The Penultimate Peril - Snicket Lemony - Страница 31

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"I can see the headlines now!" she cried. "'everybody is innocent!' Wait until the readers of The Daily Punctilio see that!"

"Nobody is innocent," Justice Strauss said, banging her gavel. "At least, not yet. Now then, all those in the courtroom who have evidence they would like to submit to the court, please approach the judges and do so."

The room erupted into pandemonium, a word which here means "a crowd of blindfolded people attempting to give evidence to three judges." The Baudelaires sat on the bench and heard people stumbling over one another as they all tried to submit their research to the High Court.

"I submit these newspaper articles!" announced the voice of Geraldine Julienne.

"I submit these employment records!" announced Sir.

"I submit these environmental studies!" announced Charles.

"I submit these grade books!" announced Mr. Remora.

"I submit these blueprints of banks!" announced Mrs. Bass.

"I submit these administrative records!" announced Vice Principal Nero.

"I submit this paperwork!" announced Hal.

"I submit these financial records!" announced Mr. Poe.

"I submit these rule books!" announced Mr. Lesko.

"I submit these constitutions!" announced Mrs. Morrow.

"I submit these carnival posters!" announced Hugo.

"I submit these anatomical drawings!" announced Colette.

"I submit these books," announced Kevin, "with both my left and right hands!"

"I submit these ruby-encrusted blank pages!" announced Esme Squalor.

"I submit this book about how wonderful

I am!" announced Carmelita Spats.

"I submit this commonplace book!" announced either Frank or Ernest.

"So do I!" announced either Ernest or Frank.

"I submit my mother!"

This last voice was the first in a parade of voices the Baudelaires could not recognize. It seemed that everyone in the lobby had something to submit to the High Court, and the Baudelaires felt as if they were in the middle of an avalanche of observations, research, and other evidence, some of which sounded exculpatory-a word which here means "likely to prove that the Baudelaires were innocent"- and some of which sounded damning, a word which made the children shudder just to think of it.

"I submit these photographs!"

"I submit these hospital records!"

"I submit these magazine articles!"

"I submit these telegrams!"

'I submit these couplets!"

'I submit these maps!"

'I submit these cookbooks!"

'I submit these scraps of paper!"

'I submit these screenplays!"

'I submit these rhyming dictionaries!"

'I submit these love letters!"

'I submit these opera synopses!"

"I submit these thesauri!"

"I submit these marriage licenses!"

"I submit these Talmudic commentaries!"

"I submit these wills and testaments!"

"I submit these auction catalogs!"

"I submit these codebooks!"

"I submit these mycological encyclopedias!"

"I submit these menus!"

"I submit these ferry schedules!"

"I submit these theatrical programs!"

"I submit these business cards!"

"I submit these memos!"

"I submit these novels!"

"I submit these cookies!"

"I submit these assorted pieces of evidence I'm unwilling to categorize!"

Finally, the Baudelaires heard a mighty thump! and the triumphant voice of Jerome Squalor. "I submit this comprehensive history of injustice!" he announced, and the lobby filled with the sound of applause and of hissing, as the volunteers and villains reacted. Justice Strauss had to bang her gavel quite a few times before the crowd settled down.

"Before the High Court reviews this evidence," the judge said, "we ask each accused person to give a statement explaining their actions. You can take as long as you want to tell your story, but you should leave out nothing important. Count Olaf, you may go first."

The wooden bench crackled again as the villain stood up, and the Baudelaires heard Count Olaf sigh, and smelled his foul breath. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I'm so incredibly innocent that the word 'innocent' ought to be written on my face in capital letters. The letter I would stand for 'I'm innocent.' The letter N would stand for 'nothing wrong,' which is what I've done. The letter A would stand for-"

"That's not how you spell 'innocent,'" Justice Strauss interrupted.

"I don't think spelling counts," Count Olaf grumbled.

"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 phone, 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."

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