Doctor Groom4 was the first to relax. He raised his great, hairy hand to the bed-post and grasped it. His rumbling5 voice lacked its usual authority. It vibrated with a childish wonder:
"I'm reminded that it isn't the first time there's been blood from a man's head on that pillow."
Katherine nodded.
"What do you mean?" the detective snarled6. "There's only one answer to this. There must have been a mechanical post-mortem reaction."
For a moment Doctor Groom's laugh filled the old room. It ceased abruptly7. He shook his head.
"Don't be a fool, Mr. Policeman. At the most conservative estimate this man has been dead more than thirteen hours. Even a few instants after death the human body is incapable8 of any such reaction."
"What then?" the detective asked. "Some one of us, or one of the servants, must have overcome the locks again and deliberately9 disturbed the body. That must be so, but I don't get the motive10."
"It isn't so," Doctor Groom answered bluntly.
Already the detective had to a large extent controlled his bewilderment.
"I'd like your theory then," he said dryly. "You and Mr. Paredes have both been gossiping about the supernatural. When you first came you hinted dark things. You said he'd probably died what the world would call a natural death."
"I meant," the doctor answered, "only that Mr. Blackburn's heart might have failed under the impulse of a sudden fright in this room. I also said, you remember, that the room was nasty and unhealthy. Plenty of people have remarked it before me."
Graham touched the detective's arm.
"A little while ago you admitted yourself that the room was uncomfortable."
Doctor Groom smiled. The detective faced him with a fierce belligerency.
"You'll agree he was murdered."
"Certainly, if you wish to call it that. But I ask for the sharp instrument that caused death. I want to know how, while Blackburn lay on his back, it was inserted through the bed, the springs, the mattress11, and the pillow."
"What are you driving at?"
Doctor Groom pointed12 to the dead man.
"I merely repeat that it isn't the first time that pillow's been stained from unusual wounds in the head. Being, as you call it, a trifle superstitious13, I merely ask if the coincidence is significant."
Katherine cried out. Bobby, in spite of his knowledge that sooner or later he would be arrested for his grandfather's murder, stepped forward, nodding.
"I know what you mean, doctor."
"Anybody," the doctor said, "who's ever heard of this house knows what I mean. We needn't talk of that."
The detective, however, was insistent14. Paredes in his unemotional way expressed an equal curiosity. Bobby and Katherine had been frightened as children by the stories clustering about the old wing. They nodded from time to time while the doctor held them in the desolate15 room with the dead man, speaking of the other deaths it had sheltered.
Silas Blackburn's great grandfather, he told the detective, had been carried to that bed from a Revolutionary skirmish with a bullet at the base of his brain. For many hours he had raved16 deliriously17, fighting unsuccessfully against the final silence.
"It has been a legend in the family, as these young people will tell you, that Blackburns die hard, and there are those who believe that people who die hard leave something behind them—something that clings to the physical surroundings of their suffering. If it was only that one case! But it goes on and on. Silas Blackburn's father, for instance, killed himself here. He had lost his money in silly speculations19. He stood where you stand, detective, and blew his brains out. He fell over and lay where his son lies, his head on that pillow. Silas Blackburn was a money grubber. He started with nothing but this property, and he made a fortune, but even he had enough imagination to lock this room up after one more death of that kind. It was this girl's father. You were too young, Katherine, to remember it, but I took care of him. I saw it. He was carried here after he had been struck at the back of the head in a polo match. He died, too, fighting hard. God! How the man suffered. He loosened his bandages toward the end. When I got here the pillow was redder than it is to-day. It strikes me as curious that the first time the room has been slept in since then it should harbour a death behind locked doors—from a wound in the head."
Paredes's fingers were restless, as if he missed his customary cigarette.
The detective strolled to the window.
"Very interesting," he said. "Extremely interesting for old women and young children. You may classify yourself, doctor."
"Thanks," the doctor rumbled20. "I'll wait until you've told me how these doors were entered, how that wound was made, how this body turned on its side in an empty room."
The detective glanced at Bobby. His voice lacked confidence.
"I'll do my best. I'll even try to tell you why the murderer came back this afternoon to disturb his victim."
Bobby went, curiously21 convinced that the doctor had had the better of the argument.
For a moment Katherine, Graham, Paredes, and he were alone in the main hall.
"God knows what it was," Graham said, "but it may mean something to you, Bobby. Tell us carefully, Katherine, about the sounds that came to you across the court."
"It was just what I heard last night when he died," she answered. "It was like something falling softly, then a long-drawn22 sigh. I tried to pay no attention. I fought it. I didn't call at first. But I couldn't keep quiet. I knew we had to go to that room. It never occurred to me that the detective or the coroner might be there moving around."
"You were alone up here?" Graham said.
"I think so."
"No," Bobby said. "I was in my room."
"What were you doing?" Graham asked.
"I was asleep. Katherine's call woke me up."
