Part 4 (1/2)

There may be a town in which lint in my pocket would count as a small fee, but I knew that Stain'd-by-the-Sea was not that town. I gave Prosper the sort of ”Thank you” that does not mean ”You have been very helpful” but means ”Please go away,” and he did. I walked back out of the Lost Arms and stood out on the street wondering what to do, when a car pulled around the corner and stopped right in front of me. It was the dented yellow taxi I had seen earlier. Up close its dents looked worse, with one of the doors so banged up I could scarcely read the words BELLEROPHON TAXI printed on the side. ”Please go away,” and he did. I walked back out of the Lost Arms and stood out on the street wondering what to do, when a car pulled around the corner and stopped right in front of me. It was the dented yellow taxi I had seen earlier. Up close its dents looked worse, with one of the doors so banged up I could scarcely read the words BELLEROPHON TAXI printed on the side.

”Need a taxi, friend?” asked the driver, and it took me a moment to see that he was a little younger than I was. He had a friendly smile and a small scab on his cheek, like someone had given him a hard poke, and he was wearing a blue cap too large for him with BELLEROPHON TAXI printed on it in less dented lettering.

”I'm afraid I don't have any money,” I said.

”Oh, that's OK,” the boy replied. ”With the way things are going in this town, we generally work just for tips.”

”Do they let you drive at your age?” I asked.

”We're subst.i.tuting for our father tonight,” he replied. ”He's sick.”

”We? Who's we we?”

The boy beckoned me over, and I leaned into the taxi and saw that he was sitting on a small pile of books to reach the steering wheel. Below him, crouched on the floor of the car, was a boy who looked a little younger, with his hands on the car's pedals. His smile was slightly wicked around the edges, as if he were the sort of person who occasionally poked his brother too hard.

”We is my brother and me,” he said in a very high voice. ”I'm Pecuchet Bellerophon, and he's my brother, Bouvard.” is my brother and me,” he said in a very high voice. ”I'm Pecuchet Bellerophon, and he's my brother, Bouvard.”

I told them my name and tried to p.r.o.nounce theirs. ”Nothing personal, but your names make my tongue tired. What do people call you?”

”They call me Pip,” said the brother holding the steering wheel, ”and him Squeak.”

”Because I work the brakes,” squeaked Squeak.

”Of course,” I said. ”Well, Pip and Squeak, I need to get to the lighthouse.”

”The Mallahan place?” Pip said. ”Sure, hop in.”

I looked at the books he was sitting on. They looked like they were from the library, and some of them were books I admired very much. ”Are you really sure you're old enough to drive?” I said.

”Are you old enough to go to the edge of town by yourself?” Pip replied. ”Come on, get in.”

I got in, and Squeak hit the gas. Pip steered the car expertly through the crumbly, half-deserted blocks of Stain'd-by-the-Sea. I spotted a grocery store, empty but open, and a department store with mannequins in the window that wanted to go home. The sun was beginning to set behind the tall tower in the shape of a pen. I tried to think about the statue of the Bombinating Beast, but my mind wandered, first to the caves I had seen, where frightened octopi were giving up their ink, and then to a bigger, deeper hole back in the city. I told myself to stop thinking about things I couldn't do anything about, and looked out the window as the taxi pa.s.sed the Sallis mansion and continued on up the hill. their ink, and then to a bigger, deeper hole back in the city. I told myself to stop thinking about things I couldn't do anything about, and looked out the window as the taxi pa.s.sed the Sallis mansion and continued on up the hill.

”Has your father ever driven Mrs. Sallis anyplace?” I asked.

”I don't think so,” Pip replied. ”When the Sallis family was in town, they had their own chauffeur.”

”Aren't they in town now?”

”If they are, n.o.body told us,” Squeak said from the floor of the car.

In a few minutes we had pa.s.sed the small white cottage, and Squeak brought the taxi to an expert stop in front of the lighthouse door. ”Do you want us to stick around and drive you back into town later?” Pip asked me.

”No, thanks,” I said.

”Well, I hope you know what you're doing, coming out here without a way to get back,” Pip said, and reached around to open my door. ”How about a tip?” coming out here without a way to get back,” Pip said, and reached around to open my door. ”How about a tip?”

”Here's a tip,” I said. ”Next time you're at the library, check out a book about a champion of the world.”

”By that author with all the chocolate?”

”Yes, but this one's even better. It has some very good chapters in it.”

”That's the kind of tip we can use,” Squeak said. ”Pip reads to me between fares.”

I shut the door behind me and gave the window of the cab a knock good-bye. Pip waved, and the taxi drove off. I waited until the sound of the engine had faded, and then stood for a moment looking up at the lighthouse. I hoped the same thing the two subst.i.tute drivers of Bellerophon Taxi hoped: that I knew what I was doing. I doubted it. I heard the eerie rustle of the wind through the seaweed of the Cl.u.s.terous Forest, far below me, and then in front of me the more ordinary sound of a door opening. far below me, and then in front of me the more ordinary sound of a door opening.

”Lemony Snicket,” said a voice.

I turned to look at the girl who had spoken. ”What's the news, Moxie?”

”You tell me,” she said. ”You're the one who showed up at my door.”

I squinted into the dim sky until I could see the faint, thick line of the hawser stretched out above me and angling down the hill. Why not, I thought, and turned back to Moxie Mallahan. ”I'd like to extend an invitation,” I said.

She gave me a small smile. ”Oh yes? For what?”

”For a burglary taking place this evening at your home,” I said, and walked through the door.

CHAPTER SIX

”That's a very kind invitation, Snicket,” Moxie said to me, ”but I'm not sure if it counts as a burglary if the item being stolen isn't treasured by its owner.” said to me, ”but I'm not sure if it counts as a burglary if the item being stolen isn't treasured by its owner.”

”What do you mean?” I asked her.

Moxie blinked at me under the brim of her hat. ”You know what I mean, Snicket. You're here to steal the Bombinating Beast, aren't you?”

”How did you know?”

Moxie walked to her typewriter, which sat in its usual spot on the stairway, with a sheet of paper still rolled into it. She scanned the paper to reread what she had typed earlier. ”A stranger knocked on my door,” she said, ”with an older woman who briefly pretended to be his wife. The stranger asked to see a particular item and was clearly surprised that I showed it to him. And here you are, talking about burglary. So?” in its usual spot on the stairway, with a sheet of paper still rolled into it. She scanned the paper to reread what she had typed earlier. ”A stranger knocked on my door,” she said, ”with an older woman who briefly pretended to be his wife. The stranger asked to see a particular item and was clearly surprised that I showed it to him. And here you are, talking about burglary. So?”

”You're a very good journalist,” I told her.

”Flattery bores me, Snicket. Are you here to steal the statue or not?”

”Yes,” I decided to say. ”Do you mind terribly?”

Her smile got quite a bit bigger. ”Not at all,” she said, and leaned against the open door of the lighthouse. She adjusted a k.n.o.b on her typewriter and then looked me straight in the eye. She wasn't taller than I was, but I still had to look up to meet her gaze, as I had been taught never to do. ”Lemony Snicket, I think it's time to tell me exactly what's going on.” time to tell me exactly what's going on.”

”Are you really writing this up for the newspaper?” I asked. ”I thought The Stain'd Lighthouse The Stain'd Lighthouse was out of business.” was out of business.”

”I'm staying in practice as a journalist,” she said. ”Then when I leave this town, I'll be ready to join a newspaper.”

”When your mother sends for you,” I said.

”Stop stalling, Snicket. What exactly is going on?”