The door of No. 7 bore a brass4 plate inscribed5 with the legend ‘W. D. Pitman, Artist’. It was not a particularly clean brass plate, nor was No. 7 itself a particularly inviting6 place of residence. And yet it had a character of its own, such as may well quicken the pulse of the reader’s curiosity. For here was the home of an artist — and a distinguished8 artist too, highly distinguished by his ill-success — which had never been made the subject of an article in the illustrated9 magazines. No wood-engraver had ever reproduced ‘a corner in the back drawing-room’ or ‘the studio mantelpiece’ of No. 7; no young lady author had ever commented on ‘the unaffected simplicity’ with which Mr Pitman received her in the midst of his ‘treasures’. It is an omission10 I would gladly supply, but our business is only with the backward parts and ‘abject rear’ of this aesthetic11 dwelling12.
Here was a garden, boasting a dwarf13 fountain (that never played) in the centre, a few grimy-looking flowers in pots, two or three newly planted trees which the spring of Chelsea visited without noticeable consequence, and two or three statues after the antique, representing satyrs and nymphs in the worst possible style of sculptured art. On one side the garden was overshadowed by a pair of crazy studios, usually hired out to the more obscure and youthful practitioners14 of British art. Opposite these another lofty out-building, somewhat more carefully finished, and boasting of a communication with the house and a private door on the back lane, enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman. All day, it is true, he was engaged in the work of education at a seminary for young ladies; but the evenings at least were his own, and these he would prolong far into the night, now dashing off ‘A landscape with waterfall’ in oil, now a volunteer bust15 (‘in marble’, as he would gently but proudly observe) of some public character, now stooping his chisel16 to a mere17 ‘nymph’ for a gasbracket on a stair, sir’), or a life-size ‘Infant Samuel’ for a religious nursery. Mr Pitman had studied in Paris, and he had studied in Rome, supplied with funds by a fond parent who went subsequently bankrupt in consequence of a fall in corsets; and though he was never thought to have the smallest modicum18 of talent, it was at one time supposed that he had learned his business. Eighteen years of what is called ‘tuition’ had relieved him of the dangerous knowledge. His artist lodgers would sometimes reason with him; they would point out to him how impossible it was to paint by gaslight, or to sculpture life-sized nymphs without a model.
‘I know that,’ he would reply. ‘No one in Norfolk Street knows it better; and if I were rich I should certainly employ the best models in London; but, being poor, I have taught myself to do without them. An occasional model would only disturb my ideal conception of the figure, and be a positive impediment in my career. As for painting by an artificial light,’ he would continue, ‘that is simply a knack19 I have found it necessary to acquire, my days being engrossed20 in the work of tuition.’
At the moment when we must present him to our readers, Pitman was in his studio alone, by the dying light of the October day. He sat (sure enough with ‘unaffected simplicity’) in a Windsor chair, his low-crowned black felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, harmless, pathetic little man, clad in the hue21 of mourning, his coat longer than is usual with the laity22, his neck enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in hue and simply tied; the whole outward man, except for a pointed23 beard, tentatively clerical. There was a thinning on the top of Pitman’s head, there were silver hairs at Pitman’s temple. Poor gentleman, he was no longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble24 ambition thwarted25, make a cheerless lot.
In front of him, in the corner by the door, there stood a portly barrel; and let him turn them where he might, it was always to the barrel that his eyes and his thoughts returned.
‘Should I open it? Should I return it? Should I communicate with Mr Sernitopolis at once?’ he wondered. ‘No,’ he concluded finally, ‘nothing without Mr Finsbury’s advice.’ And he arose and produced a shabby leathern desk. It opened without the formality of unlocking, and displayed the thick cream-coloured notepaper on which Mr Pitman was in the habit of communicating with the proprietors26 of schools and the parents of his pupils. He placed the desk on the table by the window, and taking a saucer of Indian ink from the chimney-piece, laboriously27 composed the following letter:
‘My dear Mr Finsbury,’ it ran, ‘would it be presuming on your kindness if I asked you to pay me a visit here this evening? It is in no trifling28 matter that I invoke29 your valuable assistance, for need I say more than it concerns the welfare of Mr Semitopolis’s statue of Hercules? I write you in great agitation30 of mind; for I have made all enquiries, and greatly fear that this work of ancient art has been mislaid. I labour besides under another perplexity, not unconnected with the first. Pray excuse the inelegance of this scrawl31, and believe me yours in haste, William D. Pitman.’
