"Hey you cakesniffers!" said a voice from the back of the cave, and the sound was almost enough to make the two Baudelaires wish they had taken their chances someplace else.
Chapter Three
You may well wonder why there is no account of Sunny Baudelaire in the first two chapters of this book, but there are several reasons why this is so. For one thing, Sunny's journey in Count Olaf's car was much more difficult to research. The tracks made by the tires of the car have vanished long ago, and so many blizzards and avalanches have occurred in the Mortmain Mountains that even the road itself has largely disappeared. The few witnesses to Olaf's journey have mostly died under mysterious circumstances, or were too frightened to answer the letters, telegrams, and greeting cards I sent them requesting an interview. And even the litter that was thrown out the window of Olaf's car the clearest sign that evil people have driven by was picked up off the road long before my work began. The missing litter is a good sign, as it indicates that certain animals of the Mortmain Mountains have returned to their posts and are rebuilding their nests, but it has made it very hard for me to write a complete account of Sunny's travels.
But if you are interested in knowing how Sunny Baudelaire spent her time while her siblings stopped the caravan, followed the path of the Stricken Stream, and struggled against the snow gnats, there is another story you might read that describes more or less the same situation. The story concerns a person named Cinderella. Cinderella was a young person who was placed in the care of various wicked people who teased her and forced her to do all the chores. Eventually Cinderella was rescued by her fairy godmother, who magically created a special outfit for Cinderella to wear to a ball where she met a handsome prince, married him soon afterward, and lived happily ever after in a castle. If you substitute the name "Cinderella" with the name "Sunny Baudelaire," and eliminate the fairy godmother, the special outfit, the ball, the handsome prince, the marriage, and living happily ever after in a castle, you will have a clear idea of Sunny's predicament.
"I wish the baby orphan would stop that irritating crying," Count Olaf said, wrinkling his one eyebrow as the car made another violent turn. "Nothing spoils a nice car trip like a whiny kidnapping victim."
"I'm pinching her as often as I can," Esm Squalor said, and gave Sunny another pinch with her stylish fingernails, "but she still won't shut up."
"Listen, toothy," Olaf said, taking his eyes off the road to glare at Sunny. "If you don't stop crying, I'll give you something to cry about."
Sunny gave a little whimper of annoyance, and wiped her eyes with her tiny hands. It was true that she had been crying for most of the day, thoroughout a long drive that even the most dedicated of researchers would be unable to trace, and now as the sun set, she still had not been able to stop herself. But at Count Olaf's words, she was almost more irritated than frightened. It is always tedious when someone says that if you don't stop crying, they will give you something to cry about, because if you are crying than you already have something to cry about, and so there is no reason for them to give you anything additional to cry about, thank you very much. Sunny Baudelaire certainly felt she had sufficient reason to weep. She was worried about her siblings, and wondered how they were going to stop the runaway caravan from hurtling them to their doom. She was frightened for herself, now that Count Olaf had discovered her disguise, torn off her beard, and trapped her on Esm's lap. And she was in pain, from the constant pinching of the villain's girlfriend. "No pinch," she said to Esm, but the wicked and stylish woman just frowned as if Sunny had spoken nonsense.
"When she's not crying," Esm said, "the baby talks in some foreign language. I can't understand a thing she's saying."
"Kidnapped children are never any fun," said the hook-handed man, who was perhaps Sunny's least favorite of Olaf's troupe. "Remember when we had the Quagmires in our clutches, boss? They did nothing but complain. They complained when we put them in a cage. They complained when we trapped them inside a fountain. Complain, complain, complain I was so sick of them I was almost glad when they escaped from our clutches."
"Glad?" Count Olaf said with a snarl. "We worked hard to steal the Quagmire fortune, and we didn't get a single sapphire. That was a real waste of time."
"Don't blame yourself, Olaf," said one of the white-faced women from the back seat. "Everybody makes mistakes."
"Not this time," Olaf said. "With the two orphans squashed someplace underneath a crashed caravan and the baby orphan on your lap, the Baudelaire fortune is mine. And once we reach the Valley of Four Drafts and find the headquarters, all our worries will be over."
"Why?" asked Hugo, the hunchbacked man who had previously been employed at the carnival.
"Yes, please explain," said Kevin, another former carnival worker. At Caligari Carnival, Kevin had been embarrassed to be ambidextrous, but Esm had lured him into joining Olaf's troupe by tying Kevin's right hand behind his back, so no one would know it was as strong as his left. "Remember, boss, we're new to the troupe, so we don't always know what's going on."
"I remember when I first joined Olaf's troupe," the other white-faced woman said. "I'd never even heard of the Snicket file."
"Working for me is a hands-on learning experience," Olaf said. "You can't rely on me to explain everything to you. I'm a very busy man."
"I'll explain it, boss," said the hook-handed man. "Count Olaf, like any good businessman, has committed a wide variety of crimes."
"But these stupid volunteers have gathered all sorts of evidence and filed it away," Esm said. "I tried to explain that crime is very in right now, but apparently they weren't interested."
Sunny wiped another tear from her eye and sighed. The youngest Baudelaire thought she'd almost rather be pinched again than hear any more of Esm Squalor's nonsense about what was in the word that Esm used for "fashionable" and what was out.
"We need to destroy those files, or Count Olaf could be arrested," the hook-handed man said. "We have reason to believe that some of the files are at V.F.D. headquarters."
"What does V.F.D. stand for?" The voice of Colette came from the floor of the automobile.
Count Olaf had ordered her to use her skills as a carnival contortionist to curl up at the feet of the other members of the troupe.
"That's top-secret information!" Olaf growled, to Sunny's disappointment. "I used to be a member of the organization myself, but I found it was more fun to be an individual practitioner."
"What does that mean?" asked the hook-handed man.
"It means a life of crime," Esm replied. "It's very in right now."
"Wrong def." Sunny could not help speaking through her tears. By "wrong def she meant something along the lines of, "An individual practitioner means someone who works alone, instead of with a group, and it has nothing to do with a life of crime," and it made her sad that there was no one around who could understand her.
"There you go, babbling away," Esm said. "This is why I never want to have children.
Except as servants, of course."
"This journey is easier than I thought," Olaf said. "The map says we just have to pass a few more caves."
"Is there an in hotel near the headquarters?" Esm asked.