A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Ersatz Elevator (2 page)

merely means that things will get better in the future. The children had understood the joke, but they were too anxious to laugh. They were anxious about Count Olaf, who might find them any minute. They were anxious about the Quagmire triplets, whom they might never see again. And now, as they began to walk up the candlelit stairway, they were anxious about their new guardians. They tried to imagine what sort of people would live on such a dark street, in such a dark building, and at the top of either fortyeight or eighty-four flights of very dark stairs. They found it difficult to believe that things would get better in the future when they lived in such gloomy and poorly lit surroundings. Even though a long, upward climb awaited them, as the Baudelaire orphans started walking into the darkness, they were too anxious to believe it was all uphill from here.

Chapter Two

In order to get a better sense of exactly how the Baudelaire orphans felt as they began the grueling journey up the stairs to Mr. and Mrs. Squalor's penthouse apartment, you might find it useful to close your eyes as you read this chapter, because the light was so dim from the small candles on the ground that it felt as if their eyes were closed even when they were looking as hard as they could. At each curve in the staircase, there was a door that led to the apartment on each floor, and a pair of sliding elevator doors. From behind the sliding doors, the youngsters of course heard nothing, as the elevator had been shut down, but behind the doors to the apartments the children could hear the noises of people who lived in the building. When they reached the seventh floor, they heard two men laugh as somebody told a joke. When they reached the twelfth floor, they heard the splashing of water as somebody took a bath. When they reached the nineteenth floor, they heard a woman say "Let them eat cake" in a voice with a strange accent. "I wonder what people will hear when they walk by the penthouse apartment," Violet wondered out loud, "when we are living there." "I hope they hear me turning pages," Klaus said. "Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Squalor will have some interesting books to read." "Or maybe people will hear me using a wrench," Violet said. "I hope the Squalors have some tools they'd let me use for my inventing." "Crife!" Sunny said, crawling carefully past one of the candles on the ground. Violet looked down at her and smiled. "I don't think that will be a problem, Sunny," she said. "You usually find something or other to bite. Be sure to speak up when you want us to start carrying you." "I wish somebody could carry me, " Klaus said, clutching the banister for support. "I'm getting tired." "Me too," Violet admitted. "You would think, after Count Olaf made us run all those laps when he was disguised as a gym teacher, that these stairs wouldn't tire us out, but that's not the case. What floor are we on, anyway?" "I don't know," Klaus said. "The doors aren't numbered, and I've lost count." "Well, we won't miss the penthouse," Violet said. "It's on the top floor, so we'll just keep walking until the stairs stop." "I wish you could invent a device that could take us up the stairs," Klaus said. Violet smiled, although her siblings couldn't see it in the darkness. "That device was invented a long time ago," she said. "It's called an elevator. But elevators are out, remember?" Klaus smiled too. "And tired feet are in," he said. "Remember that time," Violet said, "when our parents attended the Sixteenth Annual Run-aThon, and their feet were so tired when they got home that Dad prepared dinner while sitting on the kitchen floor, instead of standing?" "Of course I remember," Klaus said. "We had only salad, because they couldn't stand up and reach the stove." "It would have been a perfect meal for Aunt Josephine," Violet said, remembering one of the Baudelaires' previous guardians. "She never wanted to use the stove, because she thought it might explode." "Pomres," Sunny said sadly. She meant something along the lines of "As it turned out, the stove was the least of Aunt Josephine's problems." "That's true," Violet said quietly, as the children heard someone sneeze from behind a door. "I wonder what the Squalors will be like," Klaus said. "Well, they must be wealthy to live on Dark Avenue," Violet said. "Akrofil," Sunny said, which meant "And they're not afraid of heights, that's for sure." Klaus smiled and looked down at his sister. "You sound tired, Sunny," he said. "Violet and I can take turns carrying you. We'll switch every three floors." Violet nodded in agreement with Klaus's plan, and then said "Yes" out loud because she realized that her nod was invisible in the gloom. They continued up the staircase, and I'm sorry to say that the two older Baudelaires took many, many turns holding Sunny. If the Baudelaires had been going up a staircase of regular size, I would write the sentence "Up and up they went," but a more appropriate sentence would begin "Up and up and up and up" and would take either forty-eight or eighty-four pages to reach "they went," because the staircase was so unbelievably lengthy. Occasionally, they would pass the shadowy figure of someone else walking down