If you have reached this far in the story, you must stop now. If you take one step back and look at the book you are reading, you can see how little of this miserable story there is to go, but if you could know how much grief and woe are contained in these last few pages, you would take another step back, and then another, and keep stepping back until The Vile Village was just as small and distant as the approaching figure of Detective Dupin was as the Baudelaire orphans embraced their friends in relief and joy. The Baudelaire orphans, I'm sorry to say, could not stop now, and there is no way for me to travel backward in time and warn the Baudelaires that the relief and joy they were experiencing at Fowl Fountain were the last bits of relief and joy they would experience for a very long time. But I can warn you. You, unlike the Baudelaire orphans and the Quagmire triplets and me and my dear departed Beatrice, can stop this wretched story at this very moment, and see what happens at the end of The Littlest Elf instead.
"We can't stay here," Violet warned. "I don't mean to cut short this reunion, but it's already afternoon, and Detective Dupin is coming down that street."
The five children looked in the direction Violet was pointing, and could see the turquoise speck of Dupin's approaching blazer, and the tiny point of light his flaming torch made as he drew near the courtyard.
"Do you think he sees us?" Klaus asked.
"I don't know," Violet said, "but let's not stick around to find out. The V.F.D. mob will only get worse when they discover we've broken out of jail."
"Detective Dupin is the latest disguise of Count Olaf," Klaus explained to the Quagmires, "and — "
"We know all about Detective Dupin," Duncan said quickly, "and we know what's happened to you."
"We heard everything that happened yesterday, from inside the fountain," Isadora said. "When we heard you cleaning the fountain we tried to make as much noise as we could, but you couldn't hear us over the sound of all that water."
Duncan squeezed a whole puddle out of the soaked stitches of his left sweater sleeve. Then he reached under his shirt and brought out a dark green notebook. "We tried to keep our notebooks as dry as possible," he explained. "After all, there's crucial information in here."
"We have all the information about V.F.D.," Isadora said, taking out her notebook, which was pitch black. "The real V.F.D., that is not the Village of Fowl Devotees."
Duncan opened his notebook and blew on some of the damp pages. "And we know the complete story of poor Jac — "
Duncan was interrupted by a shriek behind him, and the five children turned to see two members of the Council of Elders staring at the hole in the uptown jail. Quickly, the Baudelaires and Quagmires ducked behind Fowl Fountain so they wouldn't be seen.
One of the Elders shrieked again, and removed his crow hat to dab at his brow with a tissue. "They've escaped!" he cried. "Rule #1,742 clearly states that no one is allowed to escape from jail. How dare they disobey this rule!"
"We should have expected this from a murderer and her two accomplices," the other Elder said. "And look — they've damaged Fowl Fountain. The beak is split wide open. Our beautiful fountain is ruined!"
"Those three orphans are the worst criminals in history," the first replied. "Look — there's Detective Dupin, walking down that street. Let's go tell him what's happened. Maybe he'll figure out where they've gone."
"You go tell Dupin," the second Elder said, "and I'll go call The Daily Punctilio. Maybe they'll put my name in the newspaper."
The two members of the Council hurried off to spread the news, and the children sighed in relief. "Cose," Sunny said.
"That was too close," Klaus replied. "Soon this whole district will be full of citizens hunting us down."
"Well, nobody's hunting us" Duncan said. "Isadora and I will walk in front of you, so you won't be spotted."
"But where can we go?" Isadora asked. "This vile village is in the middle of nowhere."
"I helped Hector finish his self-sustaining hot air mobile home," Violet said, "and he promised to have it waiting for us. All we have to do is make it to the outskirts of town, and we can escape."
"And live forever up in the air?" Klaus said frowning.
"Maybe it won't be forever," Violet replied.
"Scylla!" Sunny said, which meant "It's either the self-sustaining hot air mobile home or being burned at the stake!"
"When you say it like that," Klaus said, "I'm convinced."
Everyone agreed, and Violet looked around the courtyard to see if anyone else had arrived yet. "In a place as flat as this one," she said, "you can see people coming from far away, and we're going to use that to our advantage. We'll walk along any empty street we can find, and if we see anyone coming, we'll turn a corner. We won't be able to get there as the crow flies, but eventually we'll be able to reach Nevermore Tree."
"Speaking of the crows," Klaus said to the two triplets, "how did you manage to deliver those poems by crow? And how did you know that we would receive them?"
"Let's get moving," Isadora replied. "We'll tell you the whole story as we go along."
The five children got moving. With the Quagmire triplets in the lead, the group of youngsters peered down one street after another until they found one without a sign of anyone coming, and hurried out of the courtyard.
"Olaf smuggled us away in that item from the In Auction with the help of Esmé Squalor," Duncan began, referring to the last time the Baudelaires had seen him and his sister. "And he hid us for a while in the tower room of his terrible house."
Violet shuddered. "I haven't thought of that room in quite some time," she said. "It's hard to believe that we used to live with such a vile man."
Klaus pointed to the distant figure who was walking toward them, and the five children turned onto another empty street. "This street doesn't lead to Hector's house," he said, we'll try to double back. Go on, Duncan."
"Olaf learned that you three would be living with Hector at the outskirts of this town " Duncan continued, "and he had his associates build that hideous fountain."
"Then he placed us inside," Isadora said "and had us installed in the uptown courtyard so he could keep an eye on us while he tried to hunt you down. We knew that you were our only chance of escaping."