Armed with this he set forth32 and rang the bell of No. 233 King’s Road, the private residence of Michael Finsbury. He had met the lawyer at a time of great public excitement in Chelsea; Michael, who had a sense of humour and a great deal of careless kindness in his nature, followed the acquaintance up, and, having come to laugh, remained to drop into a contemptuous kind of friendship. By this time, which was four years after the first meeting, Pitman was the lawyer’s dog.
‘No,’ said the elderly housekeeper33, who opened the door in person, ‘Mr Michael’s not in yet. But ye’re looking terribly poorly, Mr Pitman. Take a glass of sherry, sir, to cheer ye up.’
‘No, I thank you, ma’am,’ replied the artist. ‘It is very good in you, but I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits for sherry. Just give Mr Finsbury this note, and ask him to look round — to the door in the lane, you will please tell him; I shall be in the studio all evening.’
And he turned again into the street and walked slowly homeward. A hairdresser’s window caught his attention, and he stared long and earnestly at the proud, high — born, waxen lady in evening dress, who circulated in the centre of the show. The artist woke in him, in spite of his troubles.
‘It is all very well to run down the men who make these things,’ he cried, ‘but there’s a something — there’s a haughty34, indefinable something about that figure. It’s what I tried for in my “Empress Eugenie”,’ he added, with a sigh.
And he went home reflecting on the quality. ‘They don’t teach you that direct appeal in Paris,’ he thought. ‘It’s British. Come, I am going to sleep, I must wake up, I must aim higher — aim higher,’ cried the little artist to himself. All through his tea and afterward35, as he was giving his eldest36 boy a lesson on the fiddle37, his mind dwelt no longer on his troubles, but he was rapt into the better land; and no sooner was he at liberty than he hastened with positive exhilaration to his studio.
Not even the sight of the barrel could entirely38 cast him down. He flung himself with rising zest39 into his work — a bust of Mr Gladstone from a photograph; turned (with extraordinary success) the difficulty of the back of the head, for which he had no documents beyond a hazy40 recollection of a public meeting; delighted himself by his treatment of the collar; and was only recalled to the cares of life by Michael Finsbury’s rattle41 at the door.
‘Well, what’s wrong?’ said Michael, advancing to the grate, where, knowing his friend’s delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman had not spared the fuel. ‘I suppose you have come to grief somehow.’
‘There is no expression strong enough,’ said the artist. ‘Mr Semitopolis’s statue has not turned up, and I am afraid I shall be answerable for the money; but I think nothing of that — what I fear, my dear Mr Finsbury, what I fear — alas42 that I should have to say it! is exposure. The Hercules was to be smuggled43 out of Italy; a thing positively44 wrong, a thing of which a man of my principles and in my responsible position should have taken (as I now see too late) no part whatever.’
‘This sounds like very serious work,’ said the lawyer. ‘It will require a great deal of drink, Pitman.’
‘I took the liberty of — in short, of being prepared for you,’ replied the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle of gin, a lemon, and glasses. Michael mixed himself a grog, and offered the artist a cigar.
‘No, thank you,’ said Pitman. ‘I used occasionally to be rather partial to it, but the smell is so disagreeable about the clothes.’
‘All right,’ said the lawyer. ‘I am comfortable now. Unfold your tale.’
At some length Pitman set forth his sorrows. He had gone today to Waterloo, expecting to receive the colossal45 Hercules, and he had received instead a barrel not big enough to hold Discobolus; yet the barrel was addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly46 acquainted) of his Roman correspondent. What was stranger still, a case had arrived by the same train, large enough and heavy enough to contain the Hercules; and this case had been taken to an address now undiscoverable. ‘The vanman (I regret to say it) had been drinking, and his language was such as I could never bring myself to repeat.
