The Penultimate Peril - Snicket Lemony (бесплатные онлайн книги читаем полные версии .TXT) 📗

"You won't dare unleash the Medusoid Mycelium," Dewey said. "Not while I have the sugar bowl."

"Funny you should mention the sugar bowl," Esme Squalor said, although the Baudelaires could see she didn't think it was funny at all. "That's just what we want to ask you about."

"The sugar bowl?" Count Olaf asked, his eyes shining bright. "Where is it?"

"The freaks will tell you," Esme said.

"It's true, boss," said Hugo. "I may be a mere hunchback, but I saw Carmelita shoot down the crows using the harpoon gun Violet brought her."

Justice Strauss turned to Violet in astonishment. "You gave Carmelita the harpoon gun?" she gasped.

"Well, yes," Violet said. "I had to perform concierge errands as part of my disguise."

"The harpoon gun was supposed to be kept away from villains," the judge said, "not given to them. Why didn't Frank stop you?"

Violet thought back to her unfathomable conversation with Frank. "I think he tried," she said quietly, "but I had to take the harpoon gun up to the roof. What else could I do?"

"I hit two crows!" bragged Carmelita Spats. "That means Countie has to teach me how to spit like a real ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!"

"Don't worry, darling," Esme said. "He'll teach you. Won't you, Olaf?"

Count Olaf sighed, as if he had better things to do than teach a little girl how to propel saliva out of her mouth. "Yes, Carmelita," he said, "I'll teach you how to spit."

Colette took center stage, a phrase which here means "stepped forward, and twisted her body into an unusual shape." "Even a contortionist like me," she said, her mouth moving beneath her elbow, "could see what happened after Carmelita shot the crows. They fell right onto the birdpaper that Klaus dangled out the window."

"You dangled the birdpaper out the window?" Jerome asked the middle Baudelaire.

"Ernest told me to," Klaus said, finally realizing which manager had spoken to him in the sauna. "I had to obey him as part of my disguise."

"You can't just do what everyone tells you to do," Jerome said.

"What else could I do?" Klaus said.

"When the crows hit the birdpaper," Kevin said, gesturing with one hand and then the other, "they dropped the sugar bowl. I didn't see where it went with either my right eye or my left one, which I'm sad to say are equally strong. But I did see Sunny turn the door of the laundry room into a Vernacularly Fastened Door."

"Aha!" Count Olaf cried. "The sugar bowl must have fallen down the funnel!"

"I still don't see why I had to disguise myself as a washerwoman," Kevin said timidly. "I could have just been a washerperson, and not worn this humiliating wig."

"Or you could have been a noble person," Violet could not help adding, "instead of spying on a brave volunteer."

"What else could I do?" Kevin asked, shrugging both shoulders equally high.

"You could be a volunteer yourself," Klaus said, looking at all of his former carnival coworkers. "All of you could stand with us now, instead of helping Count Olaf with his schemes."

"I could never be a noble person," Hugo said sadly. "I have a hump on my back."

"And I'm a contortionist," Colette said. "Someone who can bend their body into unusual shapes could never be a volunteer."

"V.F.D. would never accept an ambidextrous person," Kevin said. "It's my destiny to be a treacherous person."

"Galimatias!" Sunny cried.

"Nonsense!" Dewey said, who understood at once what Sunny had said. "I'm ambidextrous myself, and I've managed to do something worthwhile with my life. Being treacherous isn't your destiny! It's your choice!"

"I'm glad you feel that way," Esme Squalor said. "You have a choice this very moment, Frank. Tell me where the sugar bowl is, or else!"

"That's not a choice," Dewey said, "and I'm not Frank."

Esme frowned. "Then you have a choice this very moment, Ernest. Tell me where the sugar bowl is, or-"

"Dewey," Sunny said.

Esme blinked at the youngest Baudelaire, who noticed that the villainous woman's eyelashes had also been painted silver. "What?" she asked.

"It's true," Olaf said. "He's the real sub-sub. It turns out he's not legendary, like Verdi."

"Is that so?" Esme Squalor said. "So someone has really been cataloging everything that has happened between us?"

"It's been my life's work," Dewey said. "Eventually, every crucial secret ends up in my catalog."

"Then you know all about the sugar bowl," Esme said, "and what's inside. You know how important that thing was, and how many lives were lost in the quest to find it. You know how difficult it was to find a container that could hold it safely, securely, and attractively. You know what it means to the Baudelaires and what it means to the Snickets." She took one sandaled step closer to Dewey, and stretched out one silver fingernail-the one shaped like an S-until it was almost poking him in the eye. "And you know," she said in a terrible voice, "that it is mine."

"Not anymore," Dewey said.

"Beatrice stole it from me!" Esme cried.

"There are worse things," Dewey said, "than theft."

At this, the girlfriend gave the sub-sublibrarian a chuckle that made the Baudelaires' blood run cold. "There certainly are," she said, and strode toward Carmelita Spats. With one spiky fingernail-the one shaped like an M- she moved the harpoon gun so it was pointing at the triplet. "Tell me how to open that door," she said, "or this little girl will harpoon you."

"I'm not a little girl!" Carmelita remindedEsme nastily. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate! And I'm not going to shoot any more harpoons until Countie teaches me how to spit."

"You'll do what we say, Carmelita," Olaf growled. "I already purchased that ridiculous outfit for you, and that boat for you to prowl the swimming pool. Point that weapon at Dewey this instant!"

"Teach me to spit!" Carmelita said.

"Point the weapon!"

"Teach me to spit!"

"Point the weapon!"

"Teach me to spit!"

"Weapon!"

"Spit!"

"Weapon!"

"Spit!"

With a raspy roar, Count Olaf roughly yanked the harpoon gun out of Carmelita's hands, knocking her to the floor. "I'll never teach you how to spit as long as I live!" he shouted. "Ha!"

"Darling!" Esme gasped. "You can't break your promise to our darling little girl!"

"I'm not a darling little girl!" Carmelita screamed. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!"

"You're a spoiled baby!" Olaf corrected. "I never wanted a brat like you around anyway! It's about time you were shown some discipline!"

"But discipline is out!" Esme said.

"I don't care what's out and what's in!" Count Olaf cried. "I'm tired of having a girlfriend obsessed with fashion! All you do is sit around rooftop sunbathing salons while I run around doing all the work!"

"If I hadn't been on the roof," Esme retorted, "the sugar bowl would have been delivered to V.F.D.! Besides, I was guarding-"

"Never mind what you were doing," Olaf said. "You're fired!"

"You can't fire me!" Esme growled. "I quit!"

"Well, you can leave by mutual agreement," Olaf grumbled, and then, with another succinct

"Ha!" he lifted the harpoon gun and pointed it at Dewey Denouement. "Tell us the three phrases we need to type into the lock in order to open the Vernacularly Fastened Door and search the laundry room!"

"You won't find anything in the laundry room," Dewey said, "except piles of dirty sheets, a few washing and drying machines, and some extremely flammable chemicals."

"I may have a handsome, youthful glow," Olaf snarled, "but I wasn't born yesterday! Ha! If there's nothing in the laundry room, why did you put a V.F.D. lock on the door?"

"Perhaps it's just a decoy," Dewey said, his hand still trembling in Violet's.