Lemony Snicket - The Carnivorous Carnival

"Maybe we could call the police from that phone booth," Klaus said.

"Dragnet!" Sunny said, which meant "But the police think we're murderers!"

"I suppose we could try to reach Mr. Poe," Violet said. "He didn't answer the telegram we sent him asking for help, but maybe we'll have better luck on the phone."

The three siblings looked at one another without much hope. Mr. Poe was the Vice President of Orphan Affairs at Mulctuary Money Management, a large bank in the city, and part of his job was overseeing the Baudelaires' affairs after the fire. Mr. Poe was not a wicked person, but he had mistakenly placed them in the company of so much wickedness that he had been almost as wicked as an actual wicked person, and the children were not particularly eager to contact him again, even if it was all they could think of.

"It's probably a slim chance that he'll be of any help," Violet admitted, "but what have we got to lose?"

"Let's not think about that," Klaus replied, and walked over to the phone booth. "Maybe Mr. Poe will at least allow us to explain ourselves."

"Veriz," Sunny said, which meant something like, "We'll need money to make a phone call."

"I don't have any," Klaus said, reaching into his pockets. "Do you have any money, Violet?"

Violet shook her head. "Let's call the operator and see if there's some way we can place a call without paying for it."

Klaus nodded, and opened the door of the booth so he and his sisters could crowd inside. Violet lifted the receiver and dialed O for operator, while Klaus lifted up Sunny so all three siblings could hear the conversation.

"Operator," said the operator.

"Good evening," Violet said. "My siblings and I would like to place a call."

"Please deposit the proper amount of money," the operator said.

"We don't have the proper amount of money," Violet said. "We don't have any money at all. But this is an emergency."

There was a faint wheezing noise from the phone, and the Baudelaires realized that the operator was sighing. "What is the exact nature of your emergency?"

Violet looked down at her siblings and saw the last of the sunset's blue light reflecting off Klaus's glasses and Sunny's teeth. As the dark closed around them, the nature of their emergency seemed so enormous that it would take the rest of the night to explain it to the telephone operator, and the eldest Baudelaire tried to figure out how she could summarize, a word which here means "tell their story in a way that would convince the operator to let them talk to Mr. Poe."

"Well," she began, "my name is Violet Baudelaire, and I'm here with my brother, Klaus, and my sister, Sunny. Our names might sound a bit familiar to you, because The Daily Punctilio has recently published an article saying that we're Veronica, Klyde, and Susie Baudelaire, and that we're murderers who killed Count Omar. But Count Omar is really Count Olaf, and he's not really dead. He faked his death by killing another person with the same tattoo, and framed us for the murder. Recently he destroyed a hospital while trying to capture us, but we managed to hide in the trunk of his car as he drove off with his comrades. Now we've gotten out of the trunk, and we're trying to reach Mr. Poe so he can help us get ahold of the Snicket file, which we think might explain what the initials V.F.D. stand for, and if one of our parents survived the fire after all. I know it's a very complicated story, and it may seem unbelievable to you, but we're all by ourselves in the hinterlands and we don't know what else to do." The story was so terrible that Violet had cried a little while telling it, and she brushed a tear from her eye as she waited for a reply from the operator. But no voice came out of the phone.

The three Baudelaires listened carefully, but all they could hear was the empty and distant sound of a telephone line.

"Hello?" Violet said finally.

The telephone said nothing.

"Hello?" Violet said again. "Hello? Hello?"

The telephone did not answer.

"Hello?" Violet said, as loud as she dared.

"I think we'd better hang up," Klaus said gently.

"But why isn't anyone answering?" Violet cried.

"I don't know," Klaus said, "but I don't think the operator will help us."

Violet hung up the phone and opened the door of the booth. Now that the sun was down the air was getting colder, and she shivered in the evening breeze. "Who will help us?" she asked. "Who will take care of us?"

"We'll have to take care of ourselves," Klaus said.

"Ephrai," Sunny said, which meant "But we're in real trouble now."

"We sure are," Violet agreed. "We're in the middle of nowhere, with no place to hide, and the whole world thinks we're criminals. How do criminals take care of themselves out in the hinterlands?"

The Baudelaires heard a burst of laughter, as if in reply. The laughter was quite faint, but in the still of the evening it made the children jump. Sunny pointed, and the children could see a light in one of the windows in Madame Lulu's caravan. Several shadows moved across the window, and the children could tell that Count Olaf and his troupe were inside, chatting and laughing while the Baudelaire orphans shivered outside in the gloom.

"Let's go see," Klaus said. "Let's go find out how criminals take care of themselves."

Eavesdropping–a word which here means "listening in on interesting conversations you are not invited to join"–is a valuable thing to do, and it is often an enjoyable thing to do, but it is not a polite thing to do, and like most impolite things, you are bound to get into trouble if you get caught doing it. The Baudelaire orphans, of course, had plenty of experience not getting caught, so the three children knew how to walk as quietly as possible across the grounds of Caligari Carnival, and how to crouch as invisibly as possible outside the window of Madame Lulu's caravan. If you had been there that eerie blue evening–and nothing in my research indicates that you were–you wouldn't have heard even the slightest rustle from the Baudelaires as they eavesdropped on their enemies.

Count Olaf and his troupe, however, were making plenty of noise. "Madame Lulu!" Count Olaf was roaring as the children pressed up against the side of the caravan so that they would be hidden in the shadows. "Madame Lulu, pour us some wine! Arson and escaping from the authorities always makes me very thirsty!"

"I'd prefer buttermilk, served in a paper carton," Esmé said. "That's the new in beverage."

"Five glasses of wine and a carton of buttermilk coming up, please," answered a woman in an accent the children recognized. Not so long ago, when Esmé Squalor had been the Baudelaires' caretaker, Olaf had disguised himself as a person who did not speak English well, and as part of his disguise, he had spoken in an accent very similar to the one they were hearing now. The Baudelaires tried to peer through the window and catch a glimpse of the fortuneteller, but Madame Lulu had shut her curtains tightly. "I'm thrilled, please, to see you, my Olaf. Welcome to the caravan of mine. How is life for you?"

"We've been swamped at work," the hook-handed man said, using a phrase which here means "chasing after innocent children for quite some time." "Those three orphans have been very difficult to capture."

"Do not worry of the children, please," Madame Lulu replied. "My crystal ball tells me that my Olaf will prevail."

"If that means 'murder innocent children,'" one of the white-faced women said, "then that's the best news we've heard all day."

"'Prevail' means 'win,'" Olaf said, "but in my case that's the same thing as killing those Baudelaires. Exactly when does the crystal ball say I will prevail, Lulu?"

"Very soon, please," Madame Lulu replied. "What gifts have you brought me from your traveling, my Olaf?"