the stairs, but the children were too tired to say even "Good afternoon"--and, later, "Good evening"-to these other residents of 667 Dark Avenue. The Baudelaires grew hungry. They grew achy. And they grew very tired of gazing at identical candles and steps and doors. Just when they could stand it no longer, they reached another candle and step and door, and about five flights after that the stairs finally ended and deposited the tired children in a small room with one last candle sitting in the middle of the carpet. By the light of the candle, the Baudelaire orphans could see the door to their new home, and across the way, two pairs of sliding elevator doors with arrowed buttons alongside. "Just think," Violet said, panting from her long walk up the stairs, "if elevators were in, we would have arrived at the Squalor penthouse in just a few minutes." "Well, maybe they'll be back in soon," Klaus said. "I hope so. The other door must be to the Squalors' apartment. Let's knock." They knocked on the door, and almost instantly it swung open to reveal a tall man wearing a suit with long, narrow stripes down it. Such a suit is called a pinstripe suit, and is usually worn by people who are either movie stars or gangsters. "I thought I heard someone approaching the door," the man said, giving the children a smile that was so big they could see it even in the dim room. "Please come in. My name is Jerome Squalor, and I'm so happy that you've come to stay with us." "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Squalor," Violet said, still panting, as she and her siblings walked into an entryway almost as dim as the staircase. "I'm Violet Baudelaire, and this is my brother, Klaus, and my sister, Sunny." "Goodness, you sound out of breath," Mr. Squalor said. "Luckily, I can think of two things to do about that. One is that you can stop calling me Mr. Squalor and start calling me Jerome. I'll call you three by your first names, too, and that way we'll all save breath. The second thing is that I'll make you a nice, cold martini. Come right this way." "A martini?" Klaus asked. "Isn't that an alcoholic beverage?" "Usually it is," Jerome agreed. "But right now, alcoholic martinis are out. Aqueous martinis are in. An aqueous martini is simply cold water served in a fancy glass with an olive in it, so it's perfectly legal for children as well as for adults." "I've never had an aqueous martini," Violet said, "but I'll try one." "Ah!" Jerome said. "You're adventurous! I like that in a person. Your mother was adventurous, too. You know, she and I were very good friends a ways back. We hiked up Mount Fraught with some friends--gosh, it must have been twenty years ago. Mount Fraught was known for having dangerous animals on it, but your mother wasn't afraid. But then, swooping out of the sky--" "Jerome, who was that at the door?" called a voice from the next room, and in walked a tall, slender woman, also dressed in a pinstripe suit. She had long fingernails that were so strongly polished that they shone even in the dim light. "The Baudelaire children, of course," Jerome replied. "But they're not coming today!" the woman cried. "Of course they are," Jerome said. "I've been looking forward to it for days and days! You know," he said, turning from the woman to the Baudelaires, "I wanted to adopt you from the moment I heard about the fire. But, unfortunately, it was impossible." "Orphans were out then," the woman explained. "Now they're in." "My wife is always very attentive to what's in and what's out," Jerome said. "I don't care about it much, but Esme feels differently. She was the one who insisted on having the elevator removed. Esme, I was just about to make them some aqueous martinis. Would you like one?" "Oh, yes!" Esme cried. "Aqueous martinis are in!" She walked quickly over to the children and looked them over. "I'm Esme Gigi Geniveve Squalor, the city's sixth most important financial advisor," she announced grandly. "Even though I am unbelievably wealthy, you may call me Esme. I'll learn your names later. I'm very happy you're here, because orphans are in, and when all my friends hear that I have three real live orphans, they'll be sick with jealousy, won't they, Jerome?" "I hope not," Jerome said, leading the children down a long, dim hallway to a huge, dim room that had various fancy couches, chairs, and tables. At the far end of the room was a series of windows, all with their shades drawn so that no light could get in. "I don't like to hear of anybody getting sick. Well, have a seat, children, and we'll tell you a little bit about your new home." The Baudelaires sat down in three huge chairs, grateful for the opportunity to rest their feet. Jerome crossed to one of the tables, where a pitcher of water sat next to a bowl of olives and some fancy glasses, and quickly prepared the aqueous martinis. "Here you go," he said, handing Esme and the children each a fancy glass. "Let's see. In case you ever get lost, remember that your new address is 667 Dark Avenue in the penthouse apartment." "Oh, don't tell them silly things like that," Esme said, waving her long-nailed hand in front of her face as if a moth were attacking it. "Children, here are some things you should know. Dark is in. Light is out. Stairs are in. Elevators are out. Pinstripe suits are in. Those