“My, my, my, my, my,” said a voice from behind them, and the Baudelaire orphans turned to find Stephano standing there, the black suitcase with the shiny silver padlock in his hands and a look of brummagem surprise on his face. “Brummagem” is such a rare word for “fake” that even Klaus didn’t know what it meant, but the children did not have to be told that Stephano was pretending to be surprised. “What a terrible accident has happened here. Snakebite. Whoever discovers this will be most upset.”

“You—” Violet began to say, but her throat fluttered, as if the fact of Uncle Monty’s death were food that tasted terrible. “You—” she said again.

Stephano took no notice. “Of course, after they discover that Dr. Montgomery is dead, they’ll wonder what became of those repuls-ive orphans he had lying around the house. But they’ll be long gone. Speaking of which, it’s time to leave. The Prospero sails at five o’clock from Hazy Harbor and I’d like to be the first passenger aboard. That way I’ll have time for a bottle of wine before lunch.”

“How could you?” Klaus whispered hoarsely. He couldn’t take his eyes off Uncle Monty’s pale, pale face. “How could you do this? How could you murder him?”

“Why, Klaus, I’m surprised,” Stephano said, and walked over to Uncle Monty’s body. “A smarty-pants boy like you should be able to figure out that your chubby old uncle died from snakebite, not from murder. Look at those teeth marks. Look at his pale, pale face. Look at these staring eyes.”

“Stop it!” Violet said. “Don’t talk like that!”

“You’re right!” Stephano said. “There’s no time for chitchat! We have a ship to catch! Let’s move!”

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” Klaus said. His face was pinched with the effort of focusing on their predicament rather than going to pieces. “We will stay here until the police come.”

“And how do you suppose the police will know to come?” Stephano said.

“We will call them,” Klaus said, in what he hoped was a firm tone of voice, and began to walk toward the door.

Stephano dropped his suitcase, the shiny silver padlock making a clattering sound as it hit the marble floor. He took a few steps and blocked Klaus’s way, his eyes wide and red with fury. “I am so tired,” Stephano snarled, “of having to explain everything to you.

You’re supposed to be so very smart, and yet you always seem to forget about this!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the jagged knife. “This is my knife. It is very sharp and very eager to hurt you—almost as eager as I am. If you don’t do what I say, you will suffer bodily harm. Is that clear enough for you? Now, get in the damn jeep.”