He was at once discharged by the superintendent47 of the line, who behaved most properly throughout, and is to make enquiries at Southampton. In the meanwhile, what was I to do? I left my address and brought the barrel home; but, remembering an old adage48, I determined49 not to open it except in the presence of my lawyer.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Michael. ‘I don’t see any cause to worry. The Hercules has stuck upon the road. It will drop in tomorrow or the day after; and as for the barrel, depend upon it, it’s a testimonial from one of your young ladies, and probably contains oysters50.’
‘O, don’t speak so loud!’ cried the little artist. ‘It would cost me my place if I were heard to speak lightly of the young ladies; and besides, why oysters from Italy? and why should they come to me addressed in Signor Ricardi’s hand?’
‘Well, let’s have a look at it,’ said Michael. ‘Let’s roll it forward to the light.’
The two men rolled the barrel from the corner, and stood it on end before the fire.
‘It’s heavy enough to be oysters,’ remarked Michael judiciously51.
‘Shall we open it at once?’ enquired53 the artist, who had grown decidedly cheerful under the combined effects of company and gin; and without waiting for a reply, he began to strip as if for a prize-fight, tossed his clerical collar in the wastepaper basket, hung his clerical coat upon a nail, and with a chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other, struck the first blow of the evening.
‘That’s the style, William Dent’ cried Michael. ‘There’s fire for — your money! It may be a romantic visit from one of the young ladies — a sort of Cleopatra business. Have a care and don’t stave in Cleopatra’s head.’
But the sight of Pitman’s alacrity54 was infectious. The lawyer could sit still no longer. Tossing his cigar into the fire, he snatched the instrument from the unwilling55 hands of the artist, and fell to himself. Soon the sweat stood in beads56 upon his large, fair brow; his stylish57 trousers were defaced with iron rust58, and the state of his chisel testified to misdirected energies.
A cask is not an easy thing to open, even when you set about it in the right way; when you set about it wrongly, the whole structure must be resolved into its elements. Such was the course pursued alike by the artist and the lawyer. Presently the last hoop59 had been removed — a couple of smart blows tumbled the staves upon the ground — and what had once been a barrel was no more than a confused heap of broken and distorted boards.
In the midst of these, a certain dismal60 something, swathed in blankets, remained for an instant upright, and then toppled to one side and heavily collapsed61 before the fire. Even as the thing subsided62, an eye-glass tingled63 to the floor and rolled toward the screaming Pitman.
‘Hold your tongue!’ said Michael. He dashed to the house door and locked it; then, with a pale face and bitten lip, he drew near, pulled aside a corner of the swathing blanket, and recoiled64, shuddering65. There was a long silence in the studio.
‘Now tell me,’ said Michael, in a low voice: ‘Had you any hand in it?’ and he pointed to the body.
The little artist could only utter broken and disjointed sounds.
Michael poured some gin into a glass. ‘Drink that,’ he said. ‘Don’t be afraid of me. I’m your friend through thick and thin.’
Pitman put the liquor down untasted.
‘I swear before God,’ he said, ‘this is another mystery to me. In my worst fears I never dreamed of such a thing. I would not lay a finger on a sucking infant.’
‘That’s all square,’ said Michael, with a sigh of huge relief. ‘I believe you, old boy.’ And he shook the artist warmly by the hand. ‘I thought for a moment,’ he added with rather a ghastly smile, ‘I thought for a moment you might have made away with Mr Semitopolis.’
‘It would make no difference if I had,’ groaned66 Pitman. ‘All is at an end for me. There’s the writing on the wall.’
‘To begin with,’ said Michael, ‘let’s get him out of sight; for to be quite plain with you, Pitman, I don’t like your friend’s appearance.’ And with that the lawyer shuddered67. ‘Where can we put it?’
‘You might put it in the closet there — if you could bear to touch it,’ answered the artist.
‘Somebody has to do it, Pitman,’ returned the lawyer; ‘and it seems as if it had to be me. You go over to the table, turn your back, and mix me a grog; that’s a fair division of labour.’