horrible clothes you are wearing are out." "What Esme means," Jerome said quickly, "is that we want you to feel as comfortable here as possible." Violet took a sip of her aqueous martini. She was not surprised to find that it tasted like plain water, with a slight hint of olive. She didn't like it much, but it did quench her thirst from the long climb up the stairs. "That's very nice of you," she said. "Mr. Poe told me about some of your previous guardians," Jerome said, shaking his head. "I feel awful that you've had such terrible experiences, and that we could have cared for you the entire time." "It couldn't be helped," Esme said. "When something is out, it's out, and orphans used to be out." "I heard all about this Count Olaf person, too," Jerome said. "I told the doorman not to let anyone in the building who looked even vaguely like that despicable man, so you should be safe." "That's a relief," Klaus said. "That dreadful man is supposed to be up on some mountain, anyway," Esme said. "Remember, Jerome? That unstylish banker said he was going away in a helicopter to go find those twins he kidnapped." "Actually," Violet said, "they're triplets. The Quagmires are good friends of ours." "My word!" Jerome said. "You must be worried sick!" "Well, if they find them soon," Esme said, "maybe we'll adopt them, too. Five orphans! I'll be the innest person in town!" "We certainly have room for them," Jerome said. "This is a seventy-one-bedroom apartment, children, so you will have your pick of rooms. Klaus, Poe mentioned something about your being interested in inventing things, is that right?" "My sister's the inventor," Klaus replied. "I'm more of a researcher myself." "Well, then," Jerome said. "You can have the bedroom next to the library, and Violet can have the one that has a large wooden bench, perfect for keeping tools. Sunny can be in the room between you two. How does that sound?" That sounded absolutely splendid, of course, but the Baudelaire orphans did not get an opportunity to say so, because a telephone rang just at that instant. "I'll get it! I'll get it!" Esme cried, and raced across the room to pick up the phone. "Squalor residence," she said, into the receiver, and then waited as the person spoke on the other end. "Yes, this is Mrs. Squalor. Yes. Yes. Yes? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She hung up the phone and turned to the children. "Guess what?" she asked. "I have some fantastic news on what we were talking about!" "The Quagmires have been found?" Klaus asked hopefully. "Who?" Esme asked. "Oh, them. No, they haven't been found. Don't be silly. Jerome, children, listen to me--dark is out! Regular light is in!" "Well, I'm not sure I'd call that fantastic news," Jerome said, "but it will be a relief to get some light around this place. Come on, Baudelaires, help me open the shades and you can get a look at our view. You can see quite a bit from so high up." "I'll go turn on all the lamps in the penthouse," Esme said breathlessly. "Quickly, before anybody sees that this apartment is still dark!" Esme dashed from the room, while Jerome gave the three siblings a little shrug and walked across the room to the windows. The Baudelaires followed him, and helped him open the heavy shades that were covering the windows. Instantly, sunlight streamed into the room, making them squint as their eyes adjusted to regular light. If the Baudelaires had looked around the room now that it was properly illuminated, they would have seen just how fancy all the furniture was. The couches had pillows embroidered with silver. The chairs were all painted with gold paint. And the tables were made from wood chopped away from some of the most expensive trees in the world. But the Baudelaire orphans were not looking around the room, as luxurious as it was. They were looking out of the window onto the city below. "Spectacular view, don't you think?" Jerome asked them, and they nodded in agreement. It was as if they were looking out on a tiny, tiny city, with matchboxes instead of buildings and bookmarks instead of streets. They could see tiny colored shapes that looked like various insects but were really all the cars and carriages in town, driving along the bookmarks until they reached the matchboxes where the tiny dots of people lived and worked. The Baudelaires could see the neighborhood where they had lived with their parents, and the parts of town where their friends had lived, and in a faint blue strip far, far away, the beach where they had received the terrible news that had begun all their misfortune. "I knew you'd like it," Jerome said. "It's very expensive to live in a penthouse apartment, but I think it's worth it for a view like this. Look, those tiny round boxes over there are orange juice factories. That sort of purplish building next to the park is my favorite restaurant. Oh, and look straight down--they're already cutting down those awful trees that made our street so dark." "Of course they're cutting them down," Esme said, hurrying back into the room and blowing out a few candles that were sitting on the mantelpiece. "Regular light is in--as in as aqueous martinis, pinstripes, and orphans." Violet, Klaus, and Sunny looked straight down, and saw that Jerome was right. Those strange trees that had blocked out the sunlight