“When Uncle Monty died,” Violet began, “my siblings and I were very sad, but we were also very suspicious.”

“We weren’t suspicious!” Klaus exclaimed.

“If someone is suspicious, it means they’re not sure! We were positive that Stephano killed him!”

“Nonsense!” Dr. Lucafont said. “As I explained to all of you, Montgomery Montgomery’s death was an accident. The Mamba du Mal escaped from its cage and bit him, and that’s all there is to it.”

“I beg your pardon,” Violet said, “but that is not all there is to it. Klaus read up on the Mamba du Mal, and found out how it kills its victims.”

Klaus walked over to the stack of books and opened the one on top. He had marked his place with a small piece of paper, so he found what he was looking for right away.

“‘The Mamba du Mal,’” he read out loud, “‘is one of the deadliest snakes in the hemisphere, noted for its strangulatory grip, used in conjunction with its deadly venom, giving all of its victims a tenebrous hue, which is ghastly to behold.’” He put the book down, and turned to Mr. Poe. “‘Strangulatory’ means—”

“We know what the words mean!” Stephano shouted.

“Then you must know,” Klaus said, “that the Mamba du Mal did not kill Uncle Monty. His body didn’t have a tenebrous hue. It was as pale as could be.”

“That’s true,” Mr. Poe said, “but it doesn’t necessarily indicate that Dr. Montgomery was murdered.”

“Yes,” Dr. Lucafont said. “Perhaps, just this once, the snake didn’t feel like bruising its victim.”

“It is more likely,” Violet said, “that Uncle Monty was killed with these items.” She held up the glass vial with the sealed rubber cap.

“This vial is labeled ‘Venom du Mal,’ and it’s obviously from Uncle Monty’s cabinet of venom samples.” She then held up the syringe with the sharp needle. “Stephano—Olaf—took this syringe and injected the venom into Uncle Monty. Then he poked an extra hole, so it would look like the snake had bitten him.”

“But I loved Dr. Montgomery,” Stephano said. “I would have had nothing to gain from his death.”

Sometimes, when someone tells a ridiculous lie, it is best to ignore it entirely. “When I turn eighteen, as we all know,” Violet continued, ignoring Stephano entirely, “I inherit the Baudelaire fortune, and Stephano intended to get that fortune for himself. It would be easier to do so if we were in a location that was more difficult to trace, such as Peru.”

Violet held up the small bunch of folded papers. “These are tickets for the Prospero, leaving Hazy Harbor for Peru at five o’clock today. That’s where Stephano was taking us when we happened to run into you, Mr. Poe.”

“But Uncle Monty tore up Stephano’s ticket to Peru,” Klaus said, looking confused.

“I saw him.”