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thequagmirenotebooks · 7 years

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The Beleaguered Bank - Chapter Two

The expression “to be unable to get a word in edgewise” is a very useful one, and one of the few expressions that can still be understood if you take it literally. Unlike the expression “to let the cat out of the bag,” which means to let a secret slip but sounds as though you have just finished smuggling a cat through a particularly lax security checkpoint, “to be unable to get a word in edgewise” means that someone else is talking so much that you cannot find any space to interrupt them. Because words are, at most, two-dimensional, being written on paper or typed in ink, turning them edgewise would result in a very, very thin object, and a person would need to be talking a great deal for there to be no space in the conversation for the edge of a word.

As Mr. Hume led the Baudelaires upstairs, explaining what their lives would be like during their stay at the bank, none of the children could get a word in edgewise.

“I would like to give you three a relaxing place to live, but I may need your help around the bank every so often. As you can observe, we are shorthanded around here. When I first received a message that we were on the verge of losing our charter again, I didn’t believe it, of course, but the evidence has since become clear to me, and I’m sure to you children. I have been working here the longest, so I will not be laid off until our charter expires completely, but being the only remaining employee of the Twelfth First Bank of the City, it has been difficult to keep the entire bank running. When you are not helping me run the bank, though, you may do whatever you wish. I believe the bank is the safest place for you, because I can only keep an eye on you while you are inside, but if you really must go out into the city, let me know about it first so I can accompany you after banking hours. I don’t like leaving the bank very often, you see. I live in one of the rooms above the bank. You children are very lucky, by the way, because there will be several rooms available for you to choose from, so you may stay wherever you like best.”

The Baudelaires exchanged skeptical looks. They did not think of themselves as very lucky, or even remotely lucky, and the availability of rooms for them to choose from was not sufficient to change their terrible, terrible luck. If, on the other hand, Mr. Hume had told them they were very lucky because Count Olaf had been captured and put in prison forever, then they would be more inclined to believe him.

“And by the way, Mr. Poe has described your troubles with previous guardians to me. I must say, I would have a very hard time believing any of it if I hadn’t been following your story in The Daily Punctilio. But let me assure you, there is no need to worry about that dreadful man or his accomplices infiltrating this bank in disguise. Because I am the only employee of this bank, nobody but you three children and I has any reason to be inside at any point. Unless any intruders present me with evidence as to their identity, I will be forced to continue believing they are Count Olaf and his accomplices.”

“Mr. Hume,” Violet interjected, finally finding space to get a few words in edgewise, “what if Count Olaf shows up in disguise and gives you false evidence about his identity? Plenty of evidence can be faked or stolen.”

Mr. Hume turned around and smiled at the children. His very round face, with its very round cheeks, got even rounder when he smiled. “Well of course, you children know him better than I do, so I will certainly take your word as evidence, too.”

That answer, far more than the opportunity to choose from a variety of rooms, made the Baudelaires feel as though they might be rather lucky after all.

As Mr. Hume showed the children the tellers’ rooms above the bank, leading them up and down the little flights of stairs that led to each room, it became clear that, while they could choose any rooms they pleased, the choice hardly mattered - they were all exactly identical. Each room was located above one of the turrets in the points of the crown, and they all had one round, jewel-colored window, two skinny beds, two old desks, and four yellow stone walls. Even Mr. Hume’s room looked exactly the same, with the notable exception of the large pile of books.

At this point, it is necessary to discuss the concept of hyperbole. When an author, a poet, a journalist, a comedian, or an unusually precocious and cranky child uses hyperbole, they exaggerate the situation to the point where their description is humorous and no longer accurate. For example, if you dropped your ice cream cone and said, “This is the worst thing that has ever happened to anybody in the history of the entire world,” this would be hyperbole, because even if dropping your ice cream cone is the worst thing that has ever happened to you, other people have experienced devastating fires and salads made entirely of cilantro, both of which are much worse things. If, on the other hand, you were kidnapped by your enemies and presented with a cilantro salad and you said, “This is a little bit bad,” you would be under-exaggerating, a word which here means “the complete opposite of hyperbole.” When I write that Mr. Hume’s room contained a large pile of books, the words “large pile” represent an under-exaggeration, and you may find it helpful, when you come to these words, to put this book down and never pick it up again, so as to avoid the misery contained in the following chapters. However, if you persist in reading, you may also find it helpful to replace the words “large pile” with the words “towering mountain,” so as to correct this under-exaggeration.

In order to contain the large pile of books in his room, Mr. Hume had pushed both of the old desks together. Even so, the large pile was so heavy that the legs of the desks bent slightly under its weight. The large pile was stacked all the way to the ceiling, and even if the Baudelaires stood on tiptoe, they couldn’t see the titles of the books at the top. As they stood in awe of the large pile, several books on the edge of it slipped off and cascaded to the floor, where they joined a smaller, but still very large, pile of books.

“Ah, yes, my library,” Mr. Hume said, waving his hand at the large pile of books. “Or, well, I call it a library, although I have no shelving units or organizational system to speak of, and you children ought not to believe this is a proper library when there is evidence to the contrary right in front of you. Still, it is a lot of books on philosophy and epistemology, and you are welcome to read any of them at any time, provided I do not need your help in the bank while you are reading them.”

