Smartly dressed, he was a handsome, even distinguished4-looking man. By name Leon Mangan, by occupation he was an art dealer5. He was returning to Town after a wasted and unprofitable journey to look at some pictures belonging to a man who had written giving an altogether misleading description of what he had to sell. He had found the pictures not worth buying and in consequence was in a bad temper at having been induced to travel so far for nothing.
Some two miles beyond the little town of Wells-by-the-Sea, meeting no one upon the way, he came in sight of a good-sized bungalow6 that had only the road between it and the muddy foreshore which, now at low water, stretched for a mile and more uncovered by the sea.
In his preoccupation becoming only all at once aware that his engine was running badly, he pulled up and alighted to see what was causing the trouble. To his annoyance7 he found the water was running low in his radiator8. With a curse at his carelessness he, however, congratulated himself that he was so near a habitation that things could soon be put right.
Driving up to the bungalow, he alighted again and walked up the short path of the little garden to the front door. Seeing no bell, he knocked briskly with his knuckles9 but getting no answer after a couple of minutes or so, he moved away to peer through the nearest window, the blinds of which were not drawn10, into what was evidently the living-room. The bungalow was certainly in use for upon the table he saw a dish of fruit with a large pineapple in the centre. Also, upon the sideboard, were a syphon, a spirit tantalus and some tumblers.
Proceeding11 round to the back of the bungalow, he came upon the expected tank of rain-water, but to his disgust could find no pail or other utensil12 with which to carry away the required water to his radiator. Proceeding to investigate a small garage at the far side of the little yard, he found the door was shut and securely fastened with a good Yale lock. Peering through the cracks of the door he saw the garage was empty.
With no luck at the back door, upon a scrutiny13 through a window which was evidently that of the kitchen, he saw exactly what he was looking for, a good-sized pail. Always of quick decisions and with never any scruples14 where other people’s property was concerned, he decided15 instantly to avail himself of its service.
Making his way back quickly to his car, he took a stout16 screw-driver and a tyre-lever from his tool-box and then, for a long minute, paused to take an intent look all round. Not a human being was to be seen anywhere. In both directions the road stretched empty and lonely along the shore and, with the tide such a long way out, a wide and unbroken sliminess lay between him and the sea. Behind the bungalow, the marsh2 lay desolate17 and unpathed as far as the eye could see.
“Hell!” he exclaimed disgustedly. “In what a foul18 place for anyone to have built a nice bungalow like this! The man who did it must be half out of his mind.”
Satisfied he was quite free from any interruption, he returned again to the back of the bungalow and, with the aid of his tools, very soon had the window open and was climbing into the kitchen. His first intention had been only to get the water he wanted, but, his curiosity being aroused by the up-to-date appointments of the kitchen, he proceeded to go through the other rooms of the bungalow. It was evident to him at once that the owner must be a man of some means, as all the appointments were comfortable and even luxurious20; good carpets upon all the floors, nothing cheap about any of the furniture, and the pieces of plate upon the sideboard in the dining-room were of sterling21 silver.
Pulling open the long drawer of the sideboard, he saw it was well stocked with spoons and forks, also of sterling silver, and his eyes sparkled and he drew in a deep breath as he realised in a flash what an opportunity for good profit lay before him. Why the stuff under his very eyes was worth a little mint of money and it was all his for the taking! A nice haul of easily negotiable articles!
There was no hesitation22 upon his part as to what he would do, and, making his way through the back door, he darted23 outside to have another searching look round.
No, as before, there was no sight of any human being and the surroundings of the bungalow could not have been more desolate than they were!
He proceeded to get into action at once.
First, to be all prepared, if need be, for a quick getaway he filled his radiator. Then, going back into the dining-room he helped himself to a generous four fingers of whisky. Its flavour was so agreeable that he guessed it was prewar spirit, and concluded once again that the owner of the bungalow must be well-to-do and in quite comfortable circumstances.
Next, not wasting any more time, he proceeded to gather together upon the table the things he was intending to take away, the two silver candlesticks, a dainty silver hot-water jug24 of solid silver and all the plate he found in the long sideboard drawer. His final acquisition was a massive silver snuff-box which he found lying upon the desk. A good judge of all things silver he knew at once that the snuff-box was of early Georgian days, and he reckoned confidently that it would fetch as much as a couple of hundred guineas in any good art saleroom. It was beautifully chased and, for the moment, he was so engrossed25 in admiring it that he did not hear soft tiptoeing footfalls in the passage. Indeed, a few seconds later he sensed rather than saw a movement by the door.
Turning as quickly as the strike of a snake, his disconcerted gaze took in a small and red-headed elderly man, glaring at him with blazing eyes and covering him with an upraised pistol.
“Up with your hands,” shouted the small man furiously. “Up with them like lightning, or I’ll shoot you in the stomach. Up with them, quick! My gun’s loaded. Quick!”
Mangan’s heart had almost stopped beating and his face gone an ashen26 grey. Added to a realisation of his dreadful position at being caught red-handed in an act of shameful27 theft had come the almost stupefying feeling of amazement29 at recognising the man who was now threatening him with his pistol. He was a Professor Harleck Glenowen whom he had but recently met when dining in the company of some aristocratic friends. That the recognition, however, was not mutual30 he was quite sure, as they had met only once and, also, his (Mangan’s) motoring cap, as he always wore it, was now pulled down well over his forehead, thus obscuring a good part of his face.
The devil! In his tranquil31 moments, even, this professor of most eccentric views had the reputation of being half mad, with all his cleverness only in part responsible for his actions. So now, in his present state of fury and excitement, if there was the slightest hesitation in complying with his order he might pull upon the trigger at once.
