The burning of two grain warehouses5 in Chicago, the wrecking6 of a train loaded with motor trucks, three dock fires in Brooklyn, and the partially7 suppressed account of an explosion on board a man-of-war in home waters, provided the public with its daily supply of pessimism8. Scores of alien suspects were seized, examined and interned9. Others were caught with “the goods,” so to speak, and were flung into prison to await, in most cases, the minimum penalty for maximum intentions. But at no time was the finger of accusing Justice levelled at any one of the men or women who made the wheels go round.
Late in the afternoon of a cold, blustering10 day a young man presented himself at the Carstairs home. He was a smart-looking, upstanding chap in the uniform of a captain of Infantry11. The new butler announced that Miss Hansbury was at home and was expecting Captain Steele.
You would go far before finding a manlier12, handsomer fellow than this young American soldier. Lithe13, and tall, and graceful14, he was every inch a man and a thoroughbred. Only a few months before, he had given up a splendid position down town, with a salary that few young men commanded and prospects15 that even fewer entertained, and eagerly offered himself, heart and soul, to the army that was to lift his country out of the pit of commercialism and give it a place among the proud.
He had won his sword and his shoulder straps16 with the ease of one who earnestly strives, and at the same time he had conquered in an enterprise sweetly remote from the horrors of war. Louise Hansbury, beautiful and gifted, was wearing the emblem17 of surrender on the third finger of her left hand.
He was to dine with the Carstairs that evening; as a privileged person, he came long ahead of the other guests of the evening. There was to be a distinguished18 company. A Cabinet officer, a prominent Southern Senator, an Admiral of the Navy, a Foreign Ambassador, to say nothing of more than one potentate19 in the realm of finance. And women whose names were not more widely-known than their deeds in these days of great endeavour,—women who had put aside frivolity20 and selfishness and social gluttony for the cold, hard business of making the country safe.
Mrs. Carstairs, herself, was the chairman of one of the most important of the Relief Organizations controlled and operated exclusively by women; far from being a mere21 figure-head, she was an active, zealous22 worker, an inspiration to her associates.
One of the guests of the evening was to be an Italian Countess whose labours in the war hospitals of her native land had made her one of the most conspicuous23 women in all Europe.
Louise Hansbury was the daughter of Davenport Carstairs’ only sister, now deceased. Since the death of her mother,—her father had died when she was a small child,—the girl had made her home with this adoring uncle. She possessed24 a somewhat meagre fortune,—sufficient to guarantee independence, however, if she chose to care for herself,—-a circumstance that would have excited resistance in Davenport Carstairs had it ever come up for discussion.
“How are you, dearest?” inquired the young officer, holding her off to look anxiously, searchingly into her eyes. The colour of health was just beginning to flow in her cheeks.
“Gorgeous,” she replied, her eyes agleam with love and happiness.
“Go slow,” he said gently. “Don’t tax yourself too much. It’s a serious job, this business of getting well.”
“But I am well, you goose. I never felt better in my life.”
“You never were more beautiful,” he said softly.
“I’d much rather hear you say that than something really serious,” she cried, smiling divinely into his dazzled eyes.
“You’ve had pneumonia,” he said sternly, after the moment it took to regain25 a temporarily lost air of authority. “Mighty sick you’ve been, darling,—and—”
“And I’m not to get my feet wet, or sit in a draft, or—Very good, Captain! Orders is orders, sir.” She stood off and saluted26 him with mock solemnity.
“I’m so glad you came early, Derrol,” she cried, abruptly27 abandoning her frivolous28 air. “I’ve—I’ve wanted you so much. This has been a long—oh, an age, dear. You knew that poor Hodges was killed by an automobile29, didn’t you? I never know what I put in my letters. And there is all this talk about Belgium being a nest of spies at the outset, and—oh, that would be too much. Sit here with me, Derrol, and—you might hold me close to you,—just for a little while. It—yes, it does give me strength to feel your arms about me.” After a few moments, the troubled look that had been lurking30 in his eyes for a long time, reappeared. A light frown clouded his brow. He glanced over his shoulder, and, when he spoke31, his voice was even lower than it had been before.
“Louise dear, something very strange and mysterious has happened. Don’t be alarmed, dear. It has turned out all right. But,—‘gad32, it might have resulted very seriously. Do you remember that I told you about ten days ago,—in this very room,—that I suspected a certain officer in our camp of being—well, crooked33?”
“Yes,—I remember quite well, Derrol. Is—is he?”
He smiled grimly. “That remains34 to be seen. I had observed one or two things about him that excited my suspicions, but I mentioned the matter to no one. The next day after I spoke to you about it, I decided35 to go to headquarters with my fears. As a matter of fact, by that time I really had something tangible36 to report. I was received by the general himself. He was dumbfounded. Instantly an investigation37 was started. The officer I mentioned was missing from camp. It was found that he had gone to New York the night before, but was expected back in the morning—just as I was. That was ten days ago. He has never returned. It has been proved beyond all question that he was a spy. There is no doubt in my mind that he got a tip while in New York, and beat it for parts unknown. Now the infernal part of the business is that I never mentioned my suspicions to a soul except to you,—never even breathed them outside of this room until the next day.”
She was staring at him in perplexity. “But—but, Derrol dear, what does it all mean? You—you certainly cannot think that I repeated—”
“Of course not, dear,—certainly not. I—”
“In the first place, I had not been outside the apartment,” she went on in suppressed excitement. “And I give you my word of honour that I did not mention the matter to a soul in this house. Not one word, Derrol. If you—”
“Calm yourself, Louise,” he urged, pressing her hands. “The chances are that he found out he was suspected before he left camp, and even as I was telling you he may have been on his way to safety. I have not told any one that I spoke of the matter here,—you may be quite sure of that. That would bring trouble and annoyance38 to you and—well, I couldn’t allow that, you know. Just the same, he has disappeared, completely, utterly39. He got the scent40 somehow, and didn’t lose a minute. Saved himself from facing a firing squad41, you may be sure. So far as we have been able to discover, I am the only man who knew that he was up to something wrong. That’s the maddening part of it. I—you see, I actually had the goods on him.”
“You looked over your shoulder just now, Derrol,” she said, the colour ebbing42 from her cheek. “Do you—do you suspect any one here? Any one of the servants? They have all been with us for years,—except poor Hodges, and he is dead,—and I know that Uncle Davenport trusts them implicitly43.”
He held her a little closer. His lips were close to her ear, and the half-whispered words were fraught44 with the deepest meaning.
“See here, Louise, it’s a desperately45 serious thing to say,—and I know I’m a fresh, half-baked upstart, and all that sort of thing,—but I just can’t help feeling that if I hadn’t spoken of that matter here last week, we would have nabbed Mr. Spy practically red-handed.”
“Oh, Derrol!” she whispered, aghast. “You don’t know what you are saying.”
“It’s the way I feel, just the same,” said he stubbornly.
“Then you do think the warning came from this house?” She attempted to withdraw herself from his arms.
“God bless you, darling,—I don’t think it came from you, or in any way through you,” he cried miserably46.
“Then, whom do you suspect?” she demanded.
“It might have been Hodges,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked away from her.
“But Hodges was an Englishman, and violently anti-German. It couldn’t have been Hodges.”
“In any event, he’s dead and can’t defend himself,” said he. “I trust you, dearest, not to repeat a word of what I’ve just been saying,—not a word to any one.”
“You are very foolish, Derrol,—but I promise. Not even to Uncle Davenport or Aunt Frieda. They would be shocked beyond words if they knew you—”
“That’s right, dear,—not even to Mr. or Mrs. Carstairs,—or that bustling47 young son of theirs.”
“It would be far more sensible to suspect me than either of them,” she said.
A latch48-key turned in the front door, and a moment later young Alfred Carstairs came whistling into the hall.
“Hullo!” he called out, peering in upon them from the dimly lighted hallway. He was shedding his overcoat. “How’s the camp, Derrol? Getting into shape?”
“Getting shapelier every minute,” said Derrol Steele, crossing over to shake hands with the youth.
“Where’s mother?” inquired Alfred, looking over the officer’s shoulder at his cousin, who had not risen.
“Lying down, Alfie. She has been on the go all day. Much beauty is required for this evening. She’s giving it a chance to catch her napping.”
“By golly, it’s the only thing that ever does catch her napping,” said Alfred warmly. “She’s a wonder, Derrol. She’d be a field-marshal if she ever got into the army.”
“I haven’t the least doubt of it,” said Captain Steele, smiling. Even as he uttered the jesting words, a strange, uncanny sense of their importance took root in his mind.
Very serious topics were discussed by the guests at Mrs. Carstairs’ dinner that evening. No one felt the least restraint, nor the slightest hesitancy in speaking freely of matters that never were mentioned in the open. Questions that could not have been answered outside the most secret recesses49 of the State department were frankly50 asked here,—and answered by some one who spoke with authority. No man feared his neighbour, nor his neighbour’s wife, for here were assembled only those to whom the Government itself could look with confidence. These were the people on the inside of everything, the spokes51 of the inner wheel,—the people who knew what was going on in Washington, in London, and in Paris. No alien ears were here to listen, no alien eyes to watch; sanctuary52 for the true and loyal.
One man there held his tongue, and spoke not of the things that were vital: Captain Derrol Steele. It was not modesty53 alone that kept him silent in this imposing54 group, nor the recognition of his own insignificance55. He had had his lesson. He was young enough to profit by it.
True, the wine may have had something to do with it. It usually does. A beguiling56 lubricant is this thing that gets into the rustiest57 of brains and produces a smooth combination of thought and thoughtlessness. In any case, tongues wagged loosely and wits were never keener than in this atmosphere of ripe security. A good many secrets were out for an airing. They were supposed, in good time, to get back into their closets and lie there as snugly58 as if they had never been disturbed.
Mrs. Carstairs was never more brilliant than on this particular evening. Always clever,—but never witty,—she was at her best when surrounded by personalities59 such as these; when confronted by problems which permitted her profound mentality60 to rise to its highest level and her singularly clear-headed vision to project itself across spaces that defy even the most far-seeing of men. She went below the surface of everything; she saw nothing from a superficial point of view. What men liked in her, and what other women envied and sometimes hated, was the rare faculty61 of saying little unless she was prepared to say a great deal more.
More than one great statesman had said, on occasion, that it was too bad she wasn’t a man! With a mind like that, well, there’s no telling! No wonder Davenport Carstairs was proud of her!
And yet, with all this unstinted praise, with all this respectful admiration62, there was not a man among them who would have exchanged places with Davenport Carstairs. Despite her beauty, her no uncertain charm of manner, her strangely old-fashioned femininity, no man coveted63 her. As a matter of fact, they were a little bit awed64 by Frieda Carstairs.
The foreign ambassador was leaving early. He explained to his hostess that a very important conference was to be held that night in his rooms at the hotel. He was profoundly apologetic, but if she knew how much depended on the outcome of this very, very important meeting,—and so on, and so on. She said she understood perfectly65; affairs of state, she went on to say, always lead up to a state of affairs, and that, of course, was hopeless unless taken in time.
He was a little bewildered. Fearing that she had not fully66 grasped his meaning, he proceeded to elaborate a little. It wasn’t really a state of affairs, nor, for that matter, an affair of state. Time, of course,—yes, time was the essence of everything in these bitter days. She was quite right; the whole trouble with the Allies had been the wasting of time; now they realized the importance of doing things promptly67. She said she was glad that they were not letting the grass grow under their feet. He mumbled68 something about winter and the nothing much growing outside the tropics, and floundered with further confidences.
Leaning quite close to her he whispered something in her ear. It left her perfectly calm.
“This, you understand, my dear madam, is not to be repeated,—strictly confidential,—absolutely—ah—on the quiet, as you say over here.”
“I sha’n’t even repeat it to my husband,” said she.
The ambassador looked relieved. “I fear he would not approve of my mentioning a matter that he seems to have withheld69 from you himself.”
She smiled.
“Possess your soul in peace, my dear Ambassador. I am as good as he at keeping a secret.”
“It is—ah—most imperative70 that this shouldn’t—ah—get out, so to speak,” said he, wishing in his soul that he had not let it out himself.
“You have spoken to the Sphinx,” said she gravely.
She happened to glance down the table at this juncture71. Something hypnotic drew her gaze directly to Captain Steele. He was regarding her steadily72. There was a queer, intent look in his eyes. For an instant their gaze held, and then he looked away. She turned to speak to the man on her left. If he had been an observing person, he would have noticed the tired look that suddenly clouded her eyes,—briefly, fittingly, it is true, but remaining long enough to have been detected by one less absorbed in himself than he. No doubt his pride would have been hurt had he observed it.
The little Italian Countess spoke very frankly of conditions in her country, of specific needs that called for immediate73 action on the part of the American government, of plots and counterplots in the very heart of the army, of political and ecclesiastical intrigue74 that sapped the courage of the people, and of the serious situation on the Isonzo where victorious75 Italian armies were in constant danger of collapse76 because of an utter lack of support from behind the lines. She went so far as to say that in the event of a supreme77 assault by the Austro-Germans, the Italian armies would have to relinquish78 their hard-earned gains and fall back,—perhaps in actual defeat.
“But the Austrians are down and out themselves.” declared the cabinet member. He spoke loudly, for he was at the far end of the table. “They haven’t a good solid kick left in them, much less anything like a supreme assault, Countess.”
“Let us hope you are right,” returned the Italian woman, the line deepening between her eyes. “I only know that the Italians are in no condition to withstand a great offensive if it should come. Oh, if only England, and France,—and you, gentlemen,—could but be made to realize the importance of a real victory over the Austrians,—if you could only be made to see how desperately we are in need of all the support you can give us in men, and guns, and food, and—aye, in confidence, too. If the German Emperor knew the truth about our position on the Isonzo and in Trentino, he—ah, he would not wait, he would not hesitate. He would move like lightning. He would send a million men to the aid of the Austrians. He would strike with all his might,—and then, when it was all over, you,—all of you,—would grate your teeth while he laughed over another of your blunders.”
The men all smiled tolerantly. She was a woman. That was just the way a high-strung, emotional woman would talk.
“It would be quite simple, Countess,” said Davenport Carstairs, “if the Kaiser had even half a million men to spare. He is being kept pretty busy in France and Flanders just now.”
“Ah, but in Russia,” she cried vehemently79. “What of the damned Russians?” In her excitement she spoke the language of the army. Of her hearers, the men seemed a little more shocked than the women. “Are they keeping him pretty busy? No! Are they holding his vast armies in check? No! They are doing more than that. They are shoving him back, driving him and all of his men and guns out of Russia. Driving them down into Italy and over to Flanders, that is what they are doing. And you,—you and France and England,—will not wake up until it is too late. When the beastly Russians have driven the Germans into Paris, and across the English Channel, and down to Rome, then you will understand.”
“But the Italians will hold the ground they have gained,” protested one of the men. “I talked with members of the commission before they sailed the other day, and there wasn’t one of them who expressed the slightest uneasiness about the Italian front. On the other hand, they were of the opinion that the Italians would continue to advance. The Austrians are shot to pieces.”
“Italy was not represented in that secret mission, my dear sir,” said the Countess, a trifle curtly80. “You do not know what the Italians know, and what they are actually dreading82. They know they cannot resist a great offensive.”
“Well, as long as the Germans are ignorant of the true state of affairs, I can’t see that there is much to worry about,” said Carstairs pleasantly.
“But the Germans will not remain in ignorance for ever, Mr. Carstairs,” exclaimed the Countess. “They find out everything,—everything, in time.”
“Not everything,” said the Admiral of the navy, blandly83. “Their marvellous spy system failed completely in the case of the Franco-British special mission. The members of the party came, remained here for more than a fortnight, sailed for home last week, and Germany never had so much as an inkling of the visit. By this time the Campion is no doubt safely through the danger zone. I call that beating the devil with his own stick.”
“The Campion?” fell sharply from the lips of Mrs. Carstairs.
“You are mistaken, Admiral. They sailed on the Elston,” said her husband.
The Admiral beamed. “My dear sir, the entire party was transferred to the Campion ten hours after the Elston sailed out of this port. The Secretary took no chances. He had that devilish Kitchener betrayal in mind. There was the possibility, you know, of a leak somewhere. One never can tell. So everything that could be thought of was done to frustrate84 the ‘system.’ The destruction of the Elston with those men on board would have been a greater disaster to the Allies than the loss of Kitchener or half the battle front in France. I happen to know the transfer was made safely and according to plans. The Elston continued her voyage in convoy85, but she was laden86 with nothing more precious than food for the Germans.”
“Food for the Germans?” cried the Italian Countess, aghast.
The Admiral’s smile broadened. “The most indigestible food that is made in America,” said he. After a moment’s perplexity, she smiled and clapped her hands.
Once more Mrs. Carstairs’ gaze was drawn87 irresistibly88 to the young captain half way up the table. His eyes were fixed89 on her again, and again, as before, after an instant they were averted90. Something in his steady look seared her like a hot iron. He seemed to be searching the innermost recesses of her brain,—and she quailed91. His face grew suddenly pale and drawn,—paler even than her own.
The Admiral, having come sharply into prominence92, continued to play his high cards. He leaned back in his chair, neglecting a dessert of which he was especially fond, and with considerable bumptiousness93 rambled94 on sonorously95.
“We’ve been expecting word all day from Admiral Sims. The convoy is a swift one. Both the Campion and the Elston should reach port today,—or at the very latest tomorrow. I confess we’ve all been anxious. They are wiring me from Washington as soon as—By the way, Mrs. Carstairs, I took the liberty of instructing my aide to telephone me here in case the report comes tonight. Hope you don’t mind. I thought—”
“Of course I don’t mind, Admiral,” she said warmly. “On the contrary, I am glad you thought of it. We are all terribly interested.” Late in the evening,—in fact, just as the guests were preparing to depart,—the Admiral was called to the telephone. When he rejoined the group a few minutes afterward96, his expression was serious.
“Our precautions were well taken, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “The Elston was torpedoed97 this morning. Practically everybody on board was lost.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then Captain Steele spoke.
“So the Germans did know that the Commission sailed out of New York harbour on the Elston. It would seem, Admiral, that the spy sits pretty close to the head of your board,—I mean, of course, your board of strategy.”
“By Gad!” growled98 the distressed99 sailor-man. “It—it is absolutely incredible. There couldn’t have been a leak down there.”
“Have you an idea how many people actually knew that the party was sailing on the Elston?” inquired the young man. His face was very white.
The Admiral glanced around the room, rather helplessly. “Of course the fact was known to quite a number of people,—such as we are here,—but, what are we to do if we can’t trust ourselves? Nothing could have been more carefully guarded. Not a line in the newspapers, not a word uttered in public, not a——”
“The information could not have come from any one directly connected with the Navy department, Admiral,” said Steele slowly.
“I’m glad to hear you say that, sir,” said the Admiral, stiffening100.
“For the simple and obvious reason that it was the Elston and not the Campion they went after. A spy in such a position would have known of the transfer.”
“On the other hand, it may have been pure chance that they attacked the Elston,” said Davenport Carstairs, a queer huskiness in his voice. “Coincidence, and nothing more. Thank heaven, they didn’t get the Campion.”
Steele was the last to leave. He said good night to Louise Hansbury in the little hall outside. He had rung for the elevator. The door, on the latch, had been closed behind them and they were quite alone for a few minutes.
“Louise,” he said, and suddenly his voice,—scarcely more than a whisper,—sounded strange and unnatural101 to her, “it’s a horrible thing to say, but the—the trouble is right here in this house. You heard what the Admiral said? I can’t explain how it all happened, but suddenly I had a—well, a revelation. A great, flaring102 light seemed to flash in my face. I give you my word, it was actually blinding. I thought my heart would never beat again. I saw through everything. It is all as plain as day to me. God help us all, dearest,—it’s—it’s unspeakable. I’ve just got to tell you,—so that you may be on your guard. Tomorrow—or as soon as possible, at any rate,—you must make an excuse to get away from here,—for a visit, or anything you can think of. But get away you must!”
“Do you know what you are saying, Derrolf” she whispered, clutching his arm. She was trembling like a leaf, and swayed. An expression of the utmost dread81 and horror filled her eyes.
“Yes,—yes, I do. It is terrible,—but, by heaven, it’s true,—as true as we live and breathe.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Derrol,—I felt it too,—tonight. What are we to do? What can be done?”
“Hush! Here is the elevator. I can’t say anything more tonight. I don’t have to go back to Camp till tomorrow night. Tomorrow morning,—I’ll call up. I must see you alone—and not here.”
“I go out every morning for a walk,—about eleven,” she breathed.
The elevator door slid open.
“Good night,” said he. She clasped his hand in silence. Then she went back into the apartment, and, as one drugged, passed the drawingroom door and staggered down the hall toward her bedroom.
Mrs. Carstairs, alone in the drawing-room, saw the girl pass, and stepped quickly to the door.
“Louise, dear,—are you ill!” she called out.
“No,—Aunt Frieda. I—I’m all right. Good night.”
“Good night, dear. Sleep late.”
The door down the long hall closed softly, and Frieda Carstairs turned back into the drawingroom with a sigh. Her husband was looking over the night mail that had been piled on his desk in the study. She went in to him.
“I wonder if poor, dear Alfred is struggling with that abominable103 nightmare of his,” she said. “Really, Davenport, the boy is wearing himself out. I don’t see why physics should be so difficult for him.”
“They were difficult for me, my dear,” said he, looking up. Their eyes met, and she smiled gently, lovingly. He took her firm, steady hand and pressed it to his cheek..
“I think I’ll run in and shoo him off to bed. If only he wouldn’t smoke that dreadful pipe while he studies. He breathes nothing but smoke.”
“Doesn’t hurt him a bit,” said he. “They’ve got sheet-iron lungs, you see,—these sophomores104.”
She left him and went down to her son’s room. Carstairs was staring fixedly105, intently into space when she returned,—he knew not how long afterwards. He came out of his reverie with a start when she spoke to him from the door.
“Alfie is going out for a breath of fresh air,” she said. “It seemed to me his room was stuffier106 and smokier than I’ve ever known it to be before. Really, dear, he is dreadfully trying. He—”
“My dear, you’ve never been a boy,” said he, collecting himself and smiling. “You don’t know what it is to be completely self-satisfied.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” said Alfred, coming up behind his mother. “Are you going to sit up much longer, mother?”
“A little while. Hurry back, dear. Don’t go out without your overcoat. There is quite a chill in the air.”
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succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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brazenly
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| adv.厚颜无耻地；厚脸皮地肆无忌惮地 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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wrecking
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| 破坏 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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pessimism
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| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
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interned
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| v.拘留，关押( intern的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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manlier
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| manly（有男子气概的）的比较级形式 | |
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lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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potentate
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| n.统治者；君主 | |
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frivolity
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| n.轻松的乐事，兴高采烈；轻浮的举止 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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29
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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30
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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31
spoke
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| 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 | |
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gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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33
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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37
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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38
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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39
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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40
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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41
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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spokes
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| n.（车轮的）辐条( spoke的名词复数 )；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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beguiling
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| adj.欺骗的，诱人的v.欺骗( beguile的现在分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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rustiest
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| 生锈的( rusty的最高级 )； 荒疏的 | |
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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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76
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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81
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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82
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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83
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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84
frustrate
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| v.使失望；使沮丧；使厌烦 | |
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85
convoy
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| vt.护送，护卫，护航；n.护送；护送队 | |
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86
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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87
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92
prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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93
bumptiousness
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94
rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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sonorously
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| adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；堂皇地；朗朗地 | |
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96
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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97
torpedoed
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| 用鱼雷袭击（torpedo的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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99
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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100
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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101
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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102
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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103
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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104
sophomores
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| n.（中等、专科学校或大学的）二年级学生( sophomore的名词复数 ) | |
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105
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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106
stuffier
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| adj.空气不好的( stuffy的比较级 )；通风不好的；（观点、举止）陈腐的；鼻塞的 | |
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