The children reached a corner and stopped, while Duncan peeked around it to make sure no one was approaching. He signaled that it was safe, and continued the story. "We needed to send you a message, but we were afraid it would fall into the wrong hands. Isadora had the idea of writing in couplets, with our location hidden in the first letter of each line."
"And Duncan figured out how to get them to Hector's house," Isadora said. "He'd done some research about migration patterns in large black birds, so he knew that the crows would roost every night in Nevermore Tree — right next to Hector's house. Every morning, I would write a couplet, and the two of us would reach up through the fountain's beak."
"There was always a crow roosting on the very top of the fountain," Duncan said, "so we would wrap the scrap of paper around its leg. The paper was all wet from the fountain, so it would stick easily."
"And Duncan's research was absolutely right. The paper dried off, and fell at night." Isadora recited.
"That was a risky plan," Violet said.
"No riskier than breaking out of jail, and putting your lives in danger to rescue us," Duncan said, and looked at the Baudelaires in gratitude. "You saved our lives — again."
"We wouldn't leave you behind," Klaus said. "We refused to entertain the notion."
Isadora smiled, and patted Klaus's hand. "Meanwhile," she said, "while we were trying to contact you, Olaf hatched a plan to steal your fortune — and get rid of an old enemy at the same time."
"You mean Jacques," Violet said. "When we saw him with the Council of Elders, he was trying to tell us something. Why does he have the same tattoo as Olaf? Who is he?"
"His full name," Duncan said, flipping through his notebook, "is Jacques Snicket."
"That sounds familiar," Violet said.
"I'm not surprised," Duncan said. "Jacques Snicket is the brother of a man who — "
"There they are!" a voice cried, and in an instant the children realized they had neglected to look in back of them, as well as in front of them and around each corner. About two blocks behind them was Mr. Lesko, leading a small group of torch-carrying citizens straight up the street. The day was getting later, and the torches left long, skinny shadows on the sidewalk as if the mob were being led by slithering black serpents, instead of a man in plaid pants. "There are the orphans!" Mr. Lesko cried triumphantly. "After them, citizens!"
"Who are those other two?" asked an Elder in the crowd.
"Who cares?" said Mrs. Morrow, and waved her torch. "They're probably more accomplices! Let's burn them at the stake, too!"
"Why not?" said another Elder. "We already have torches and kindling, and I don't have anything else to do right now."
Mr. Lesko stopped at a corner and called down a street the children couldn't see. "Hey, everyone!" he shouted. "They're over here!"
The five children had been staring at the group of citizens, too terrified to get moving again. Sunny was the first to recover. "Lililk!" she shouted, and began crawling down the street as fast as she could. She meant something like "Let's go! Don't look behind you! Let's just try to get to Hector and his self-sustaining hot air mobile home before the mob catches up with us and burns us at the stake!" but her companions didn't need any encouragement. Down the street they raced, paying no attention to the footsteps and shouts behind them, which seemed to be growing in number as more and more people heard the news that V.F.D.'s prisoners were escaping. The children ran down narrow alleys and wide main streets, across parks and bridges that were all covered in black feathers. Occasionally they had to retrace their steps, a phrase which here means "turn around and run the other way when they saw townspeople approaching," and often they had to duck into doorways or hide behind shrubbery while angry citizens ran by, as if the children were playing a game of hide-and-go-seek instead of running for their lives. The afternoon wore on, and the shadows on V.F.D.'s streets grew longer and longer, and still the sidewalks echoed with the sounds of the mob's cries and the windows of the buildings reflected the flames from the torches the townspeople were carrying. Finally, the five children reached the outskirts of town, and stared at the flat, bare landscape. The Baudelaires searched desperately for a sign of the handyman and his invention, but only the shapes of Hector's house, the barn, and Nevermore Tree were visible on the horizon.
"Where's Hector?" Isadora asked frantically.
"I don't know," Violet said. "He said he'd be at the barn, but I don't see him."
"Where can we go?" Duncan cried. "We can't hide anywhere around here. The citizens will spot us in a second."
"We're trapped," Klaus said, his voice hoarse with panic.
"Vireo!" Sunny cried, which meant "Let's run — or, in my case, crawl — as fast as we can!"
"We'll never run fast enough," Violet said, pointing behind them. "Look."
The youngsters turned around, and saw the entire Village of Fowl Devotees, marching together in a huge group. They had rounded the last corner and were now heading straight toward the five children, their footsteps as loud as a roll of thunder. But the youngsters did not feel as if it was thunder that was rolling toward them. As hundreds of fierce and angry citizens approached, it felt more like the rolling of an enormous root vegetable. It felt like a root vegetable that could crush all of the reptiles in Uncle Monty's collection in five seconds flat, or one that could soak up every drop of water of Lake Lachrymose in an instant. The approaching crowd felt like a root vegetable that made every tree in the Finite Forest look like a tiny twig, made the huge lasagna served at the Prufrock Preparatory School cafeteria look like a light snack, and made the skyscraper at 667 Dark Avenue look like a dollhouse made for midget children to play with, a root vegetable so tremendous in size that it would win every first-place ribbon in every starchy farm crop competition in every state and county fair in the entire world from now until the end of time. The march of the torch-wielding mob, eager to capture Violet and Klaus and Sunny and Duncan and Isadora and burn each one of them at the stake, felt like the largest potato the Baudelaire orphans and the Quagmire triplets had ever encountered.