Cursing viciously under his breath, but rather than of all things receive a bullet in his stomach — he had seen plenty of such injuries in the Great War — Mangan’s hands went up instantly.
“Now turn and face the wall,” was the next order given in a snarling32 sternness, “and any tricks, mind you, and I’ll put a bullet in your spine33.” The professor stuttered in his rage. “You damned thug, I’ll be only too glad of the excuse.”
A long minute’s silence followed while the professor recovered his breath. “Got a gun on you?” he asked hoarsely34. “But of course you have! Now you keep still. I’m going to search you.”
Mangan thought it wisest to continue to keep silent, and breathing hard and pressing the muzzle35 of his pistol firmly against the middle of his captive’s back, the professor with his disengaged hand proceeded methodically to go through every pocket.
“Ha, ha, the gun, as I expected!” he exclaimed gleefully as he drew out a small automatic. “A modern highwayman, are you, and up-to-date Charles Duval?” His voice rose in disgust. “And a knuckle-duster, too! Then you’re worse than a highwayman, you are a murdering thug.”
Coming upon the silver snuff-box in one of the side pockets of Mangan’s jacket, he gave him a couple of vicious kicks in the legs. “You devil, and I so prized that, too!” He thrust his pistol harder than ever into Mangan’s back. “A bigger blackguard even than you, my friend,” he snarled36, “has had his fingers in that box, as it belonged once to that arch scoundrel, Napoleon.”
The search was soon over and, the contents of all Mangan’s pockets laid out upon the table, he was next ordered to drop one hand at a time and unbutton his braces37. “And you won’t be able to run far, will you, you blackguard thief,” sneered38 the professor, “with your trousers falling down? Now, I’ll just put the table between us and you shall turn round and take off your cap, so that I can have a good look at you.” He grinned sardonically39. “This is the first time that, to my knowledge, I have had the experience of meeting a bona-fide thief.”
A few moments later and the two men stood face to face. It might have been thought that the so smartly-dressed Mangan would have appeared overwhelmed in shame, first at having been caught red-handed as a thief, and now at being in the humiliating position at having to hold up his trousers to keep them from falling down his legs. On the contrary, however, his expression was a cold and disdainful one, and it was with contempt rather than anything else with which he regarded his captor. As for the latter — a quick hard stare and his face was frozen into an incredulous surprise.
For long moments neither of them spoke41, and then the professor gasped42, “Major Mangan, the dashing D.S.O.! The man I met at Blackarden Castle! The bosom43 friend of young Avon, Lord Delamarne’s heir! God, it can’t be true!” His voice rose to a shriek45. “But it is, you gentlemanly blackguard, and so this is how you make your living, is it? Oh, you common, vulgar thief.”
In his thirtieth year, Major Leon Sylvester Mangan, decorated with the Distinguished Service Order and at one time attached to a crack commando unit, was as gentlemanly a blackguard as it was possible to meet. A product thrown up by the licence and savagery47 of the second great war, he was without morals and with no scruples whatsoever48. A veritable bird of prey49 in the good social world in which he moved, he was the more dangerous to the community because of his pleasing appearance and charming manners. Everyone always took to him at once. He was always well dressed in excellent taste.
The only son of a country doctor he had been sent to good schools and then on to Oxford50 University. To the great disappointment of his father, after his two years’ residence he had come down without taking any degree. With an intelligence much above the ordinary, he could easily have distinguished himself had he so wished, but it was just that he seemed interested in nothing but sport and gambling51.
Early in his ‘Varsity days he had become mixed up with a fast sporting set of much greater means than his and, at once realising that he would not be able to keep pace with them upon the very moderate allowance he received from his father, he set about increasing his income in the only way he knew of, and that was his undoubted proficiency52 at cards.
He had always been good at all card games, but in his late schooldays when playing “ha’penny nap” or indeed any game where money was involved, because of his well-known cleverness at sleight53 of hand, was never allowed to shuffle54 the pack or deal the cards. He took it all in good part and considered it a great joke, complaining, however, with a grin that it was not fair to so cramp55 his style. Surely, he would argue humorously, he deserved some reward for the amount of time he gave to the practice of his speciality.
Going up to Oxford, he did not think it necessary to mention this little hobby of his to any of his card-playing friends. He must mind his step most carefully he told himself, as he was not playing with schoolboys now! He smiled to himself — still it might come in useful one day.
With the ideal temperament for a gambler, cool, collected and never losing his head, he was soon recognised by his fellow undergraduates as one of the best and most daring card players among them. Indeed, at poker56, his favourite game, after a thick evening, particularly when the stakes had been high, it was good odds57 upon his having come out a winner.
Giving frequent little parties at his rooms, with plenty of drink always available, they were invariably well attended. As time went on, however, though there was never any suspicion of foul play against him, the opinion began gradually to be formed that these evenings were in the way of being most expensive ones for any but the most cautious and experienced players.
Something little short of a scandal occurred once when a young freshman58 lost nearly ￡300, with most of it going to his host. Still it was agreed by all who had been present then that Mangan himself was in no way to blame, as he had repeatedly warned the young fellow of his recklessness, and several times had expressed the wish of withdrawing from any further play.
His years at the ‘Varsity ended, he was such a long while without attempting to settle down to any occupation that at last he had exhausted59 both his father’s patience and the money the latter was prepared to spend upon him. After an angry quarrel with the very disappointed doctor, he left the parental61 roof with a final ￡20 in his pocket to make his way in life as best he could.
Right from the very beginning intending to do no really hard work, a worrying time followed for him, with his trying one occupation after another with no success. Certainly his nice manners and well-dressed appearance had landed for him straightaway a position in a good-class book shop in the West End, but he had only stuck to it for a few weeks and then with no notice to his employer, had not turned up on the Monday morning. After that he did a short time of assurance work, sold books upon commission, worked as a clerk to a bookmaker and finally was engaged in a little second-hand62 art and curiosity shop in Wardour Street. He came to apply for the position there upon seeing a card in the window notifying that a young man of good address was wanted as an assistant and, as he had no references to produce, was rather surprised at being taken on. However, the proprietor63, Marcus Wardale, an easy-going and scholarly-looking man, appeared to be quite satisfied when Mangan told him he had been an undergraduate at Oxford for two years, and engaged him on the spot. The salary was only fifty shillings a week, just enough for him to live in the poorest way in the East End.
The work was very easy and consisted mainly in dusting the old-looking furniture and odds and ends of miscellaneous articles scattered64 untidily about the shop. Added to that, Mangan was often left in charge to delay any customers who came in from leaving before his employer returned from the many little ‘business matters’ which were continually taking him off for a few minutes during the day. Mangan, however, was soon of the opinion these journeys necessitated65 him going no farther than the nearest public-house, as he invariably smelt66 of spirits when he returned.
Another thing Mangan soon learnt was that the business done in the shop could not possibly be paying for the overhead expenses and even the small salary he himself was receiving. Very few customers came in, and often the day’s takings could not have amounted to more than a few shillings. Considering all this, he suddenly realised the real money was being earned in the little room at the back of the shop, and that sellers and not buyers were the mainstay of his employer’s business.
Almost everybody with anything to sell was taken into this little room, the door was shut and sometimes it was many minutes before the seller came out again. Also, he noticed that whatever transactions had taken place there, very rarely was any new article exposed in the shop for resale. Instead, his employer would find it necessary to go out at once upon one of these mysterious little business matters, though then he was absent for much longer than it would take him to go to the public house.
One afternoon after one of the proceedings67, to his great surprise Wardale presented him with a ten-shilling note, “See here,” he said with a knowing smile, “if you are ever asked any questions about any of the customers who have dropped in, you’ve to say you’ve never seen them before.” He winked68 again. “You understand?”
Mangan pocketed the note with a grin. “All right,” he said. “You can trust me. No one will get anything out of me, I promise you.”
After that his employer gradually became much more confiding69. “In this kind of business,” he explained, “to make things pay we have occasionally to buy little odds and ends that it wouldn’t do for the police to know about. Some of these chaps who come to me have picked up little trifles and I don’t enquire70 too closely how they came to get them.” He laughed. “Then, of course, I don’t enter the transaction in my book and the police have no hold upon me. Oh, yes, they come and inspect the books sometimes and, once or twice, the blackguards have even made a search of everything here. That’s why I never keep things bought in that way long upon the premises71.”
It was well his employer had so confided72 in Mangan, as shortly after this conversation, there was a brush with the police about a silver Queen Anne comfit box which they alleged73 Wardale had bought and, knowing quite well it was ‘stolen goods,’ had not entered the transaction into his purchase book. They declared the man who had sold it to him was a well-known bad character and had been recognised, when entering the shop, by someone who knew him.
Confronted with the suspect, who also strenuously74 denied the transaction, both the dealer and Mangan swore they had never set eyes upon him before. In consequence of these denials the police were unable to lay a charge against Wardale and were furious about it, because they were certain that in him they had found the ‘fence’ they had long been wanting to get into their hands. Mangan was delighted about the whole business and in his unsocial leanings had thought it great sport to back up his employer in his untruths.
With complete trust now in his assistant, Wardale at once raised his weekly wage to ￡5 and from then on there was not much about the transactions in the little shop about which he was kept in the dark. He was astonished at the amount of money which changed hands in the backroom in the buying of articles which had undoubtedly75 been stolen, and realised what a profitable business it was as long as one managed to get away with it.
He learnt it was well-known in the underworld that Wardale specialised in the buying of articles of old silver and that he was recognised as something of an authority in estimating their value. Mangan found out, too, that, apart from the good profits he made, as a conniosseur his employer delighted in handling beautiful things and was always sorry that he could keep so many of them in his possession for only such a short time. He tried, too, and not without success, to interest Mangan in all things silver, and, after any special deal in the back room, would call him in and explain what had made his purchase good-buying. Also, he lent him books upon the subject and was at all times most willing to pass on to him his expert knowledge.
Upon some days, too, when there was an art sale on anywhere within easy distance, the shop would be shut for a few hours, and the two of them would go to watch the bidding. The dealer would have marked upon the catalogue, beforehand, what price he thought certain articles would fetch, and Mangan found that he was never very much out in his reckonings.
Altogether Mangan was not unhappy in his occupation and made up his mind that one day he would take it on himself. However, when he had been at the shop for about eighteen months, the Great War started and, to his employer’s regret, he left him at once to take his part in it. He realised it was the very calling he was fitted for and would give opportunity to his bold and reckless disposition76, with no real hard work and certainly no sense of boredom77. As a one-time Oxford University man, he was at once taken for a commission and so it was as Lieutenant78 Mangan he took part in the real fighting in France.
Efficient in every way, resourceful, brave to the point of recklessness and unmindful of all danger, he made an ideal soldier, and his promotion79 was rapid. Transferred with his regiment80 to take part in the African campaign and obtaining his captaincy, he was awarded the D.S.O. for conspicuous81 gallantry when, single-handed he wiped out a machine-gun nest with hand grenades.
The African campaign over, he volunteered to help the Resistance Movement in France and was dropped there by parachute. With a fair knowledge of the language, he speedily became the leader of a little band of patriots82 who operated from a hiding-place deep in the Auvergne Mountains. Time after time they would come down from their fastness and, long after night had fallen, with bullets, hand grenades, and their long razor-sharp knives deal out bloody83 punishment to the German soldiery.
Appearing unexpectedly in so many widely-separated places, they became known as “The Shadow Band” and many ineffectual attempts were made to trap them. Greatly daring, upon occasions they would work in only twos and threes and then make their way in the dead of night into the very heart of a town occupied in good force by the enemy. The next morning when it was discovered the ghastly things that had happened a veritable wave of terror would sweep through the Germans.
In his sheer lust84 for slaughter85, no one was more brave and reckless than Mangan, and one story in particular was related of him. The Commandant of a certain district had become noted86 for his bestial87 treatment of anyone, man, woman or child upon whom had fallen the slightest suspicion of having supplied information to the partisans89. His long suit was torturing little children before their parents’ eyes.
It was resolved that he should die, but, well aware of the hatred90 in which he was held and the threat of a bloody death for ever hanging over him, the utmost precautions were being taken that no suspicious person should get even within shooting distance of him.
Weighing up all the chances, Mangan finally decided that he would carry out the execution himself, unaided and alone.
The Commandant had his headquarters in an old chateau91 situated92 in a big garden encircled by a high wall and, day and night, sentries93 were posted within a few yards of one another all round. To guard against all possible chances of treachery from inside, every night all the servants were dismissed to sleep in their own homes in the town. Then the doors were securely locked and bolted, and the iron shutters94 to every window screwed tightly into their positions. Nothing to make everything secure was left undone95 and the Commandant and the three members of his staff who slept in the chateau with him were confident no trouble would ever ensue.
Yet one morning the door had to be broken down to get into the chateau and, to everyone’s horror and amazement, it was found the four inmates96 had all been killed during the night, with their throats cut from ear to ear. They had been slaughtered97 in their sleep, and the Germans never found out how the slayers had first got into the chateau and then, with their dreadful work accomplished98, had managed to get away.
In telling the story afterwards, Mangan, who to his credit was never boastful, never disclosed to outsiders that he himself had been the actual killer99. Indeed, he used to say that he only related the story to bring home to his listeners the profound execration100 in which the occupying German army was held by the French peasantry wherever the soldiers were stationed.
When asked, as of course he always was, how the killers101 had succeeded in getting into the chateau, he would relate how very simple it had been. “The Boches were so loathed,” he would reply, “that French parents were even willing to risk their so-loved little children in the ghastly spirit of revenge.” So, one of the servants who worked in the chateau, during the day, he would go on to relate, actually smuggled102 in her small daughter, only twelve years old, and hid her under the coal in a big cellar. Then, at night when all the chateau had quietened down, she climbed up on to the coal and pulled away the bar which held in place the large iron cover through which it was customary to pour in the coal from outside. Then one man, only one, he would emphasise103, but he a most experienced killer, crept in from the garden where he had been hiding all day under a sack and finished off the inmates one by one, without awakening104 any of them.
Such was the story Mangan used to tell. He did not, however think it necessary to add that he had come away from the chateau that night with a nice little haul of booty taken off the dead men, including the Commandant’s very valuable gold chronometer105 which was disposed of later in London for three hundred guineas.
The war ended and as Major Mangan now, with nothing better in sight, with his gratuity106 and some money he had saved, he bought himself in very cheaply as partner in the little second-hand shop in Wardour Street and, with his naturally strong character strengthened ten-fold by his war experiences, at once took command of everything.
His one-time employer was quite happy about it. Whisky had frayed107 his nerves almost down to breaking-point and he was very glad for anyone to do his thinking for him. So he just allowed Mangan to do what he liked, and the latter’s changes in the conducting of the business were very thorough.
Calling the shop now the Etoile D’Argent after a famous Parisian one in the Rue44 de Rivoli, he had it entirely108 redecorated in an attractive style. Next, he got rid of all the old junk that had been lying about for years, and started to restock with things bought at country sales. There, he bought very cautiously at first, but, by closely following the bidding of other dealers109 and by making friends of some of them by asking their advice, he quickly began to acquire a good knowledge of the trade.
With those who furtively110 brought articles to the shop when there was all appearance of their having been dishonestly acquitted111, he adopted a friendly as well as a business-like attitude. When he and his partner had decided what they would pay he would say firmly, “That’s all we are prepared to give you now, but if you call back, say in a week’s time, and we find we have realised more than we expected — then there’ll be a bit more for you,” and the sellers would go away quite assured that they were being treated fairly.
Making good money now, Mangan lived the life of a man about Town, with his friends and acquaintances apparently112 knowing nothing of the Wardour Street shop and believing him to be a man of independant means. His D.S.O. gave him something of a high standing113 among them, bringing as it did the right of entry into the Royal Enclosure at Ascot. Sponsored by former brother officers, he joined two quite good clubs. There, as in his old Oxford days, he found he could hold his own with anyone at cards and was as good a player as the best of them. Always a good judge of character, too, he knew when it was safe to do a little manipulating with the cards, and his clubs became a source of good income to him.
Acquiring a small but well-appointed flat in Fitzroy Square, he took to giving small card parties there, and it was pretty certain that he would come out in the right side if only in a small amount. As far as his own gains were concerned, he took care the same man never lost a good sum to him more than once.
This then was the man whom Professor Glenowen was now abusing with every unpleasant word he could lay his tongue to. “And did you hope I shouldn’t recognise you, you blackguard?” he sneered. “Was that why you were keeping so quiet?”
“Certainly not,” said Mangan coolly, “I would have told you at once who I was if you had not been so ready with your talk about my stomach and your gun. You were so excited that if I had interrupted you with a word you might have shot me out of hand.”
“And I almost wish I had now,” snarled the professor. His eyes glared. “You would have shot me, wouldn’t you, if you could have got in first?”
Mangan looked contemptuous. “Not for those few bits of stuff I was going to take. Do you think I’d have been such a fool as to commit murder for a few spoons and forks?”
“But you told us all openly in those tales the other night at Blackarden Castle,” snapped the professor, “that killing114 had been your trade for so long in the war that you often felt you wanted to return to it.”
Mangan shook his head frowningly. “That was only a joke, an after dinner joke when I’d had plenty of champagne115.” He spoke persuasively116. “See here, Professor Glenowen, I know I was doing a dreadful thing in going to steal your silver and I’m thoroughly117 ashamed of myself. My only excuse is, and it’s a very poor one, it was a sudden temptation on the spur of the moment. I was badly needing water for my radiator and couldn’t find any pail to carry it to my car. Then I saw one through the kitchen window and climbed in to get it. I swear to you that I had no other thought in my mind. Still, I became curious about the other rooms and wandered in here.” He shrugged118 his shoulders. “I saw the silver. I was tempted119 — and I fell.” He spoke earnestly. “As I say, I know it was a dreadful thing to do — me, an old Oxford University man and one who held his Majesty’s commision in the war.”
“And that’s the tale you’ll tell the police, is it?” scoffed120 the professor. “Well, it’s not likely to help you much.” He spoke sharply. “What’s your occupation — if you have any other occupation than the one I’ve caught you in today?”
“An art-dealer,” replied Mangan. “I buy and sell anything valuable —” he smiled a cold smile, “— including all things silver.”
The professor pointed60 to the pistol and the knuckleduster upon the table. “And these, I suppose,” he asked grimly, “are the appliances you make use of in your calling?”
“Not necessarily,” replied Mangan coolly, “but as most of my buying is done away from my place of business I often carry good sums in banknotes and, in these after-war days I have to be prepared for anything.”
“You didn’t know I had a bungalow here?” asked the professor eyeing him very intently.
Mangan shook his head. “No, I understand you lived in Town.”
The professor frowned. “Then I suppose you know all about me? You had heard of me before we met at Lord Delamarne’s?”
“Certainly, I had,” agreed Mangan, who judged rightly that Glenowen was not averse121 to a little flattery. “Everyone knows about you. You are a well-known Communist and wrote that letter to The Times a little while ago, suggesting that anyone who shot those German scientists who have been brought out here by our Government to help make the atom-bomb would be quite justified122 in doing so. You said it would be an act of service to all humanity.” He nodded. “I agree with you. The atom-bomb should be outlawed123.”
The professor looked thoughtful. “And you would shoot that Carl von Bressen and Otto Kernstein if you got the chance?”
“Shoot them as I would mad dogs,” scowled125 Mangan, “if I could be sure of doing it without being caught. I’d shoot any German. I saw too much of their vile126 work when I was fighting with the Resistance Movement in France. They were inhuman127 beasts to any partisan88 they got hold of.”
The sounds of a motor were heard in the distance and they both stopped speaking. A car came by the window slowing down, and it could be heard passing into the yard. Mangan’s eyes opened to their widest and his jaw128 dropped.
“Don’t faint,” said the professor, looking very amused at Mangan’s obvious uneasiness. “It isn’t the police, only my man who’s returned from an errand —” he smiled a grim smile as excited barks were heard in the passage “— and here’s a friend of mine who would like to make your acquaintance.”
A fierce-looking Alsatian burst into the room. “To heel, Pluto129,” shouted the professor peremptorily130. “To heel, I tell you. Come here,” and the big animal who, upon catching131 sight of Mangan, had bared his teeth and started to growl132 savagely133, with obvious reluctance134 sidled up to his master and squatted135 at his feet.
The professor pocketed his own pistol, and swept Mangan’s and the knuckle-duster off the table in a drawer in the desk. “You can do up your trousers,” he said sharply, “but be very careful what you do and don’t make any quick movement, as it might bring the dog upon you at once. Pluto is always savage46 with strangers.” He looked mockingly at Mangan. “And how much of those adventures of yours in France you told us about that night when I met you at Blackarden Castle were really true?”
“Every word of them,” replied Mangan with some indignation. “There was no need to exaggerate or lie. We were killers, every one of us, and as fierce and savage as any beast of the jungle ever is.”
“But my opinion is that you’re a coward,” said the professor sharply. “You went as white as a ghost just now when this dog of mine came into the room.”
“And was that to be wondered at?” snapped Mangan, furious at being so insulted by this insignificant-looking little man. “I am unarmed and he looks as dangerous a brute136 as I’ve ever met.” He gritted137 his teeth savagely. “But give me my jacket over my left arm and my long commando knife in my right hand —” he looked contemptuous —“and I’ll slit138 him open from midriff to stern as quick as you can see. I’ve killed scores such as he without getting a scratch.”
“Oh, you have, have you?” commented the professor as if in some doubt. He regarded Mangan thoughtfully. “And it was you then who cut the throat of that German Commandant you told us about,” he asked, “as well as those of his staff?”
“It was,” replied Mangan curtly139. “I don’t boast about it, as things like that were all in our day’s work. It was adventure and sport to us.”
“And would be again?” queried140 the professor.
Mangan nodded. “I expect so, if those times ever come back again.”
The professor seemed to have come to some resolution. “Well, I’ll put you to the test, my fine cock-sparrow,” he said grimly, “and just see the stuff you’re really made of.” He pointed to the silver upon the table. “Put those spoons and forks back where you found them. My man will be in in a minute or two to lay lunch and I hope I may have the pleasure of your company.”
Mangan could not believe his ears. “Have lunch with you?” he queried. “Then ——”
“I’m overlooking that little matter of your lapse,” nodded the professor, “and, except for your pistol which I’ll retain for the present, you can put back the other things into your pockets. Yes, we’ll have lunch together.” He spoke in a half smiling and half sneering141 tone, “And if you are as competent and fearless as you make yourself out to be, you will be delighted at the very thought of a project I am going to put before you.”
A minute or so later a big and hefty man not unlike a prize-fighter in appearance came into the room. He gave Mangan a hard, long stare before proceeding to lay the table. A short conversation in Welsh proceeded between him and his master and then the latter turned to Mangan.
“Now if you happen to like them, Mr. Brown,” he said, rubbing his hands as gleefully as a little child, “I can give you a great treat, jellied eels142. Have you ever tasted them?”
“Can’t say I have,” replied Mangan. “Are they good?”
“Excellent!” exclaimed the professor. “To my thinking they have a flavour every bit as good as that of the turbot. After the eels there’ll be a cold duck.” He laughed. “It’s funny, isn’t it, that the three filthiest143 feeders in the world, the pig, the duck and the eel28 should all have the most delicate flavour of their kind? Nothing can excel the delicacy144 of their flesh and its flavour is wholly individual.”
Mangan felt altogether stupified at what was happening. Only such a few minutes before he had been within an ace19 of having a bullet in his stomach and now — he was being invited in the most friendly manner possible to share a meal with the very man who had threatened him and whose goods he had actually been caught red-handed in the act of stealing.
Of course, the man was mad, but what in his madness was going to happen next?
With the two seated opposite to each other at the table they proceeded to enjoy what Mangan assured the gratified professor was as dainty a little meal as could have been provided anywhere. The atmosphere was most friendly, with the professor drawing out from his guest more of his adventures when fighting with the patriots of France. In particular the professor seemed to revel145 in the more gruesome details and his eyes sparkled at the recital146 of any episode where his guest mentioned having had resource to his big commando knife.
“Blood-thirsty little wretch147!” scowled Mangan under his breath. “He’s quite mental and would just love to set that big beast at me, and it wouldn’t take much to make him do it, either.”
The Alsatian had annoyed Mangan not a little the whole time they were having the meal and, to his irritation148, he found himself continually glancing in the dog’s direction. Stretched out upon the sofa, with his huge head resting upon his paws, never once had the big animal taken his eyes off him and, with the slightest movement Mangan had made in his chair, he had instantly lifted up his head and emitted a low growl. He had seemed ready to spring at him any moment.
The professor was obviously well aware of this little byplay which was going on and at length asked smilingly, “So my doggie fidgets you, does he? Don’t you like Alsatians?”
Mangan choked down the rage at the half-mocking way in which the question had been put. “It isn’t that I don’t like them,” he said carelessly, “but the Germans always used them and in consequence they are associated in my mind with the bestialities of the unspeakable Hun. So, whenever I see one now, my memory goes back to the many I have had to kill.”
“They are good fighters?” queried the professor.
“The best,” nodded Mangan, “but quite easy to kill if you face up to them when they attack you.”
“Then you think,” smiled the professor, “that if I took you both out into the yard and armed you, say with this carving149 knife here, my poor Pluto wouldn’t stand much chance in the fight.”
“The carving-knife would be no good,” scoffed Mangan, “but give me a good cut-throat razor and it’d be all over in double quick time.”
“And you wouldn’t mind killing him?”
“Not at all,” said Mangan. He smiled. “Haven’t I told you killing is my trade.”
“Good,” nodded the professor, “then as I say, if you’re the brave man you make yourself out to be you’ll jump at a proposition I am going to put to you in a few minutes.” He shook his head disapprovingly150. “But with you being a one-time commando I am rather disappointed in you. You ought not to have allowed yourself to be caught as you were. Your car was under my observation from the moment you came down the road. I was not very far away, down by the edge of the sea, looking for specimens151, and, though certainly it’s understandable you might not have picked me up because my mackintosh is much the same colour as that of the mud, you ought to have been aware someone belonging to the bungalow was somewhere close about.”
“How?” asked Mangan testily152, annoyed at the superior and patronising way in which the professor was admonishing153 him.
“By my footprints in the mud, of course,” returned the professor. “They start not half a dozen yards from where your car is standing, and you should have noticed they were only one-way ones. Therefore you should have known that the person who made them had not come back, but was somewhere about by the margin154 of the sea.”
“I didn’t see them at all,” frowned Mangan.
“Then you should have done,” said the professor, “as they were close under your very eyes.” He turned the conversation abruptly155. “By the by, as the bosom friend of his nephew I suppose you know Lord Delamarne quite well?”
Mangan was inclined to be non-committal. “I’ve stayed at the Castle a few times,” he said, “but I can’t say I know him well, as I think very few people do. He’s a most reserved man.”
The professor smiled a dry smile. “Well, with your partiality for old silver, no doubt you induced him to show you what he’s got.”