"Asleep!" Paredes echoed. "And she didn't call at once—"
He broke off. Bobby grasped his arm.
"What are you trying to do?"
"I'm sorry," Paredes said. "Now, really, you mustn't think of that. I shouldn't have spoken. I'm more inclined to agree with the doctor's theory, impossible as it seems."
"Yesterday," Katherine said, "I would have thought it impossible. After last night and just now I'm not so sure. I—I wish the doctor were right. It would clear you, Bobby."
He smiled.
"Do you think any jury would listen to such a theory?"
Katherine put her finger to her lips. Howells and the doctor came from the corridor of the old wing. At the head of the stairs the detective turned.
"You will find it very warm and comfortable by the fire in the lower hall, Mr. Blackburn."
He waited until Katherine had slipped to her room until Graham, Paredes, the doctor, and Bobby were on the stairs. Then he walked slowly into the new corridor.
Bobby knew what he was after. The detective had made no effort to disguise his intention. He wanted Bobby out of the way while he searched his room again, this time for a sharp, slender instrument capable of penetrating23 between the bones at the base of a man's brain.
Paredes lighted a cigarette and warmed his back at the fire. The doctor settled himself in his chair. He paid no attention to the others. He wouldn't answer Paredes's slow remarks.
"Interesting, doctor! I am a little psychic24. Always in this house I have responded to strange, unfriendly influences. Always, as now, the approach of night depresses me."
Bobby couldn't sit still. He nodded at Graham, arose, got his coat and hat, and stepped into the court. The dusk was already thick there. Dampness and melancholy25 seemed to exude26 from the walls of the old house. He paused and gazed at one of the foot-prints in the soft earth by the fountain. Shreds27 of plaster adhered to the edges, testimony that the detective had made his cast from this print. He tried to realize that that mute, familiar impression had the power to send him to his execution. Graham, who had come silently from the house, startled him.
"What are you looking at?"
"No use, Hartley. I was on the library lounge. I heard every word
Howells said."
"Perhaps it's just as well," Graham said. "You know what you face. But I hate to see you suffer. We've got to find a way around that evidence."
Bobby pointed to the windows of the room of death.
"There's no way around except the doctor's theory."
He laughed shortly.
"Much as I've feared that room, I'm afraid the psychic explanation won't hold water. Paredes put his finger on it. I would have had time to get back to my room before Katherine called—"
"Stop, Bobby!"
"Hartley! I'm afraid to go to sleep. It's dreadful not to know whether you are active in your sleep, whether you are evil and ingenious to the point of the miraculous28 in your sleep. I'm so tired, Hartley."
"Why should you have gone to that room this afternoon?" Graham asked. "You must get this idea out of your head. You must have sleep, and, perhaps, when you're thoroughly29 rested, you will remember."
"I'm not so sure," Bobby said, "that I want to remember."
He pointed to the footprint.
"There's no question. I was here last night."
"Unless," Graham said, "your handkerchief and your shoes were stolen."
"Nonsense!" Bobby cried. "The only motive would be to commit a murder in order to kill me by sending me to the chair. And who would know his way around that dark house like me? Who would have found out so easily that my grandfather had changed his room?"
"It's logical," Graham admitted slowly, "but we can't give in. By the way, has Paredes ever borrowed any large sums?"
Bobby hesitated. After all, Paredes and he had been good friends.
"A little here and there," he answered reluctantly.
"Has he ever paid you back?"
"I don't recall," Bobby answered, flushing. "You know I've never been exactly calculating about money. Whenever he wanted it I was always glad to help Carlos out. Why do you ask?"
"If any one," Graham answered, "looked on you as a certain source of money, there would be a motive in conserving31 that source, in increasing it. Probably lots of people knew Mr. Blackburn was out of patience with you; would make a new will to-day."
"Do you think," Bobby asked, "that Carlos is clever enough to have got through those doors? And what about this afternoon—that ghastly disturbing of the body?"
He smiled wanly32.
"It looks like me or the ghosts of my ancestors."
"If Paredes," Graham insisted, "tries to borrow any money from you now, tell me about it. Another thing, Bobby. We can't afford to keep your experiences of last night a secret any longer."
He stepped to the door and asked Doctor Groom to come out.
"He won't be likely to pass your confidences on to Howells," he said.
"Those men are natural antagonists33."
After a moment the doctor appeared, a slouch hat drawn low over his shaggy forehead.
"What you want?" he grumbled34. "This court's a first-class place to catch cold. Dampest hole in the neighbourhood. Often wondered why."
"I want to ask you," Graham began, "something about the effects of such drugs as could be given in wine. Tell him, will you, Bobby, what happened last night?"
Bobby vanquished35 the discomfort36 with which the gruff, opinionated physician had always filled him. He recited the story of last night's dinner, of his experience in the cafe, of his few blurred37 impressions of the swaying vehicle and the woods.
"Hartley thinks something may have been put in my wine."