About ninety seconds later the closet-door was heard to shut.
‘There,’ observed Michael, ‘that’s more homelike. You can turn now, my pallid68 Pitman. Is this the grog?’ he ran on. ‘Heaven forgive you, it’s a lemonade.’
‘But, O, Finsbury, what are we to do with it?’ walled the artist, laying a clutching hand upon the lawyer’s arm.
‘Do with it?’ repeated Michael. ‘Bury it in one of your flowerbeds, and erect69 one of your own statues for a monument. I tell you we should look devilish romantic shovelling70 out the sod by the moon’s pale ray. Here, put some gin in this.’
‘I beg of you, Mr Finsbury, do not trifle with my misery,’ cried Pitman. ‘You see before you a man who has been all his life — I do not hesitate to say it — imminently71 respectable. Even in this solemn hour I can lay my hand upon my heart without a blush. Except on the really trifling point of the smuggling72 of the Hercules (and even of that I now humbly73 repent), my life has been entirely fit for publication. I never feared the light,’ cried the little man; ‘and now — now —!’
‘Cheer up, old boy,’ said Michael. ‘I assure you we should count this little contretemps a trifle at the office; it’s the sort of thing that may occur to any one; and if you’re perfectly sure you had no hand in it —’
‘What language am I to find —’ began Pitman.
‘O, I’ll do that part of it,’ interrupted Michael, ‘you have no experience.’ But the point is this: If — or rather since — you know nothing of the crime, since the — the party in the closet — is neither your father, nor your brother, nor your creditor74, nor your mother-in-law, nor what they call an injured husband —’
‘O, my dear sir!’ interjected Pitman, horrified75.
‘Since, in short,’ continued the lawyer, ‘you had no possible interest in the crime, we have a perfectly free field before us and a safe game to play. Indeed, the problem is really entertaining; it is one I have long contemplated76 in the light of an A. B. case; here it is at last under my hand in specie; and I mean to pull you through. Do you hear that? — I mean to pull you through. Let me see: it’s a long time since I have had what I call a genuine holiday; I’ll send an excuse tomorrow to the office. We had best be lively,’ he added significantly; ‘for we must not spoil the market for the other man.’
‘What do you mean?’ enquired Pitman. ‘What other man? The inspector77 of police?’
‘Damn the inspector of police!’ remarked his companion. ‘If you won’t take the short cut and bury this in your back garden, we must find some one who will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short, in the hands of some one with fewer scruples78 and more resources.’
‘A private detective, perhaps?’ suggested Pitman.
‘There are times when you fill me with pity,’ observed the lawyer. ‘By the way, Pitman,’ he added in another key, ‘I have always regretted that you have no piano in this den7 of yours. Even if you don’t play yourself, your friends might like to entertain themselves with a little music while you were mudding.’
‘I shall get one at once if you like,’ said Pitman nervously79, anxious to please. ‘I play the fiddle a little as it is.’
‘I know you do,’ said Michael; ‘but what’s the fiddle — above all as you play it? What you want is polyphonic music. And I’ll tell you what it is — since it’s too late for you to buy a piano I’ll give you mine.’
‘Thank you,’ said the artist blankly. ‘You will give me yours? I am sure it’s very good in you.’
‘Yes, I’ll give you mine,’ continued Michael, ‘for the inspector of police to play on while his men are digging up your back garden.’ Pitman stared at him in pained amazement80.
‘No, I’m not insane,’ Michael went on. ‘I’m playful, but quite coherent. See here, Pitman: follow me one half minute. I mean to profit by the refreshing81 fact that we are really and truly innocent; nothing but the presence of the — you know what — connects us with the crime; once let us get rid of it, no matter how, and there is no possible clue to trace us by. Well, I give you my piano; we’ll bring it round this very night. Tomorrow we rip the fittings out, deposit the — our friend — inside, plump the whole on a cart, and carry it to the chambers82 of a young gentleman whom I know by sight.’
‘Whom do you know by sight?’ repeated Pitman.