“I didn’t have to induce him,” snapped Mangan in continued irritability156 at the professor’s sarcastic157 tone. “He was quite ready to show me some of the trifles he has in the cabinet in his study, but everybody knows he keeps back his best things for his own pleasure, hidden away.”
The professor nodded. “Yes, in those underground passages, those walled-up dungeons158 of his, in a specially159 constructed steel chamber160 into which he thinks no burglar can break. As a Communist I regard it as a most selfish procedure and I’d love him to lose the lot.” He laughed. “Why don’t you have a go at them? I’m sure that with assistance from some of your criminal friends you’d be able to find a way to break in.”
Mangan made no comment and regarded him with an angry, sullen161 face. The professor went on. “Oh, they’d be worth a lot of risk. No one has any idea what treasures he may have hidden there.” He chuckled162 delightedly. “Now, I’ll tell you something which will surprise you. You remember that 18th century silver kettle which fetched such a huge sum at Southby’s last year, don’t you?”
Mangan remembered it quite well, as at the time its sale had caused quite a mild sensation in the art world. The kettle had been a magnificent example of a silversmith’s work when the Huguenots had first settled in London and it bore the stamp of having been made in 1715. The bidding had opened at a thousand guineas and gone up quickly to eighteen hundred in the favour of a well-known collector. Then when it seemed no further bid was going to be made and the auctioneer was in the very act or dropping his hammer, a shabby-looking man whom no one knew chipped in boldly with another hundred guineas.
For the moment the auctioneer hesitated as if doubtful about accepting the bid of a perfect stranger, but the latter held up a fist-full of banknotes and called out that all the money likely to be needed was there. Whereupon the bid was accepted, to be, however, immediately capped by another hundred from the collector. Quite confidently the stranger bid another fifty and then, ding-dong with no hesitation, the bidding went on until twenty-six hundred was reached. Whereupon the collector at once threw in his hand and the kettle was knocked down to the stranger who nonchalantly paid up with his banknotes and, placing his purchase in a shabby black bag, disappeared as unobtrusively as he had come. For a long time afterwards there was much speculation163 as to for whom the stranger had been acting164, but nothing had been found out, so who was now in actual possession of the kettle was as great a mystery as ever.
Now questioned by the professor, Mangan said he remembered the sale and, as with everyone else, was curious as to who had been the buyer.
“I can tell you,” laughed the professor exultingly165. “It was bought on Lord Delamarne’s behalf and he has got it now at the casde.”
Mangan frowned sceptically. “He has showed it to you?” he asked.
The professor shook his head. “No, but I’ve spoken to someone to whom he has, and it’s interesting how I came to know all about it. Some months ago I wanted some electric work done here and applied166 to a firm in Norwich who sent out an Italian workman who could only speak a few words of English. However, that didn’t matter at all as I know Italian well. The man was here for three days and was delighted to talk to someone who spoke his mother tongue. He was a very intelligent chap —” he laughed “— and, of course, a Communist. We became very friendly.”
The professor went on. “Talking about his experiences in England — the man had been over here only a few weeks — he mentioned that he had been recently doing a job for a very eccentric old gentleman and, if the old fellow had not owned a castle and been a lord, he might quite reasonably have suspected something very wrong was going on. There was such a secrecy167 about everything, and, before going down to an underground passage where some new wiring was wanted, he was actually blindfolded168 so that he should not learn how he had got there.”
Mangan was intensely interested all at once. “You are sure it was Lord Delamarne,” he exclaimed, “and that Blackarden was the casde?”
The professor nodded. “Of course! And during the three days the Italian was working there Delamarne was down underground with him the whole time. When they went down in the early morning they carried their mid-day meal with them so that they did not come up again until night. They spoke in French, but, having explained what wanted doing, this Italian said the lord hardly said a word to him. He said he felt a bit awed124 as everything was so silent and cold, and he knew he must be many, many feet below the castle, as he had counted seventy-six steps coming down a narrow stone stairway which, he says, at the time, he thought would never end.”
“But surely Lord Delamarne,” broke in Mangan, “would have ——”
The professor held up his hand frowningly. “Wait until I’ve finished,” he snapped, “and then you can ask what you like.” He paused a few moments to collect the threads of thoughts and then went on. “Well, he worked at the beginning of a long passage, but while he was not watching him, which he says was not for many minutes at a time, Delamarne was busy doing something round a corner at the farther end, quite he thinks, fifty yards away.
“Well, upon the second day, wanting some more instruction as what next to do and with Delamarne round his corner, as a matter of course he went up the passage to speak to him. To his amazement he found him in a little room opening out from the solid stone wall. The room was brightly lit and, seated at a small table, Delamarne was busy polishing up a tall silver candlestick. All round the chamber in glass cabinets were articles of silver and the man says they flashed and sparkled under the light.” The professor leant back in great good humour. “Now what do you think of that? Fancy our friend going to such extremes to protect whatever he has got, however valuable!”
Mangan pursed up his lips. “But it’s not by any means unusual,” he said. “Once the mania170 for collecting gets its grip on any man he is no longer normal and there is no accounting171 for his actions.” He frowned. “But wasn’t Lord Delamarne furious at the man having seen what he had?”
“Furious, and looked as if he would have liked to kill him,” nodded the professor. “But he soon came round and was quite friendly with the man. He said that an Italian would be sure to like beautiful things and he started showing off his possessions one by one, and that is how it came about that the workman so distinctly remembers the kettle and the date 1715. The next day when he left, Delamarne gave him ￡10 as a present for his promise to never tell anyone what he had seen.”
“And he told you,” queried Mangan dryly, “directly he came here.”