"What for?" the doctor asked. "What had these people to gain by drugging you? Suppose for some far-fetched reason they wanted to have Silas Blackburn put out of the way. They couldn't make you do it by drugging you. At any rate, they couldn't have had a hand in this afternoon. Mind, I'm not saying you had a thing to do with it yourself, but I don't believe you were drugged. Any drug likely to be used in wine would probably have sent you into a deep sleep. And your symptoms on waking up are scarcely sharp enough. Sorry, boy. Sounds more like aphasia38. The path you've been treading sometimes leads to that black country, and it's there that hates sharpen unknown. I remember a case where a tramp returned and killed a farmer who had refused him food. Retained no recollection of the crime—hours dropped out of his life. They executed him while he still tried to remember."
"I read something about the case," Bobby muttered.
"Been better if you hadn't," the doctor grumbled. "Suggestions work in a man's brain without his knowing it."
He thought for a moment, his heavy, black brows coming closer together. He glanced at the windows of the old room. His sunken, infused eyes nearly closed.
"I know how you feel, and that's a little punishment maybe you deserve. I'll say this for your comfort. You probably followed the plan that had been impressed on your brain by Mr. Graham. You came here, no doubt, and stood around. With an automatic appreciation39 of your condition you may have taken that old precaution of convivial40 men returning home, and removed your shoes. Then your automatic judgment41 may have warned you that you weren't fit to go in at all, and you probably wandered off to the empty house."
"Then," Bobby asked, "you don't think I did it?"
"God knows who did it. God knows what did it. The longer I live the surer I become that we scientists can't probe everything. Whenever I go near Silas Blackburn's body I receive a very powerful impression that his death in that room from such a wound goes deeper than ordinary murder, deeper than a case of recurrent aphasia."
His eyes widened. He turned with Graham and Bobby at the sound of an automobile42 coming through the woods.
"Probably the coroner at last," he said.
The automobile, a small runabout, drew up at the entrance to the court. A little wizened43 man, with yellowish skin stretched across high cheek bones, stepped out and walked up the path.
"Well!" he said shrilly44. "What you doing, Doctor Groom?"
"Waiting to witness another reason why coroners should be abolished," the doctor rumbled. "This is the dead man's grandson, Coroner; and Mr. Graham, a friend of the family's."
Bobby accepted the coroner's hand with distaste.
"Howells," the coroner said in his squeaky voice, "seems to think it's a queer case. Inconvenient46, I call it. Wish people wouldn't die queerly whenever I go on a little holiday. I had got five ducks, gentlemen, when they came to me with that damned telegram. Bad business mine, 'cause people will die when you least expect them to. Let's go see what Howells has got on his mind. Bright sleuth, Howells! Ought to be in New York."
He started up the path, side by side with Doctor Groom.
"Are you coming?" Graham asked Bobby. Bobby shook his head. "I don't want to. I'd rather stay outside. You'd better be there, Hartley."
Graham followed the others while Bobby wandered from the court and started down a path that entered the woods from the rear of the house.
Immediately the forest closed greedily about him. Here and there, where the trees were particularly stunted47, branches cut against a pallid48, greenish glow in the west—the last light.
Bobby wanted, if he could, to find that portion of the woods where he had stood last night, fancying the trees straining in the wind like puny49 men, visualizing50 a dim figure in a black mask which he had called his conscience.
The forest was all of a pattern—ugly, unfriendly, melancholy. He went on, however, hoping to glimpse that particular picture he remembered. He left the path, walking at haphazard51 among the undergrowth. Ahead he saw a placid52, flat, and faintly luminous53 stretch. He pushed through the bushes and paused on the shore of a lake, small and stagnant54. Dead, stripped trunks of trees protruded55 from the water. At the end a bird arose with a sudden flapping of wings; it cried angrily as it soared above the trees and disappeared to the south.
The morbid56 loneliness of the place touched Bobby's spirit with chill hands. As a child he had never cared to play about the stagnant lake, nor, he recalled, had the boys of the village fished or bathed there. Certainly he hadn't glimpsed it last night. He was about to walk away when a movement on the farther bank held him, made him gaze with eager eyes across the sleepy water.
He thought there was something black in the black shadows of the trees—a thing that stirred through the heavy dusk without sound. He received, moreover, an impression of anger and haste as distinct as the bird had projected. But he could see nothing clearly in this bad light. He couldn't be sure that there was any one over there.
He started around the end of the lake, and for a moment he thought that the shape of a woman, clothed in black, detached itself from the shadow. The image dissolved. He wondered if it had been more substantial than fancy.
"Who is that?" he called.
The woods muffled57 his voice. There was no answer. Nor was there, he noticed, any crackling of twigs58 or rustling59 of dead leaves. If there had been a woman there she had fled noiselessly, yet, as he went on around the lake, his own progress was distinctly audible through the decay of autumn.
It was too dark on the other side to detect any traces of a recent human presence in the thicket60. He couldn't quiet, however, the feeling that he had had a glimpse of a woman clothed in black who had studied him secretly across the stagnant stretch of the lake.
On the other hand, there was no logic30 in a woman's presence here at such an hour, no logic in a stranger's running away from him. While he pondered the night invaded the forest completely, making it impossible for him to search farther. It had grown so dark, indeed, that he found his way out with difficulty. The branches caught at his clothing. The underbrush tangled61 itself about his feet. It was as if the thicket were trying to hold him away from the house.
As he entered the court he noticed a discoloured glow diffusing62 itself through the curtains of the room of death.
He opened the front door. Paredes and Graham alone sat by the fire.
"Then they're not through yet," Bobby said.
Graham arose. He commenced to pace the length of the hall.
"They've had Katherine in that room. One would think she'd been through enough. Now they've sent for the servants."
Paredes laughed lightly.
"After this," he said, "I'm afraid, Bobby, you'll need the powers of the police to keep servants in your house."
Muttering, frightened voices came from the dining-room. Jenkins entered, and, shaking his head, went up the stairs. The two women who followed him, were in tears. They paused, as if seeking an excuse to linger on the lower floor, to postpone63 as long as possible their entrance of the room of death.
Ella, a pretty girl, whose dark hair and eyes suggested a normal vivacity64, spoke to Bobby.
"It's outrageous65, Mr. Robert. He found out all we knew this morning.
What's he after now? You might think we'd murdered Mr. Blackburn."
Jane was older. An ugly scar crossed her cheek. It was red and like an open wound as she demanded that Bobby put a stop to these inquisitions.
"I can do nothing," he said. "Go on up and answer or they can make trouble for you."
Muttering again to each other, they followed Jenkins, and in the lower hall the three men waited.
Jenkins came down first. His face was white. It twitched66.
"The body!" he mouthed. "It's moved! I saw it before."
He stretched out his hands to Bobby.
"That's why they wanted us, to find out where we were this afternoon, and everything we've done, as if we might have gone there, and disturbed—"
Angry voices in the upper hall interrupted him. The two women ran down, as white as Jenkins. At an impatient nod from Bobby the three servants went on to the kitchen. Howells, the coroner, and Doctor Groom descended67.
"What ails68 you, Doctor?" the coroner was squeaking69. "I agree it's an unpleasant room. Lots of old rooms are. I follow you when you say no post-mortem contraction70 would have caused such an alteration71 in the position of the body. There's no question about the rest of it. The man was clearly murdered with a sharp tool of some sort, and the murderer was in the room again this afternoon, and disturbed the corpse72. Howells says he knows who. It's up to him to find out how. He says he has plenty of evidence and that the guilty person's in this house, so I'm not fretting74 myself. I'm cross with you, Howells, for breaking up my holiday. One of my assistants would have done as well."
Howells apparently75 paid no attention to the coroner. His narrow eyes followed the doctor with a growing curiosity. His level smile seemed to have drawn his lips into a line, inflexible76, a little cruel. The doctor grunted77:
"Instead of abolishing coroners we ought to double their salaries."
The coroner made a long squeak45 as an indication of mirth.
"You think unfriendly spooks did it. I've always believed you were an old fogy. Hanged if that doesn't sound modern."
The doctor ran his fingers through his thick, untidy hair.
"I merely ask for the implement78 that caused death. I only ask to know how it was inserted through the bed while Blackburn lay on his back. And if you've time you might tell me how the murderer entered the room last night and to-day."
The coroner repeated his squeak. He glanced at the little group by the fire.
"Out in the kitchen, upstairs, or right here under our noses is almost certainly the person who could tell us. Interesting case, Howells!"
Howells, who still watched the doctor, answered dryly:
"Unusually interesting."
The coroner struggled into his coat.
"Permits are all available," he squeaked79. "Have your undertakers out when you like."
Graham answered him brusquely.
"Everything's arranged. I've only to telephone."
The coroner nodded at Doctor Groom. His voice pointed its humour with a thinner tone.
"If I were you, Howells, I'd take this hairy old theorist up as a suspicious character."
The doctor made a movement in his direction while Howells continued to stare. The doctor checked himself. He went to the closet and got his hat and coat.
"Want me to drop you, old sawbones?" the coroner asked.
Savagely80 the doctor shook his head.
"My buggy's in the stable."
The coroner's squeak was thinner, more irritating than ever.
"Then don't let the spooks get you, driving through the woods. Old folks say there are a-plenty there."
Bobby arose. He couldn't face the prospect81 of the man's squeaking again.
"We find nothing to laugh at in this situation," he said. "You're quite through?"
The coroner's eyes blazed.
"I'm through, if that's the way you feel. Goodnight." He added with a sharp maliciousness82: "I leave my sympathy for whoever Howells has his eagle eye on."