‘And what is more to the purpose,’ continued Michael, ‘whose chambers I know better than he does himself. A friend of mine — I call him my friend for brevity; he is now, I understand, in Demerara and (most likely) in gaol83 — was the previous occupant. I defended him, and I got him off too — all saved but honour; his assets were nil84, but he gave me what he had, poor gentleman, and along with the rest — the key of his chambers. It’s there that I propose to leave the piano and, shall we say, Cleopatra?’
‘It seems very wild,’ said Pitman. ‘And what will become of the poor young gentleman whom you know by sight?’
‘It will do him good,’— said Michael cheerily. ‘Just what he wants to steady him.’
‘But, my dear sit, he might be involved in a charge of — a charge of murder,’ gulped85 the artist.
‘Well, he’ll be just where we are,’ returned the lawyer. ‘He’s innocent, you see. What hangs people, my dear Pitman, is the unfortunate circumstance of guilt86.’
‘But indeed, indeed,’ pleaded Pitman, ‘the whole scheme appears to me so wild. Would it not be safer, after all, just to send for the police?’
‘And make a scandal?’ enquired Michael. ‘“The Chelsea Mystery; alleged87 innocence88 of Pitman”? How would that do at the Seminary?’
‘It would imply my discharge,’ admitted the drawing — master. ‘I cannot deny that.’
‘And besides,’ said Michael, ‘I am not going to embark89 in such a business and have no fun for my money.’
‘O my dear sir, is that a proper spirit?’ cried Pitman.
‘O, I only said that to cheer you up,’ said the unabashed Michael. ‘Nothing like a little judicious52 levity90. But it’s quite needless to discuss. If you mean to follow my advice, come on, and let us get the piano at once. If you don’t, just drop me the word, and I’ll leave you to deal with the, whole thing according to your better judgement.’
‘You know perfectly well that I depend on you entirely,’ returned Pitman. ‘But O, what a night is before me with that — horror in my studio! How am I to think of it on my pillow?’
‘Well, you know, my piano will be there too,’ said Michael. ‘That’ll raise the average.’
An hour later a cart came up the lane, and the lawyer’s piano — a momentous91 Broadwood grand — was deposited in Mr Pitman’s studio.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
lodgers
|
|
| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
arena
|
|
| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
inscribed
|
|
| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
inviting
|
|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
omission
|
|
| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
aesthetic
|
|
| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
dwarf
|
|
| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
practitioners
|
|
| n.习艺者，实习者( practitioner的名词复数 )；从业者（尤指医师） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bust
|
|
| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
chisel
|
|
| n.凿子；v.用凿子刻，雕，凿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
modicum
|
|
| n.少量，一小份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
knack
|
|
| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
engrossed
|
|
| adj.全神贯注的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
laity
|
|
| n.俗人；门外汉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
thwarted
|
|
| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
proprietors
|
|
| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
laboriously
|
|
| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
invoke
|
|
| v.求助于(神、法律)；恳求，乞求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
scrawl
|
|
| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
fiddle
|
|
| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
zest
|
|
| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
hazy
|
|
| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
rattle
|
|
| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
smuggled
|
|
| 水货 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
colossal
|
|
| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
superintendent
|
|
| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
adage
|
|
| n.格言，古训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
oysters
|
|
| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
judiciously
|
|
| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
judicious
|
|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
alacrity
|
|
| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
beads
|
|
| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
stylish
|
|
| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
rust
|
|
| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
hoop
|
|
| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
collapsed
|
|
| adj.倒塌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
subsided
|
|
| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
tingled
|
|
| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
recoiled
|
|
| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
shuddering
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
shuddered
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
pallid
|
|
| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
shovelling
|
|
| v.铲子( shovel的现在分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
imminently
|
|
| 迫切地，紧急地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
smuggling
|
|
| n.走私 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
creditor
|
|
| n.债仅人，债主，贷方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
horrified
|
|
| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
contemplated
|
|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
inspector
|
|
| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
refreshing
|
|
| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
gaol
|
|
| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
nil
|
|
| n.无，全无，零 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
gulped
|
|
| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
alleged
|
|
| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
embark
|
|
| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
levity
|
|
| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
momentous
|
|
| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |