Free A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Penultimate Peril by Lemony Snicket

for a pair of binoculars. J. S. said they might be arriving by submarine, so I could watch for a periscope rising from the sea." "I wish our room had a view of the pond instead," Sir said. "When I'm done with a cigar, I like to drop the butt into a calm body of water and watch the pretty ripples." "I'm not sure that would be good for the pond," Charles said. "What do I care about the pond?" Sir demanded. "I have better things to do than worry about the environment. The Finite Forest is running low on trees, so business is bad for the lumbermill. The last big order we had was for building that horseradish factory, and that was a very long time ago. I'm hoping Thursday's cocktail party will be an excellent opportunity to do some business. After all, if it weren't for my lumber, this hotel wouldn't even exist!" "I remember," Charles said. "We had to deliver the lumber in the middle of the night.  Sir, you told me you never heard from that organization again." "I didn't," Sir said, "until now. You're not the only one who gets notes from this fellow J. S. I'm invited to a party he's hosting on Thursday night, and he said I should bring all my valuables. That must mean plenty of rich people will be there, rich people who might want to buy some lumber." "Perhaps if the lumbermill becomes more successful," Charles said, "we could pay our employees with money, instead of just gum and coupons." "Don't be an idiot!" Sir said. "Gum and coupons is a fair deal! If you spent less time reading and more time thinking about lumber, you'd care more about money and less about people!" "There's nothing wrong with caring about people," Charles said quietly. "I care about you, Sir. And I care about the Baudelaires. If what J. S. wrote is true, then their parents..." "Excuse me." The door of the sauna swung open, and Klaus saw a tall, dim figure step into the steam. "Is that my concertina?" Sir barked. "I told you to wait outside!" "No, I'm one of the managers of the hotel," said either Frank or Ernest. "We do have a concertina available in Room 786, if you're interested in musical instruments. I'm sorry to interrupt your afternoon, but I'm afraid I must ask all guests to vacate the sauna. A situation has arisen that requires the use of this room. If you are interested in steam, there's quite a bit of it in Room..." "I don't care about steam!" cried Sir. "I just like smelling hot wood! Where else can I smell hot wood, except in the sauna?" "Room 547 is dedicated to organic chemistry," replied the manager. "There are all sorts of smelly things there." Klaus quickly opened the sauna door and pretended to walk inside. "I'd be happy to take our guests to Room 547," he said, hoping to observe the rest of Sir and Charles's conversation. "No, no," the manager said. "You're needed here, concierge. By a strange coincidence there happens to be a chemist standing in the hallway who would be happy to escort these two gentlemen." "Oh, all right!" Sir said, and stomped out of the sauna, where a figure stood in a long, white coat and a mask such as surgeons or chemists wear over their noses and mouths. Sir reached down and picked up his cigar from the ornamental vase, restoring the cloud of smoke to his face just as the cloud of steam evaporated, and without another word he and his partner followed the chemist away from the sauna, leaving Klaus alone with the volunteer or villain. "Be very careful with this," said either Frank or Ernest, handing a large, rigid object to Klaus. It was something flat and wide, rolled into a thick tube like a sleeping bag. "When it's unrolled, the surface is very sticky, so sticky that anything it touches becomes trapped. Do you know what this is called?" "Flypaper," Klaus said, remembering a book he had read about the adventures of an exterminator. "Is the hotel having an insect problem?" "Our problem is not with insects," the manager said. "It's with birds. This is birdpaper. I need you to attach one end to the