Howells, when the doctor and the coroner had gone, excused himself with a humility83 that mocked the others:
"With your permission I shall write in the library until dinner."
He bowed and left.
"He wants to work on his report," Graham suggested.
"An exceptional man!" Paredes murmured.
"Has he questioned you?" Graham asked.
"I'd scarcely call it that," Paredes replied. "We've both questioned, and we've both been clams84. I fancy he doesn't think much of me since I believe in ghosts, yet the doctor seems to interest him."
"Where were you?" Graham asked, "when Miss Perrine's scream called us?"
Paredes stifled85 a yawn.
"Dozing87 here by the fire. I am very tired after last night."
"You don't look particularly tired."
"Custom, I'm ashamed to say, constructs a certain armour88. To-morrow, with a fresh mind, I hope to be able to dissect89 all I have seen and heard, all that has happened here to-day."
"The thing that counts is what happened to me last night, Carlos," Bobby said. "It's the only way you can help me."
As Paredes strolled to the foot of the stairs Bobby waited for a defensive90 reply, for a sign, perhaps, that the Panamanian was offended and proposed to depart. Paredes, however, went upstairs, yawning. He called back:
"I must make myself a trifle more presentable for dinner."
Graham faced Bobby with the old question:
"What can he want hanging around here unless it's money?" And after a moment: "He's clever—hard to sound. I have to leave you, Bobby. I must telephone—the ugly formalities."
"It's good of you to take them off my mind," Bobby answered.
He remained in his chair, gazing drowsily91 at the fire, trying, always trying to remember, yet finding no new light among the shadows of his memory.
Just before dinner Katherine joined him. She wore a sombre gown that made her face seem too white, that heightened the groping curiosity of her eyes.
Without speaking she sat down beside him and stared, too, at the smouldering fire. From her presence, from her tactful silence he drew comfort—to an extent, rest.
"You make me ashamed," he whispered once. "I've been a beast, leaving you here alone these weeks. You don't understand quite, why that was." She wouldn't let him go on. She shook her head. They remained silently by the fire until Graham and Paredes joined them.
When dinner was announced the detective came from the library, and, uninvited, sat at the table with them. His report evidently still filled his mind, for he spoke only when it was unavoidable and then in monosyllables. Paredes alone ate with a show of enjoyment92, alone attempted to talk. Eventually even he fell silent before the lack of response.
Afterward93 he arranged a small card table by the fire in the hall. He found cards, and, with a package of cigarettes and a box of matches convenient to his hand, commenced to play solitaire. The detective, Bobby gathered, had brought his report up to date, for he lounged near by, watching the Panamanian's slender fingers as they handled the cards deftly94. Bobby, Graham, and Katherine were glad to withdraw beyond the range of those narrow, searching eyes. They entered the library and closed the door.
Graham, expectant of a report from his man in New York as to the movements of Maria and the identity of the stranger, was restless.
"If we could only get one fact," he said, "one reasonable clue that didn't involve Bobby! I've never felt so at sea. I wonder if, in spite of Howells's evidence, we're not all a little afraid since this afternoon, of something such as Katherine felt last night—something we can't define. Howells alone is satisfied. We must believe in the hand of another man. Doctor Groom talks about indefinable hands."
"Uncle Silas was so afraid last night!" Katherine whispered.
"That," Bobby cried, "is the fact we must have."
He paused.
"What's that?" he asked sharply.
They sat for some time, listening to the sound of wheels on the gravel95, to the banging of the front door, and, later, to the pacing of men in the room of death overhead. They tried again to thread the mazes96 of this problem whose only conceivable exit led to Bobby's guilt73. The movements upstairs persisted. At last they became measured and dragging, like the footsteps of men who carried some heavy burden.
They looked at each other then. Katherine hid her eyes.
"It's like a tomb here," Bobby said.
He arranged kindling97 in the fireplace and touched a match to it. It hadn't occurred to him to ring for Jenkins. None of them wished to be disturbed. Eventually it was the detective who intruded98. He strolled in, glanced at them curiously for a moment, then walked to the door of the enclosed staircase. He grasped the knob.
"To-night," he announced, "I am trying a small experiment on the chance of clearing up the last details of the mystery. Since it depends on the courage of whoever murdered Mr. Blackburn I've small hope of its success."
He indicated the ceiling. "You've heard, I daresay, what's been going on up there. Mr. Blackburn's body has been removed to his own room. The room where he was killed is empty. I mean to go up and enter and lock the doors as he did last night. I shall leave the window up as it was last night. I shall blow out the candle as he did."
He lowered his voice. He looked directly at Bobby. His words carried a definite challenge.
"I shall lie on the bed and await the murderer under the precise conditions Mr. Blackburn did."
"What do you expect to gain by that?" Graham asked.
