A Series of Unfortunate Events Book 1 | Page 5

urban limits.” Klaus
thought this over for a minute as he swallowed a chewy bit of bean.
“But our parents never mentioned Count Olaf to us. Just how is he
related to us, exactly?” Mr.
Poe sighed and looked down at Sunny, who was biting a fork and listening
closely. “He is either a third cousin four times removed, or a fourth
cousin three times removed. He is not your closest relative on the
family tree, but he is the closest geographically. That's why-” “If
he lives in the city,” Violet said, “why didn't our parents ever invite him
over?” “Possibly
because he was very busy,” Mr. Poe said. “He's an actor by trade,
and often travels around the world with various theater

companies.”
“I
thought he was a count,” Klaus said. “He
is both a count and an actor,” Mr. Poe said. “Now, I don't mean to cut
short our dinner, but you children have to pack up your things, and I
have to return to the bank to do some more work. Like your new legal
guardian, I am very busy myself.” The
three Baudelaire children had many more questions for Mr. Poe, but
he had already stood up from the table, and with a slight wave of his
hand departed from the room. They heard him coughing
into his handkerchief and then the front door creaked shut as he
left the house. “Well,”
Mrs. Poe said, “you three had better start packing. Edgar, Albert,
please help me clear the table.” The
Baudelaire orphans went to the bedroom and glumly packed their few
belongings. Klaus looked distastefully at each ugly shirt Mrs. Poe had
bought for him as he folded them and put them into a small suitcase.
Violet looked around the cramped, smelly room in which they had
been living. And Sunny crawled around solemnly biting each of Edgar
and Albert's shoes, leaving small teeth marks in each one so she would
not be forgotten. From time to time, the Baudelaire children looked
at one another, but with their future such a mystery they could think
of nothing to say. At bedtime, they tossed and turned all night, scarcely
getting any sleep between the loud snoring of Edgar and Albert
and their own worried thoughts. Finally, Mr. Poe knocked on the door
and stuck his head into the bedroom. “Rise
and shine, Baudelaires,” he said. “It's time for you to go to Count Olaf's.”
Violet
looked around the crowded bedroom, and even though she didn't
like it, she felt very nervous about leaving. “Do we have to go right
this minute?” she asked. Mr.
Poe opened his mouth to speak, but had to cough a few times before
he began. “Yes you do. I'm dropping you off on my way to the bank,
so we need to leave as soon as possible. Please get out of bed and
get dressed,” he said briskly. The word “briskly” here means

“quickly,
so as to get the Baudelaire children to leave the house.” The
Baudelaire children left the house. Mr. Poe's automobile rumbled along
the cobble-stone streets of the city toward the neighborhood where
Count Olaf lived. They passed horse-drawn carriages and motorcycles
along Doldrum Drive. They passed the Fickle Fountain, an elaborately
carved monument that