Not wanting to wait any longer to ask about the definition of an unfamiliar word, Klaus found space to get a word in edgewise. “Epistemology? What is that? I know anything with ‘ology’ at the end means ‘the study of,’ but-”

“Knowledge!” Mr. Hume crowed, apparently tired of letting Klaus get words in edgewise. “Which, I’m told, is power, although I don’t believe it myself. A great many people without any knowledge at all hold too much power these days, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Farfu,” Sunny said, and her siblings agreed with her. She meant to say, “Mr. Hume is right - Count Olaf has never read a book in his life, but he always seems to have power over us.”

As if he had not even heard Sunny, Mr. Hume continued talking. “I believe that concludes our tour, children, given that I have run out of rooms to show you. While my role as your guardian is only temporary, I hope you will enjoy your stay here. If nothing else, I believe you will be perfectly safe in my care. Now, it is getting late. Why don’t you take a few books and go choose your rooms? You can begin helping me in the bank tomorrow morning. Good night, Baudelaires.”

Mr. Hume shook their hands again - first Violet, then Klaus, then Sunny - as though they were meeting for the first time. Then, once Violet and Klaus had each chosen a book from the large pile, he shooed them out of his room and down the short flight of stairs back into the round hallway of the bank.

“We can hardly get a word in edgewise when he talks,” Klaus said once he was sure he and his siblings were out of earshot, a phrase which here means “far enough away from Mr. Hume’s room that they could talk about him without him overhearing them.” Generally, it is very impolite to talk about someone when you are out of earshot, but if you and your siblings were recently orphaned and are making sure your new guardian is suitable, impoliteness is easy to overlook.

“I know,” Violet said. “But at least he’s skeptical of everything if he doesn’t have evidence. Maybe he’ll see right through Count Olaf’s disguise if he shows up to try and steal our fortune.”

“Maybe Count Olaf won’t show up at all,” Klaus said.

“Aporia,” Sunny grumbled, and Violet and Klaus knew she meant something like “yeah, right, and maybe I don’t have teeth.”

“Sunny’s right,” Klaus said. “Count Olaf always shows up.”

“We can’t worry about that right now,” Violet said. She was not exactly telling the truth. The Baudelaires found it very easy to worry about Count Olaf at any time, because it seemed as though he could show up at any time. However, as the eldest of the three Baudelaires, Violet felt a duty to take care of her siblings, and she didn’t want them to worry about Count Olaf prematurely, a word which here means “before he showed up in a bizarre disguise to try to steal their fortune.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Klaus said. “We should go choose a room so we can do some reading before bed. I’m excited to learn about the study of knowledge.”

Although there were enough rooms for each Baudelaire to have their own, the children knew without saying it aloud that they would all prefer not to be alone.

“Roho?” Sunny asked.

Violet smiled. “I liked the room with the red window best, too.”

The children made their way around the hallway of the bank, searching for the stairs leading up to the room with the red window. When they finally found the appropriate stairs, Klaus made sure to note that they were across from a slot labeled Horticulturists’ Fees and a door labeled Safe Deposit Safe, so they would have an easier time finding their room again.

Before the fire that had claimed both the Baudelaire mansion and the Baudelaire parents, the children often passed their evenings reading together. Sometimes they would be in the library, although other times they would all sit together in the kitchen or Violet’s bedroom. Klaus and Violet would take turns reading to Sunny, or the three of them would discuss a difficult passage from a book, or they would spend the entire evening in companionable silence, reading and biting whatever they pleased. Some nights, their parents would join them, bringing their own books, and the entire Baudelaire family would enjoy a very pleasant evening enjoying the company of both books and each other.

Although the room with the red window was just like all the other rooms above the Twelfth First Bank of the City, when the Baudelaires climbed into bed and opened the books they had borrowed from Mr. Hume, it felt a little bit more like theirs. Violet and Klaus read quietly, and Sunny chewed contemplatively on the wooden headboard of the bed, which was pleasantly firm beneath her four sharp teeth, until the last evening light had faded and they had to turn on a lamp.

“Violet? Sunny?” Klaus said. “Did you know that King James VI of Scotland wrote about a character named Epistemon to discuss theories of knowledge?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Violet said. “That’s very interesting.”

“I thought so too.” Klaus paused. “Violet? Sunny? Mr. Hume said he believes we’ll be perfectly safe in his care. Do you think that’s true?”

Sunny stopped biting the headboard. “Nusa,” she said, which meant something like “I’m not sure, but he hardly believes anything, so there may be a good chance that he’s right.”

“Sunny’s right,” Violet said. “Mr. Hume doesn’t believe anything without evidence. If he believes he can keep us safe, he must be right. Even if he is only a temporary guardian, I’m sure we’ll be safe here.”

When she said this, Violet was again not exactly telling the truth. She wanted to keep her siblings from worrying prematurely, so she said “I’m sure we’ll be safe here.” However, if her siblings could have translated her words like they often did Sunny’s, what they would have heard was “Mr. Hume believes we’ll be perfectly safe here. But judging by our past guardians, he doesn’t have any evidence.”

#the beleaguered bank #fic #asoue #a series of unfortunate events

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