"Probably nothing," Howells answered, "because, as I have said, success depends upon the courage of a man who kills in the dark while his victim sleeps. I simply give him the chance to attack me as he did Mr. Blackburn. Of course he realizes it would be a good deal to his advantage to have me out of the way. I ask him to come, therefore, as stealthily as he did last night. I beg him to match his skill with mine. I want him to play his miracle with the window or one of the locks. But I'll wager99 he hasn't the nerve, although I don't see why he should hesitate. He's a doomed100 man. I shall make my arrest in the morning. I shall publish all my evidence."
Bobby wouldn't meet the narrow, menacing eyes, for he knew that Howells challenged him to a duel101 of slyness with the whole truth at stake. The detective's manner increased the hatred102 which had blazed in Bobby's mind when he had stood in the bedroom over his grandfather's body. For a moment he wished with all his heart that he might accept the challenge. He did the best he could.
"I gather," he said, "that you haven't unearthed103 the motive for disturbing the body. And have you found the sharp instrument that caused death?"
The detective answered tolerantly:
"I have found a number of sharp instruments. None of them, however, seems quite slender or round enough. I'll get all that out of my man when I lock him up. I'll get it to-night if he dares come."
"Why," Graham said, "do you announce your plans so accurately105 to us?"
The detective's level smile widened.
"You shouldn't ask that, Mr. Graham. I've caused the servants to know my plans. Mr. Paredes knows them. I wish every one in the house to know them. That is in order that the murderer, who is in the house, may come if he wishes."
Katherine arose abruptly.
"When you come down to it," she said, "you are accusing one of us. It's brutal106, unfair—absurd."
"I am a detective, Miss," Howells answered. "I have my own methods."
Bobby stared at the slight protuberance in the breast pocket of the detective's coat. The cast of his footprint must be secreted107 there, and almost certainly the handkerchief which had been found beneath the bed. He shrank from his own thoughts.
If he had consciously committed this murder he could understand a desire to get that evidence.
Katherine had gone closer to the detective.
"In any case," she urged him, "I wish you wouldn't try to spend the night in that room. It isn't pleasant. After what the doctor has said, it—well, it isn't safe."
Howells burst out laughing.
"Never fear, Miss. I'm content to give Doctor Groom's spirits as much chance to take a fall out of me as anybody. I'll be going up now." He bowed. "Good-night to you all, and pleasant dreams."
He opened the door and slipped into the darkness of the private staircase. They heard him, after he had closed the door, climbing upward. Katherine shivered.
"He has plenty of courage, Hartley! If nothing happens to him to-night he'll finish Bobby in the morning. That mustn't happen. He mustn't go to jail. You understand. Things would never be the same for him again."
Graham spread his hands.
"What am I to do? I might go to New York and get after these people myself."
"Don't leave the Cedars," Bobby begged, "until he does arrest me. There'll be plenty of time for the New York end then. I've no faith in it. Watch Carlos if you want, but most important of all, find out—somehow you've got to find out—what my grandfather was afraid of."
Graham nodded.
"And if it does come to an arrest, Bobby, you're not to say a word to anybody without my advice. You ought to get to bed now. You must have rest, and Katherine, too. Don't listen to-night, Katherine, for messages from across the court."
"I'll try," she said, "but, Hartley, I wish that man wasn't there. I wish no one was in that room."
She took Bobby's hand.
"Good-night, Bobby, and don't give up hope. We'll do something. Somehow we'll pull you through."
Bobby waited, hoping that Graham would offer to share his room with him. For, as he had said earlier, the prospect of going to sleep, of losing control of his thoughts and actions, appalled108 him. Yet such an offer, he realized, must impress Graham as delicate, as an indication that he really doubted Bobby's innocence109, as a sort of spying. He wasn't surprised, therefore, when Graham only said:
"I'll be in the next room, Bobby. If you're restless or need me you've only to knock on the wall."
Bobby didn't leave the library with them. The warmth with which Katherine had just filled him faded as he watched her go out side by side with Graham. Her hand was on Graham's arm. There was, he fancied, in her eyes an emotion deeper than gratitude110 or friendship. He sighed as the door closed behind them. He was himself largely to blame for that situation. His very revolt against its imminence111 had hastened its shaping.
He walked anxiously to the table. He had remembered the medicine Doctor Groom had prepared for him that afternoon to make him sleep. He hadn't taken it then. If it remained where he had left it, which was likely enough in the disordered state of the household, he would drink it now. Reinforced by his complete weariness, it ought to send him into a sleep profound enough to drown any possible abnormal impulses of unconsciousness.
The glass was there. He drained it, and stood for a time looking at the pinkish sediment113 in the bottom. That was all right for to-night, but afterward—he couldn't shrink perpetually from sleep. He shrugged114 his shoulders, remembering it would make little difference what he did in his sleep when they had him behind prison bars. Perhaps this would be his last night of freedom.
He found Paredes still in the hall. The Panamanian, with languid gestures, continued to play his solitaire. His box of cigarettes was much reduced.
"I thought you were tired, Carlos."
