doesn't seem like the literal interpretation makes any sense," but her siblings did not think it was wise to translate.
"I also brought you some tea," he said, revealing a tray containing a teapot and three cups. "I thought it might fortify you for the trial."
By "fortify," the manager meant that a few sips of tea might give the children some much-needed strength for their ordeal, and the children thought it must be Frank who was doing them such a favor. "You're very kind," Violet said.
"I'm sorry there's no sugar," he said.
"That's quite all right," Klaus said, and then hurriedly flipped to a page in his commonplace book until he found his notes on the children's conversation with Kit Snicket. "'Tea should be bitter as wormwood,'" he read, "'and as sharp as a two-edged sword.'"
The manager gave Klaus a small, unfathomable smile. "Drink your tea," he said. "I'll knock in a few minutes to bring you to trial."
Frank, unless it was Ernest, shut the door, and left the Baudelaires alone.
"Why did you say that about the tea?" Violet asked.
"I thought he might be talking to us in code," Klaus said. "I thought if we gave the proper reply, something might happen."
"Unfathomable," Sunny said.
"Everything seems unfathomable," Violet said with a sigh, pouring tea for her siblings. "It's getting so that I can't tell a noble person from a wicked one."
"Kit said that the only way to tell a villain from a volunteer is to observe everyone, and make such judgements ourselves," Klaus said, "but that hasn't helped us at all."
"Today the High Court will do the judging for us," Violet said. "Maybe they'll prove to be helpful."
"Or fail us," Sunny said.
The eldest Baudelaire smiled, and reached to help her sister put on her shoes. "I wish our parents could see how much you've grown," she said. "Mother always said that as soon as you learned to walk, Sunny, you'd be going places."
"I doubt a closet in the Hotel Denouement was what she had in mind," Klaus said, blowing on his tea to cool it.
"Who knows what they had in mind?" Violet asked. "That's one more mystery we'll probably never solve."
Sunny took a sip of tea, which was indeed as bitter as wormwood and as sharp as a two-edged sword, although the youngest Baudelaire had little experience with metallic weapons or hoary aromatic plants of the composite family, used in certain recreational tonics. "Mama and Poppa," she said hesitantly, "and poison darts?"
Her siblings did not have time to answer, as there was another knock on the door. "Finish your tea," called either Frank or Ernest, "and put on your blindfolds. The trial is about to begin."
The Baudelaires hurried to follow the instructions of either the volunteer or the villain, and took a few quick sips of their tea, tied their shoes, and wound the pieces of cloth around their eyes. In a moment they heard the door of Room 121 open, and heard Frank or Ernest step toward them.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"We're right here," Violet said. "Can't you see us?"
"Of course not," the manager replied. "I'm also wearing a blindfold. Reach for my hand, and I'll lead you to the trial."
The eldest Baudelaire reached out in front of her and found a large, rough hand awaiting hers. Klaus took Violet's other hand, and Sunny took Klaus's, and in this way the children were led out of Room 121. The expression "the blind leading the blind," like the expression "Justice is blind," is usually not taken literally, as it simply refers to a confusing situation in which the people in charge know nothing more than the people following them. But as the Baudelaires learned as they were led through the lobby, the blindfolded leading the blindfolded results in the same sort of confusion. The children could not see anything through their blindfolds, but the room was filled with the sounds of people looking for their companions, bumping up against one another, and running into the walls and furniture. Violet was poked in the eye by someone's chubby finger. Klaus was mistaken for someone named Jerry by a man who gave him an enormous hug before learning of his mistake. And someone bumped into Sunny's head, assumed she was an ornamental vase, and tried to place an umbrella in her mouth. Above the noise of the crowd, the Baudelaires heard the clock strike twelve insistent Wrong!s, and realized they had been sleeping quite some time. It was already Wednesday afternoon, which meant that Thursday, and the arrival of their noble friends and associates, was quite close indeed.
"Attention!" The voice of Justice Strauss was also quite close indeed, and rang out over the crowd, along with the repeated banging of a gavel, a word which refers to the small hammer used by judges when they want someone's attention. "Attention everyone! The trial is about to begin! Everyone please take your seats!"
"How can we take our seats," a man asked, "when we can't see them?"
"Feel around with your hands," Justice Strauss said. "Move to your right. Further. Further. Further. Furth- "
"Ow!"
"Not that far," the judge said. "There! Sit! Now the rest of you follow his lead!"
"How can we do what he did," asked someone else, "if we can't see him?"
"Can we peek?" asked another person.
"No peeking!" Justice Strauss said sternly. "Our system of justice isn't perfect, but it's the only one we have. I remind you that all three judges of the High Court are bare-eyed, and if you peek you will be guilty of contempt of court! 'Contempt,' by the way, is a word for finding something worthless or dishonorable."
"I know what the word 'contempt' means," snarled a voice the children could not recognize.
"I defined the word for the benefit of the Baudelaires," Justice Strauss said, and the children nodded their thanks in the direction of the judge's voice, although all three siblings had known the meaning of "contempt" since a night long ago when Uncle Monty had taken them to the movies. "Baudelaires, take three steps to your right. Three more. One more. There! You've reached your bench. Please sit down."
The Baudelaires sat down on one of the lobby's wooden benches and listened to the footsteps of the manager as he left them alone and stumbled back into the settling crowd. Finally, it sounded as if everyone had found a seat of some kind or another, and with another few bangs of the gavel and calls for attention, the crowd quieted down and Justice Strauss began the trial.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," she said, her voice coming from right in front of the Baudelaires, "and anyone else who happens to be in attendance. It has come to the attention of the High Court that certain wicked deeds have gone unpunished, and that this wickedness is continuing at an alarming rate. We planned to hold a trial on Thursday, but after the death of Mr. Denouement it is clear we should proceed earlier, in the interests of justice and nobility. We will hear what each witness has to say and determine once and for all who is responsible. The guilty parties will be turned over to the authorities, who are waiting outside, making sure that no one will try to escape while the trial is in progress."
"And speaking of guilty parties," Count Olaf added, "when the trial is over, everyone is invited to a very in cocktail party, hosted by me! Wealthy women are particularly welcome!"
"I'm hosting it," snarled the voice of Esme Squalor, "and fashionable men will be given a free gift."
"All g
ifts are free," said either Frank or Ernest.
"You're out of order," Justice Strauss said sternly, banging her gavel. "We are discussing social justice, not social engagements. Now then, will the accused parties please stand and state their names and occupations for the record?"
The Baudelaires stood up hesitantly.
"You too, Count Olaf," Justice Strauss said firmly. The wooden bench crackled beside the Baudelaires, and they realized the notorious villain had also been sitting on the bench, and was now standing beside them.
"Name?" the judge asked.
"Count Olaf," Count Olaf replied.
"Occupation?"
"Impresario," he said, using a fancy word for someone who puts on theatrical spectacles.
"And are you innocent or guilty?" asked Justice Strauss.
The children thought they could hear Olaf's filthy teeth slide against his lips as he smiled. "I'm unspeakably innocent," he said, and murmuring spread through the crowd like a ripple on the surface of a pond.
"You may be seated," Justice Strauss said, banging her gavel. "Children, you are next. Please state your names."
"Violet Baudelaire," said Violet Baudelaire.
"Klaus Baudelaire," said Klaus Baudelaire.
"Sunny Baudelaire," said Sunny Baudelaire.
The children heard the scratching of a pen, and realized that the judge was writing down everything that was being said. "Occupations?"
The Baudelaires did not know how to answer this question. The word "occupation," as I'm sure you know, usually refers to a job, but the Baudelaires' employment was sporadic, a word which here means "consisting of a great number of occupations, held for a short time and under very unusual circumstances." The word can also refer to how one spends one's time, but the siblings hardly liked to think of all the dreadful things that had occupied them recently. Lastly, the word "occupation" can refer to the state one is in, such as being a woman's husband, or a child's guardian, but the youngsters were not certain how such a term could apply to the bewildering history of their lives. The Baudelaires thought and thought, and finally each gave their answer as they saw fit.
The Penultimate Peril Page 13
