A/N: Thanks a million for the reviews! I hope this chapter keeps you reading! Happy Holidays!
Chapter the Second
"If you are also looking for the Baudelaires," Quigley said quietly after shaking her hand, "I would like to help. I knew Jacques Snicket, and any relative of his is one to trust."
Kit gave a sad smile and said nothing. She kissed her fingers and touched them on the top of Jacques's headstone and they walked away from the graveyard. Quigley saw she was heading towards a stopped trolley and he tried once again to brush the sand caked to his sweater as best he could before he climbed in. Kit chose a seat in the very front by the driver; Quigley followed.
The trolley bell rang and they started down the cobblestone road gently as passengers talked amongst themselves in the back. Quigley nearly exploded inside with questions as he sat beside Kit but he kept his mouth shut. She gave him a comforting smile and he felt suddenly embarrassed for running away from her. She seemed so professional and committed.
Finally he leaned in and spoke casually, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "How did you know to find me here? And Count Olaf, is he anywhere near the Baude---" Quigley whispered frantically and Kit let out a small laugh.
"There's no need to worry about keeping your questions out of earshot of the trolley conductor. He's a volunteer as well," Kit explained and the driver gave a little nod as he looked briefly back at Quigley. Quigley couldn't believe it. Here he was with actual V.F.D. members in everyday disguise… the people with all the answers.
Kit folded her gloved hands in her lap as she spoke, "For starters, this was the first stroke of luck I've had in a long while. I didn't expect to meet you so soon, although I did have high hopes.
"At first, I was actually searching for the Baudelaires. They have been in that sad excuse for a newspaper many times lately and I figured after reading that they were at Madame Lulu's carnival, they would venture up to the headquarters. After its destruction, I knew they would head back down. I went to the tributary of Stricken Stream hoping to find them and the sugar bowl. Instead I found you. I am guessing you've heard of it… the sugar bowl," Kit spoke slowly and Quigley nodded.
"As for the Baudelaires, I can only suppose that they are heading down the other branch of the stream. My only guess is with the crew of the Queequeg… Widdershins will be in the general area where the Baudelaires have washed up if he has been thinking in the same thought process as I. Perhaps he will have more luck with finding them and the sugar bowl."
Quigley looked out of the trolley. He was filled with a terrible sadness, trying to imagine Violet and Klaus floating downstream with little Sunny. Kit was only guessing where they would end up. They could be anywhere.
A thought struck him and he lit up. "Is that where we're going?" Quigley asked, "To the other tributary to find them? They must be there… I saw them before we were washed away."
"No. It would be useless to search the stream hours after you four were broken up," Kit answered and simply said, "You'll see."
He held his commonplace book close to his chest and turned to Kit humiliated. "I'm sorry for running off. I was scared you might have been associated with Count Olaf."
"I'm sorry I didn't come up to you right away," Kit apologized, "Before his death, Jacques told me all about you and what he taught you about the V.F.D. He said you were very clever and when I noticed you on the beach, I followed you to the café to be sure. You are very much like your parents and you look so very similar. I knew it had to be you."
Quigley looked down forlornly and tried to smile. He diverted his attention to her lap where Kit was drumming her fingers against the cover of the book he remembered her reading in the café. "What is the book for?"
Kit held it up and Quigley read the title:
The Walrus and the Carpenter, and Other Poems by Lewis Carroll"Poetry?" Quigley asked. Kit just simply nodded.
They rode in silence. Deep inside, Quigley still had so much to ask but he mind went blank with what he wanted to know. The trolley bumped slowly down the street and Quigley looked over to Kit. She always looked so sad.
"Ms. Snicket…?" Quigley asked awkwardly.
"You may call me Kit," she answered.
"Do you… w-where are my siblings? Duncan and Isadora…?" Quigley's voice trembled. He was scared for the answer but the look on Kit's face answered it plainly. The same answer he had received already:
"I apologize, Quigley, but their whereabouts are unknown."
The trolley slowed to a stop and Quigley looked around. He hadn't realized that they were the only ones on the trolley now and Kit stood up. "Follow me," she said directly.
She gave a final wave to the driver and Quigley stepped out. Immediately he covered his nose.
"Yes, it's horseradish. There's a factory over yonder. Don't ask why, it would be better if you didn't know." Kit explained and Quigley stared at it. He couldn't even begin to guess how a horseradish factory was connected with the V.F.D.
They walked for a long distance through a tall grass field. Kit led the way and Quigley hesitated behind. The ground gradually became soft and wet and he finally noticed a large swamp a little while off.
"Where are we?" Quigley asked.
"On the borders of Swarthy Swamp. We're not too far off from Lachrymose Lake," Kit answered.
They walked on. The wide, slimy marsh slowly grew as they became closer and lying halfway in the mire was a large shed, sagging dangerously to the side. The roof looked as if it was going to cave in any minute and the doors and windows were sealed shut. It was abandoned.
Kit stopped in front of it and Quigley looked skeptically around. "This will provide the answers to our questions?"
Kit opened the rotten, wood door. "You must never judge a book by its cover. Nor a structure by its exterior." Kit grinned and they stepped inside. Within seconds, Quigley was facing another door made of stainless steel. Around the door were spidery wires and a keyboard of a typewriter.
"This is a Vernacularly Fastened Door!" Quigley gasped as he looked around. Kit nodded and took out a small commonplace book, very much like Quigley's, out of her coat.
"This shed provides as a shell around the real V.F.D. quarters inside to create a false image to others. Jacques was the last member to use these quarters and reset the Door as well. The first phrase wants us to name the year Napoleon Bonaparte was defeated at the Battle of Waterloo."
Quigley thought a moment, "It must have been in the early 1800's, but I'm not exactly sure what year it was… the 1820's perhaps?"
Kit raised her eyebrows, "Close. 1815" She typed in 1-8-1-5 and soft click was heard.
"The next phrase wants the best literary term that describes Mark Twain's type of writing in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." Kit read and looked at Quigley for his answer.
"That's an easier one. Mark Twain satirized the American way-of-life of his time in his novel." Quigley answered and leaned in to type S-A-T-I-R-E. It gave another buzzing click, only louder.
"You're very well read," Kit smiled and she paused.
"What's the last phrase?" Quigley asked. Kit stared at her notebook and then back at Quigley.
"I don't think you realize how lucky we were to find each other. Luck has never been on my side, or at least the Snicket's side of the family. The reason we came here first is because you are the only one that can open this door," Kit began.
"I don't understand," Quigley said, "How can I only open up this door? Answers can be found in books and records."
"Yes, but not memories. Jacques purposefully reset the Door so only you could open it. He did this so someone of the V.F.D. would go looking for you after he left; he wanted you to be safe. He gave me the phrase questions to this Door so I could be that someone who would find you. Now you understand how lucky I am," Kit explained and gave Quigley her commonplace notebook.
Quigley read aloud from the last line on the page, "The last phrase asks us… who was the last man J quoted to newest volunteer, Q."
Kit studied Quigley as she waited and Quigley racked his memory. It seemed like years since he had seen Jacques for the very last time. His memories were fuzzy; nothing was coming. He knelt down on his knees with his hands over his eyes, hoping that blocking out his surroundings would help him remember.
"I…I don't--," Quigley stuttered and he struggled with his thoughts. It had been an extremely warm day… they were in Dr. Montgomery's library… He could see himself paging through numerous books, but where was Jacques? Think, think…
He looked up from his book, "Looking for something? I might be able to help." His own voice in his head sounded eager to participate.
A tall, slender man strode through the library and grabbed his coat off on of the chairs. "No, I've found it." It was Jacques. He was adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves.
"Quigley, something important has come up. I'm sorry, but I must leave for a time. I'm going to Paltryville for an interview. Hopefully this will solve my problems," Jacques looked up from setting his hat on his head and he checked his watch. "I shan't be long."
His footsteps were clicking on the hardwood floors and they disappeared out of the room. Quigley set his book aside and followed after him…
"…no, no that can't be it," Quigley spoke to himself and he looked up towards Kit, "There's more to it, I know it… but it seems so long ago. If I can't answer this…"
"…then the location of the Baudelaires will remain unknown," Kit answered somberly and Quigley closed his eyes again. The memory was coming back in bits and pieces…
"Let me come with you," he pleaded as Jacques opened the door, "I could help with what you are searching for." Jacques continued to walk.
"Please, let me come!" Quigley urged louder, "I must find what's rest of my family!" Jacques stopped.
"I can't let you. It's too dangerous, even this simple interview. But," Jacques laid a hand on his shoulder, "I understand. I know what it feels like to have family members ripped apart from you, whether they're dead or the law wants them dead. You must wait."
"No, I won't wait around any longer! Nothing has come out of all this studying. Duncan and Isadora are still alone at that school, I'm still waiting here as everyone else in the world thinks I'm dead, and now you're leaving with false hope of finding answers! What is to come from all of this waiting and reading and…?" Quigley stopped pathetically.
"What will come will come, I promise," Jacques said softly and he bent down to Quigley's face. "Yes. Things seem hopeless. Everyday without answers seems useless, I know. But in time, you will have the answers and your hard work will be rewarded, so stay and read. The world is quiet here, and that is a rare thing these days.
"Here," Jacques pulled out a dark purple notebook, "record what you find in here. Every member of the V.F.D. keeps one. Quote the great Emerson, 'Books are the best of things, well used; abused, among the worst'. They always have answers."
"Will you be back soon?" He asked.
"Soon enough," Jacques answered. He began to walk out the door but he paused, "Study when you can. The uppermost shelf has the most information. Remember, 'Make time now to change time later'." Jacques tipped his hat and closed the door.
The memory was fading but Quigley strained with his last effort to remember. Emerson was not the answer…
He had stood there with the notebook in his hands. He watched Jacques walk away through the window from Dr. Montgomery's yard and suddenly he reached for the window frame and pushed it up.
"Who said that?" Quigley called out. Jacques stopped in his tracks and turned around. "That quote… 'Make time now to change time later'. Who said it?" Quigley asked again.
Jacques smiled from under his hat. "He goes by J. Snicket." Then he was gone.
Quigley stood up and took a deep breath. He stood in front of the Vernacularly Fastened Door and typed in J-S-N-I-C-K-E-T. The door remained silent and then with a gratifying click, the Door swayed open. Kit smiled down at Quigley and they stepped inside cautiously.
"This," Kit said, looking the proudest she had been since he had met her, "is receiving room of the Volunteer Factual Dispatches. The key control room to all of the V.F.D.'s telegrams." Kit switched on a single light bulb. All around the room were both sending and receiving telegram devices. However, it was deadly quiet.
"What's wrong with the telegrams?" Quigley asked as he stepped in slowly.
"They were destroyed and this is why we had to stop here first. The V.F.D communicates the fastest through telegrams because if one is unsure of a certain member's whereabouts, they send it here, the main intercepting room, hoping that they will read it here. It's like a giant mailbox for the V.F.D.'s messages. The communicating wires have been ruined by Count Olaf's troupe, but with some readjusting, we can repair the telegrams back to their normal state."
Quigley strolled aimlessly throughout the metallic V.F.D. shed. He stuck his head behind a telegram and saw that its wires were cut and frayed.
"But how does this help us find the Baudelaires? They could be miles away from any telegram," Quigley pointed out and Kit gave a weary shrug.
"Let's just hope they aren't."