Paredes glanced up. His eyes were neither weary nor alert. As usual his expression disclosed nothing of his thoughts, yet he must have read in Bobby's tone a reproach at this indifference115.
"The game intrigues116 me," he murmured, "and you know," he added dreamily.
"I sometimes think better while I amuse myself."
Bobby nodded good-night and went on up to his room. Even while he undressed the effects of the doctor's narcotic117 were perceptible. His eyes had grown heavy, his brain a trifle numb104.
Almost apathetically118 he assured himself that he couldn't accomplish these mad actions in his sleep.
"Yet last night—" he murmured. "That finishes me in the eyes of the law. The doctor will testify to aphasia. According to him I am two men—two men!"
He yawned, recalling snatches of books he had read and one or two scientific reports of such cases. He climbed into bed and blew out his candle. His drowsiness119 thickened. In his dulled mind one recollection remained—the picture of Howells coldly challenging him with his level smile to make a secret entrance of the old bedroom in a murderous effort to escape the penalty of the earlier crime. And Howells had been right. His death would give Bobby a chance. The destruction of the evidence, the bringing into the case of a broader-minded man, a man without a carefully constructed theory—all that would help Bobby, might save him. Howells, moreover, had indicated that he had so far withheld120 his evidence. But that was probably a bait.
In his drowsy121 way Bobby hated more powerfully than before this detective who, with a serene122 malevolence123, made him writhe124 in his net. Thought ceased. He drifted into a trance-like sleep. He swung in the black pit again, fighting out against crushing odds125. The darkness thundered as though informing him that graver forces than any he had ever imagined had definitely grasped him. Then he understood. He was in a black cell, and the thundering was the steady advance of men along an iron floor to take him—
"Bobby! Bobby!"
He flung out his hands. He sat upright, opening his eyes. The blackness assumed the familiar, yielding quality of the night. The thunder, the footfalls, became a hurried knocking at his door.
"Bobby! You're there—" It was Katherine. Her tone made the night as frightening as the blackness of the pit.
"What's the matter?"
"You're there. I didn't know. Get up. Hartley's putting some clothes on.
Hurry! The house is so dark—so strange."
"Tell me what's happened."
She didn't answer at first. He struck a match, lighted his candle, threw on a dressing126 gown, and stepped to the door. Katherine shrank against the wall, hiding her eyes from the light of his candle. He thought it odd she should wear the dress in which she had appeared at dinner. But it seemed indifferently fastened, and her hair was in disorder112. Graham stepped from his room.
"What is it?" Bobby demanded.
"You wouldn't wake up, Bobby. You were so hard to wake." The idea seemed to fill her mind. She repeated it several times.
"It's nothing," Graham said. "Go back to your room, Katherine. She's fanciful—"
She lowered her hands. Her eyes were full of terror. "No. We have to go to that room as I went last night, as we went to-day."
Graham tried to quiet her. "We'll go to satisfy you."
Her voice hardened. "I know. I was asleep. It woke me up, stealing in across the court again."
Bobby grasped her arm. "You came out and aroused up at once?"
She shook her head. "I—I couldn't find my dressing gown. This dress was by the bed. I put it on, but I couldn't seem to fasten it."
Bobby stepped back, remembering his last thought before drifting into the trance-like sleep. She seemed to know what was in his mind.
"But when I knocked you were sleeping so soundly."
"Too soundly, perhaps."
"Come. We're growing imaginative," Graham said. "Howells would take care of himself. He'll probably give us the deuce for disturbing him, but to satisfy you, Katherine, we'll wake him up."
"If you can," she whispered.
They entered the main hall. Light came through the stair well from the lower floor. Graham walked to the rail and glanced down. Bobby followed him. On the table by the fireplace the cards were arranged in neat piles. A strong draft blew cigarette smoke up to them.
"Paredes," Graham said, amazed, "is still downstairs. The front door's open. He's probably in the court."
"It must be very late," Bobby said.
Katherine shivered.
"Half-past two. I looked at my watch. The same time as last night."
With a gesture of resolution she led the way into the corridor. Bobby shrank from the damp and musty atmosphere of the narrow passage.
"Why do you come, Katherine?" he asked.
"I have to know, as I had to know last night."
Graham raised his hand and knocked at the door which again was locked on the inside. The echoes chattered127 back at them. Graham knocked again. With a passionate128 revolt Katherine raised her hands, too, and pounded at the panels. Suddenly she gave up. She let her hands fall listlessly.
"It's no use."
"Howells! Howells!" Graham called. "Why don't you answer?"
"When he boasted to-night," Katherine whispered, "the murderer heard him."
"Suppose he's gone down to the library?" Graham said.
Bobby gave Katherine the candle.
"No. He'd have stayed. We've got to break in here. We've got to find out."
Graham placed his powerful shoulder against the door. The lock strained. Bobby added his weight. With a splintering of wood the door flew open, precipitating129 them across the threshold. Through the darkness Graham sprang for the opposite door.
