"One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old situation."
This was a quote by P.G. Wodehouse. I am not positive what it means, but if I had to guess, it meant one of two things.
The first such thing is that everything in life will have happened before, such as you stubbing your toe. Unless you are several thousand years old, there is very little chance you are the first person to have stubbed your toe. (If you are in fact immortal, please contact me in regards to your secret.)
The second thing is similar, but opposite. It could also mean things are very rare and sparse, and yet in time of need, will guide you, akin to the belief in destiny. That no matter what the situation is, there will be the groundwork to have let it happen before. A cosmic game of 'what-if'.
Well, the first meaning of that phrase applys to the two sets of orphans, Baudelaires and Quagmires alike.
This was not the first time that the Baudelaires or the Quagmires were working together to put together a grand puzzle laid before them.
"Who's Dewey?" Violet asked, puzzled, a word here meaning 'as though she were trying to solve a puzzle of a black void, which will be quite hard to the identical look of all pieces'.
"Well, the hotel is organized by the Dewey Decimal System, so likely the guy that built this place." Klaus pointed out.
"Is there a Dewey Decimal number for mysteries?" Duncan asked, but Klaus frowned.
"I thought of that, it would be room 135. But there is no room 135."
There was a silence, but Isadora's eye suddenly lit up, in sync with her siblings.
"If we go to the elevator…" Quigley started.
"And try and press the buttons for 1, 3, and 5…" Duncan interjected.
"It might lead us somewhere." Isadora finished.
Violet and Klaus looked at their friends, then each other, then to the elevator. There was a small pause in Klaus's voice, before he spoke up.
" A mystery hidden underground… Hotel Denouement's true founder is found… ?" He recited, as though trying to give his first couplet a whirl. The words were drawn out and the pattern felt off, but it was a start, and it was mostly certain good for a first time.
Isadora blushed anlittle, hugging Klaus, before praising. The six walked to the elevator, Isadora and Klaus just a step or two behind, the poet giving feedback. Klaus stepped into the elevator blushing, but whether from embarassment or pride was still untold.
The three boys each pressed a button, the elevator lowering. Past the basement. Into a sub-basement. Into a sub-sub-basement.
Ding!
The six stepped out, into a cozy little room. There was two cents from the ceiling, and they opened onto a desk. The walls were cabinets, perfect for index cards. On the desk was a book with a fresh new binding and a hot cup of tea.
"This is fresh." Quigley noted absentmindedly, a word here meaning 'still amazed by the design of this comfy yet compact room'.
"Kit? Is that you?" A voice called out, a voice identical to that of Frank and Ernest.
Out came the manager, and the six children looked at him.
"Kit told me you all were clever."
"You're Dewey Denouement. You built the hotel." said Klaus, looking around the small room.
"Exactly. Come along with me." said Dewey, opening a door, leading into a vast underground path system.
Dewey closed the door as the six children stepped in, before briskly walking to the front.
"Everyone in the V.F.D. records their adventures, which goes to various safe places, before coming here. The last safe place." Said Dewey, making sharp turns in the winding paths — Isadora couldn't hide a gasp when she saw her family name, Quagmire , written on a sign, pointing elsewhere.
"I've collected documents from every single V.F.D. agent, banker, childcare worker, detective, emissary, food critic, gardener, home insurance agent, ice cream vendor, jungle explorer, karate black belt, linguist, movie director," the sub-librarian said, before pausing for a short breath, "night guard, operator, personal therapist, quilt knitter, reporter, spy, terrorist, underwater explorer, violinist, watch guard, x-ray specialist, young adult librarian, zookeeper, actor, herpetologist, lion tamer, mill worker, principal, financial advisor, doctor, fortune teller, librarian, sea captain, mycologist, hotel manager, inventor, researcher, chef, poet, writer and cartographer." Dewey said, his breath spent in a way that implies he was practicing that whole spiel.
"Can you repeat that?" Quigley joked, but Dewey smirked. "I'm joking."
Dewey opened a hatch, leading the six out, before following himself and letting the door close.
"Where's the library?" Klaus asked, confused. Here they stood, at the edge of the pond.
"You need to look below the surface." Dewey said cryptically, but the kids understood.
It's under the water…
"My life's work. My secret library." Dewey said, seemingly both proud and ashamed.
"Why are you telling us?" Isadora asked, confused. This was his life's work, and he just revealed it to six perfectly random strangers?
"After Thursday, me and Kit are leaving V.F.D. to raise our child. The secret library will need a new sub-librarian. Or six." Dewey said, leaving the sentence with an ambient tone, a phrase here meaning 'a clear implication of who he had in mind'.
"Violet Baudelaire. I've heard of the wonderful things you have built under pressure. Imagine what you could do with all the time and resources you would have."
"Klaus Baudelaire. I've heard that your researching skills are on par with that of the greatest V.F.D. has ever had. Put them to use. With the greatest library it has."
"Sunny Baudelaire. I've heard what a lovely chef you are. Never underestimate what a good meal can do for the world. Besides, someone will need to make food."
"Isadora Quagmire. I've heard your poems are some of the greatest of your generation, and greater than most of my generation. Learn, improve, here, in safety."
"Duncan Quagmire. I've heard of your researching ability, how you would make your mother proud. You could put the Daily Punctilo to shame, as well as other reports. Imagine what you could with all the reports and articles in the world."
"Quigley Quagmire. The first V.F.D. agent to specialize in cartography — a common trait, but never a major. You will achieve great things with the atlases and places you can use and visit."
"I want you six to take up my torch. In honor of Jacques, Lemony, Olivia, Beatrice and Bertand Baudelaire, James and Moxie Quagmire. Take this library, and guide it."
There was silence. Everyone was touched by the sub-librarian's words.
Isadora was the first to speak up. "We'll do it…"
Dewey smiled softly at them. "Thank you. For volunteering."
Sadly, all good things must end. And this is when this did.
Count Olaf emerged from the bushes. "How tearful. But huzzah! I searched the hotel for you orphans, which wasn't easy because it's very poorly organized, but you're in my clutches at last."
"It's not poorly organized. It's arranged like a library catalog." Klaus said.
"We're not in your clutches. We're standing at the edge of a pond." Quigley added on.
Olaf smirked. "That's what you think. I'm afraid the man next to you is one of my associates. Hand them over, Ernest."
Dewey smirked back. "Oh, I'm not Ernest."
Olaf frowned. "Well, then, hand them over, Frank. You might want to consider doing your hair different - so I can tell you apa-"
Dewey outright smiled. "I'm not Frank either."
Olaf frowned more. "Wait, what? You really are Dewey Denouement…"
Dewey let himself grin wide. "You're outnumbered, Olaf. This hotel is full of volunteers who arrived early, as noble people do, while your accomplices, being wicked, will arrive late."
"Of course we will." cried a familiar voice. Esme was here, how fun. "Being early is out. That's why they call it fashionably late ."
You likely have seen Part One of the Penultimate Peril on Netflix, but if not, it runs per par to the book. Esme and Carmelita arrive, Olaf and Carmelita argue about spitting and harpoon guns, Esme and Olaf break up, and we now bounce to after Olaf laughs, asking for the phrases to the V.F.D., doubting the words of Larry Your-Waiter.
"Even if you open it, you'll find nothing in the laundry room except laundry. The lock is a decoy." Dewey said, using truth to trick Olaf.
The count merely snorted. "I may have a handsome and youthful glow, but I wasn't born yesterday. I'll give you until the count of ten. One… Two…"
"If you want to shoot him, you'll have to shoot me!" Said Violet, standing in front of Dewey.
"I can live with that. Three!" Continued the count.
"You'll have to shoot me too." Both Klaus and Isadora said in sync, trying not to make it awkward.
"You're sweetening the pot lovebirds. Four!"
Dewey seemed shocked. "Baudelaires…"
Violet smiled. "If he shoots us, he'll never get the Baudelaire fortune."
Olaf laughes. "There's still the baby. Five!"
Duncan lifted Sunny at her demand, both standing front of Isadora. "You have a choice."
"You can choose not to pull that trigger." Quihley added.
"Yes, and you can choose death by harpoon. Six!" Olaf cried out in defiance.
"Seven!" He said slowly, as the six started walking towards him.
"Eight…" They were now right next to him. "Uh..nine..."
"You don't have to do this. Do something good for once." No one remembers who said it, but everyone wanted to.
"It's all I know how to…" Olaf whispered, his voice shaky, he let go off the harpoon gun and looked at Violet, Klaus, Sunny, Isadora, Duncan, and Quigley. "I'm sorry orphans.."
"What is going on here?!" Suddenly a voice from behind them called, and the orphans, startled, let go off the harpoon gun which crashed on the ground and went off.
You likely believe the arrow will now kill Dewey Denouement.
But that is not how the story goes.
The arrow just barely missing Dewey who had just moved an inch to see the source of the voice he had been ever so familiar with.
"Frank!"
"Ernest?" Cried the other manager, unsure of which triplet was taking.
"Dewey." He called back, and Frank made a quick move over.
"Put Count Olaf where he belongs, throw him into a broom closet until tomorrow's trial."
Frank smiled. "Gladly."
As Olaf was dragged away by Frank Denouement, Dewey looked at the six orphans.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow, your troubles come to an end. Sleep well, children, and think about my offer."
"One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old situation."
This was a quote by P.G. Wodehouse. It could mean things are very rare and sparse, and yet in time of need, will guide you, akin to the belief in destiny. That no matter what the situation is, there will be the groundwork to have let it happen before. A cosmic game of 'what-if'.
This cosmic game of what ifs end, when the six children go to sleep in their room once more, the world seems quiet. They might not have a peaceful trial tomorrow. But at least the world is quiet for now.
AN: Next is the trial. Here's to hoping. Also yes, this chapter is very similar to the show at times. Wanted to keep it somewhat canon. Also, yes, I'm implying that Mrs. Quagmire is Moxie Mallahan.