Shouldn't You Be in School?. Lemony Snicket

      

      ALL THE WRONG QUESTIONS

      “Who Could That Be at This Hour? ”

      “When Did You See Her Last? ”

      “Shouldn’t You Be in School? ”

      ADDITIONAL REPORTS

       File Under: 13 Suspicious Incidents

      Shouldn’t You Be in School? First published in Great Britain 2014 by Egmont UK Limited The Yellow Building 1 Nicholas Road London W11 4AN

      Text copyright © 2014 Lemony Snicket

       Art copyright © 2014 Seth

      ALL THE WRONG QUESTIONS: Shouldn’t You Be in School?

       by Lemony Snicket reprinted by arrangement with Charlotte Sheedy Literary Agency.

      Illustrations published by arrangement with Little, Brown, and Company,

       New York, New York, USA. All rights reserved.

      The moral rights of the author and artist have been asserted

      First e-book edition 2014

      978 1 4052 5623 0

       eISBN 978 1 7803 1232 3

       www.egmont.co.uk

      A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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      TO: Eratosthenes

       FROM: LS

       FILE UNDER: Stain’d-by-the-Sea, accounts of; arson,

       investigations of; Hangfire; pedagogy; Haines family,

       suspicions concerning; et cetera

       3/4

       cc: VFDhq

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       About the Author

      

      There was a town, and there was a librarian, and there was a fire. While I was in town I was hired to investigate this fire, and I thought the librarian could help me bring a villain to justice. I was almost thirteen and I was wrong. I was wrong about all of it. I should have asked the question “Why would someone destroy one building when they really wanted to destroy another?” Instead, I asked the wrong questions—four wrong questions, more or less. This is the account of the third.

      I was spending a bad morning in a good library. What was bad was the weather, which was unforgivably hot. The sun was having a tantrum so fierce that all the shade had been scared away, and the sidewalks of Stain’d-by-the-Sea, the town in which I had been spending my time, were no place for a decent person to walk. The library, with its calm and cooling silence, was the only comfortable place to spend the early hours of the day.

      The weather wasn’t the only thing that made the morning bad. There was a man, a vicious villain who went by the name of Hangfire. Every morning that found Hangfire still at large was a bad morning. He was hiding somewhere in town, biding his sinister time and planning his troublesome plans, and hiding and planning with him were his associates in an organization called the Inhumane Society. Recently they had set up shop in the Colophon Clinic, if the phrase “set up shop” can mean “turn an empty hospital into a place where many children could be kept prisoner for some sinister purpose.” Although the Colophon Clinic had been destroyed, I was certain Hangfire was looking for a new location for whatever plot he was cooking up.

      For this reason I’d taken to spending my afternoons watching over the town’s only remaining school. I guess I was watching to see if any children were being abducted. They weren’t, not by Hangfire or anyone else. Most of them were already gone. The ink industry, which had once been the pride of Stain’d-by-the-Sea, had faded away, and most of the town had faded along with it. Stain’d Secondary had a large campus, a phrase which here meant that there was a tall, wide building that curved slightly like a seashell—the auditorium perhaps, or the gymnasium—with a grouping of small buildings in its shadow. Once the campus must have been a loud and busy place when the buzzer signaled the end of the day. Now it was much too large for the handful of students who walked quietly out into the gray afternoon. Some of them looked familiar from my time in town. Some of them didn’t. All of them looked tired and none of them met my eyes. It was lonely work to watch over them, but I didn’t learn anything