"It's locked," he called, "and the key's on this side."
Bobby took the candle from Katherine and forced himself to approach the bed. The flame flickered130 a little in the breeze which stole past the curtain of the open window. It shook across the body of Howells, fully18 clothed with his head on the stained pillow. His face, intricately lined, was as peaceful as Silas Blackburn's had been. Its level smile persisted.
Bobby caught his breath.
"Howells—"
He set the candle on the bureau.
"It's no use. We must look at the back of his head."
"The back of his head!" Katherine echoed.
"It's illegal," Graham said.
"Look!" Bobby cried. "We've got to look!"
Graham tiptoed forward. He stretched out his hand. With a motion of abhorrence131 he drew it back. Bobby watched him hypnotically, thinking:
"I wanted this. I hated him. I thought of it just before I went to sleep."
Graham reached out again. This time he touched Howells's head. It rolled over on the pillow.
"Good God!" he said.
They stared at the red hole, near the base of the brain, at a fresh crimson132 splotch, straying beyond the edges of the darker one they had seen that afternoon.
Graham turned away, his hand still outstretched, as if it had touched some poisonous thing and might retain a contamination.
"He was prepared against it," he whispered, "expected it, yet it got him."
He glanced rapidly around the room whose shadows seemed crowding about the candle to stifle86 it.
"Unless we're all mad," he cried, "the murderer must be hidden in this room now. Don't you see? He's got to be, or Groom's right, and we're fighting the dead. Go out, Katherine. Stand by that broken door, Bobby. I'm going to look."
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
rumbling
|
|
| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
snarled
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
mattress
|
|
| n.床垫，床褥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
insistent
|
|
| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
raved
|
|
| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
deliriously
|
|
| adv.谵妄（性）；发狂；极度兴奋/亢奋；说胡话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
speculations
|
|
| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
rumbled
|
|
| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
penetrating
|
|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
psychic
|
|
| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
exude
|
|
| v.(使)流出，(使)渗出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
shreds
|
|
| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
miraculous
|
|
| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
conserving
|
|
| v.保护，保藏，保存( conserve的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
wanly
|
|
| adv.虚弱地；苍白地，无血色地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
antagonists
|
|
| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
grumbled
|
|
| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
vanquished
|
|
| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
blurred
|
|
| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
aphasia
|
|
| n.失语症 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
convivial
|
|
| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
automobile
|
|
| n.汽车，机动车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
wizened
|
|
| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
shrilly
|
|
| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
squeak
|
|
| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
stunted
|
|
| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
pallid
|
|
| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
puny
|
|
| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
visualizing
|
|
| 肉眼观察 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
haphazard
|
|
| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
luminous
|
|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
stagnant
|
|
| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
protruded
|
|
| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
morbid
|
|
| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
muffled
|
|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
twigs
|
|
| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
thicket
|
|
| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
tangled
|
|
| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
diffusing
|
|
| （使光）模糊，漫射，漫散( diffuse的现在分词 )； （使）扩散； （使）弥漫； （使）传播 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
postpone
|
|
| v.延期，推迟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
vivacity
|
|
| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
outrageous
|
|
| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
twitched
|
|
| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
ails
|
|
| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
squeaking
|
|
| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
contraction
|
|
| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
alteration
|
|
| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
fretting
|
|
| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
inflexible
|
|
| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
grunted
|
|
| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
implement
|
|
| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
squeaked
|
|
| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
savagely
|
|
| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
maliciousness
|
|
| [法] 恶意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
83
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
clams
|
|
| n.蛤；蚌，蛤( clam的名词复数 )v.（在沙滩上）挖蛤( clam的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
stifled
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
stifle
|
|
| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
dozing
|
|
| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
armour
|
|
| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
dissect
|
|
| v.分割；解剖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
defensive
|
|
| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
drowsily
|
|
| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
deftly
|
|
| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
gravel
|
|
| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
mazes
|
|
| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
kindling
|
|
| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
intruded
|
|
| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
wager
|
|
| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
duel
|
|
| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
hatred
|
|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
unearthed
|
|
| 出土的（考古） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
numb
|
|
| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
secreted
|
|
| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
appalled
|
|
| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
imminence
|
|
| n.急迫，危急 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
disorder
|
|
| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
sediment
|
|
| n.沉淀，沉渣，沉积(物) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
intrigues
|
|
| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
narcotic
|
|
| n.麻醉药，镇静剂；adj.麻醉的，催眠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
apathetically
|
|
| adv.不露感情地；无动于衷地；不感兴趣地；冷淡地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
drowsiness
|
|
| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
withheld
|
|
| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
drowsy
|
|
| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
malevolence
|
|
| n.恶意，狠毒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
writhe
|
|
| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
chattered
|
|
| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
precipitating
|
|
| adj.急落的，猛冲的v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的现在分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
abhorrence
|
|
| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |