A Series of Unfortunate Events

- We didn't find the Quagmires. - Not yet.

They could be anywhere.

Anywhere but 667 Dark Avenue, so we learned something.

Not enough.

Those poor children, they must be so scared right now,

and all alone.

You found us.

This story is not about a happy reunion.

I'm so happy to see you.

I've never been so happy to see anyone.

I've read hundreds of newspaper articles, diaries,

and more than one lavishly illustrated catalog

in an attempt to understand the sad story of the Baudelaire orphans.

The horrors I have found are best expressed not with words

but with a sound you'll hear later in this episode.

It's the sound of a long scream in the dark.

As the Baudelaires rejoiced at finding their friends...

- How did you find us? - It was Klaus' idea.

It was Violet's invention.

They had no inkling of the terror...

The horror...

and the dramatic fall they would experience

in this elevator shaft

before this episode in their lives was over.

If you continue to watch, you may find yourself screaming as well.

Can you pick this lock?

Not without any tools. I wish I could see what's down here.

Try this.

See the markings? If you line them up...

And give it a half-turn counterclockwise.

We learned that in The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations.

You found it?

Right before we were kidnapped. We took as many notes as we could.

We may be kidnap victims, but I'm still a journalist.

- We've learned many haunting secrets. - About our parents. And your parents, too.

We were right. Everything is connected.

- Well, what did you learn? -

Tell us when you're safe.

We heard Olaf's plan.

He'll hide us in an item at the In Auction and sneak us out of the city tomorrow.

No, he's not. You're coming with us, right now.

I think it's an electromagnetic circuit. It's not just light, it's heat.

I wonder...

The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations

said it can be used for all sorts of things.

Maybe it can melt the lock.

- Did it melt? - No. It just got hotter.

It's not gonna work. I can feel it overheating.

There must be something else you can use.

Can you hand me that newspaper?

Heat rises.

What?

- We have to go back to that penthouse. - You're leaving?

We're gonna find something there to get you out.

Gather the handkerchief as tight as you can.

- I see what you mean. Heat rises. - And so will we.

Sunny and I should stay here.

No, Klaus. Help your sister. Just come back soon.

- We will. - We promise.

You saved us at Prufrock. We'd be in Olaf's clutches if not for you.

- So I'm sure you know. - What?

What friends are for.

- Hey! You! - Is just handsome foreign man

and pretty lady dragging someone unconscious, please.

I thought it might be something suspicious.

There's still a citywide manhunt. Did you have a nice evening, Mrs. Squalor?

Oh, my, yes.

There's nothing quite like a luxurious 46-course lunch

followed by hot pickled fish and lengthy musical numbers.

- - You flatter me, please.

Now drag the snoring husband upstairs, pretty lady.

- I must make arrangements here. - Righto.

- Come on, Jerome. Up, up! -

Sorry for being suspicious.

You can't be too careful with an actor on the loose.

I couldn't agree more.

Let's hope we make it to the top before the Squalors and Olaf get home.

Can you smell smoke?

The handkerchief!

The fabric is burning. The heat is too intense.

- What do we do? - I need to moderate the temperature.

It has to be hot enough to rise but not so hot that it burns.

That sounds very specific.

- How far from the top are we? - Not close enough.

How high up are we?

I'm gonna fix this.

Come on.

If I turn it on and off, it might stabilize.

Okay, okay. It's... it's working.

If we maintain a consistent heat level, we should make it.

For a second, I thought we...

Sunny.

I saw a circular saw in the penthouse. We can use it to cut the bars.

- Olaf. - He can't know we've found them.

- Jerome! - What happened to him?

Nothing to worry about, darlings. He just collapsed in the middle of dinner.

- Collapsed? - Fell sound asleep.

You should be asleep, too. It's whatever time it is.

- Is Gunther here? - Who? No, no.

Do you smell something? Like a...

school librarian smell?

- Jerome, wake up. - Let him rest.

Sleep is natural, like cosmetics or frivolous lawsuits.

- We need to tell him something important. - Tell me. I'm important.

And you're important to me.

I know I seem like an insanely powerful woman

who spends too much time at work and too much money on earrings.

But I'm also your guardian. You can tell me anything.

Well, you might not believe us.

Try me.

"Opening night at Herring Houdini was a success the size of the Hindenburg."

"This fishy, very in restaurant attracted a crowd ranging

from the city's most prominent bankers to the most prominent financial advisors."

- Herring Houdini. - It's me, idiot.

- Oh, hey! - Something's fishy.

Why are you hanging around that restaurant?

- I'm sorry. - There's a new plan.

- Get a big net. And fast. Goodbye. - The biggest net we can find. Okay. Bye.

He already hung up. Okay.

Hey! Get the net!

This is terrible. Let me understand. Gunther is Olaf in disguise?

His boot covers his tattoo, and his sunglasses hide his eyebrow.

He's hidden your friends in a cage at the bottom of my elevator.

There's no elevator behind those doors. It's ersatz.

Gesundheit.

He plans to sneak them out of town at the In Auction

by hiding them inside an item in this glossy, classy catalog?

This is the least in thing I have ever heard.

This is a complicated plot.

I'm surprised children like yourselves figured it out.

Your bravery and smarts are remarkable. I need a drink.

Parsley soda.

The Daily Punctilio says it's the innest thing since aqueous martinis.

- Try it. - No, thank...

Try it.

- What do you think? - It tastes like parsley.

Isn't it remarkable? I taste the same thing.

- Mrs. Squalor... - Esmé.

- Esmé. - I know what you're going to say.

There isn't time to drink savory beverages.

We must end this terrible scheme.

We will have Gunther arrested and the Quagmires set free.

Put down your drinks. There's no time to waste.

We've got to tell the police as quickly as possible.

Luckily, the nearest police station isn't far away.

It's too bad we've got to take all those stairs again.

We could slide down the banister,

which would be quicker, though less dignified.

Oh! I know! We'll take the elevator.

In times of dire circumstance,

I have to remind myself that whatever distress or heartbreak I might experience,

I can take some comfort that I am not, as the Baudelaires once were,

falling down an elevator shaft for an interminable amount of time...

...only to land with a sort of panicky relief into a net.

- We're okay. - What?

We're okay. We landed in a net.

We're not okay. We're not half-okay.

We're not even 1/27th okay.

Our friends are kidnapped

and our guardian threw us down an elevator shaft!

We're alive.

You are alive, Baudelaires, but you are definitely not okay.

You and the Quagmires are going to be smuggled out of town,

and I can guarantee that you orphans will never be okay again!

What...

Line?

- "What a wonderful..." - Yes, yes, yes.

What a wonderful and profitable day!

Count Olaf, my former acting coach,

will finally get his hands on not one but two enormous fortunes!

- - Your former acting coach?

You knew Gunther's identity the entire time?

Course I did. I'm an actor.

I was acting.

I had to fool you and my dim-witted husband

into thinking he was an auctioneer.

You really are starting to grow as a thesbian.

Thesbian?

Well, I do love horses.

You are our guardian!

You're supposed to keep us safe, not throw us down elevator shafts,