“No, not directly,” corrected the professor, “not until we had got pretty friendly and become aware we were both Communists.” He laughed. “Our mutual detestation of the so-called upper classes seemed to release him from his vow172.”
Mangan was silent for a few moments and then asked frowningly, “And do you mean to say the workman has absolutely no idea from what part of the castle that long stairway of those seventy-six steps started?”
The professor laughed. “Oh yes, he has a very good idea; in fact he says that while his blindfold169 journey was quite a lengthy173 one along several corridors with a lot of twists and turnings and commenced in Delamarne’s study, he is quite sure it ended there too, as there was the feel of the same carpet under his feet and the same smell of books in his nostrils174.” The professor snapped his fingers together. “Well, you think it over, my friend. There should be some good pickings for you in that old castle if you set about getting them in a methodical way.”
The meal over and cleared away the professor spoke in sharp and businesslike tones. “Now for what I want you to do. To begin with, however, as a Communist you must be a great admirer of Soviet175 Russia?”
“Certainly I am,” agreed Mangan with no hesitation. “But for them we should not have won the war.”
“And, as you have already told me,” continued the professor, “you heartily176 disapprove177 of us English-speaking nations taking advantage of our possession of the atom bomb and threatening to use it against them.”
“I do,” nodded Mangan. “Its employment by all nations ought to be outlawed at once.”
“And do you agree with me,” went on the professor earnestly, “that bringing over these Germans should be stopped by all means possible, lawful178 or unlawful?”
Mangan pretended to stir in fierce indignation. “I most certainly do,” he said angrily. “As I have already told you if only you had seen as I have what the Germans did to the French patriots during the occupation, the unbelievable tortures and sufferings they inflicted179 upon them — you would have no use for any Hun except to shoot him and get him under the ground as quickly as possible. From my experiences there’s not a pin to choose between any of them. They are all devils.”
“Exactly!” exclaimed the professor triumphantly180. “That’s the view I take.” He paused a moment and then burst out, “And I want you to kill one of the worst of them who’s been brought over here, that scoundrel, Dr. Carl von Bressen.” His eyes gleamed fanatically. “I want him destroyed and I’ll pay you well to do it. That’s the proposition I am putting before you — to get rid of an enemy to all humankind.”
For the moment Mangan was too amazed to make any comment. Certainly he had thought from the professor’s preliminary remarks that he was leading up to some extraordinary proposition, but he, Mangan, had never expected he was going to be asked to carry out the deliberate murder of a prominent public man.
The professor went on in crisp and businesslike tones. “Yes, and I’m prepared to pay you the sum of ￡1,000 down for your killing him in any way you feel most convenient.” His voice rose. “I want the whole world to learn that bringing these German scientists over here is not going to be tolerated and that there are decent men among us who are prepared to go to any length to stop it.”
Mangan made no comment. He was thinking hard. Of course, the excited little man before him was stark181, staring mad, but for all that his money was not mad and it should be easy to touch some of it.
The professor went on with great earnestness. “You must consider my position, Major Mangan, the position I occupy in the public eye. More than thirty years ago, I was made Professor of Natural Science at Cambridge University and I am not boasting when I tell you that for many years now I have been recognised as the greatest living authority in the world upon molluscs.” He snapped his fingers together disdainfully. “Why, only a few years back I received the enormous fee of fifty thousand guineas — I wouldn’t go for less — to travel to the United States and find out what was wrong with their oyster182 beds in Chesapeake Bay. The whole industry down the Atlantic coast and the Gulf183 of Mexico was threatened with extinction184, but I was able to advise them what the trouble was and the rot was stopped at once.”
“Fifty thousand guineas!” exclaimed Mangan, who was visibly surprised.
“Yes, and for about three weeks’ work,” nodded the professor. He smiled. “So you can realise I am a wealthy man and that ￡1,000 is nothing to me.”
He held up one hand impressively. “But all my life long I have been known as a man of extreme social views and have been vilified185 and insulted and even turned out of my professorial chair at the University because of them. More than one attempt, too, has been made to tar40 and feather me by young blackguards spurred on by rival scientists who would have dearly loved to humiliate186 me in any way.”
“Disgusting!” exclaimed Mangan, who nevertheless thought the idea of the tarring and feathering of the wasplike little professor rather amusing and would have greatly liked to have a good laugh.
“So do you wonder,” asked the professor, “that I want to get my revenge? If this German doctor is killed, it will prove that I am not alone in the opinions I hold. So that’s why I am offering you ￡1,000 for getting rid of the fellow.” He smiled dryly. “Surely an excellent payment to you, considering that during the war, if half what you have told me is true, you have taken scores and scores of lives for the paltry187 pay of a few shillings a day.”
Now completely recovered from the surprise, Mangan had made up his mind that he would agree to do what the professor wanted and get what money he could out of him in advance. Then he would have nothing more to do with him. The vicious little beast would have no hold upon him.
However, it seemed that the professor had read his thoughts, as he rapped out sharply, “But don’t you imagine, my fine fellow,” he snarled, “that I am going to trust you a single inch. I know your kind and won’t part with a penny until the job’s done.”
Mangan’s anger rose at the insulting way in which he was being addressed. “And how do you imagine I am going to trust you?” he asked equally as sharply. He looked scornful. “You might drag me into deliberate murder and then deny everything and pay me nothing.” He shook his head. “No, I’m as distrustful of you as you say you are of me.”
The professor raised on long forefinger188 significantly. “Ah, but you would have a hold upon me,” he retorted instantly, “for if you carry out this first mission successfully, I shall have similar ones for you to do. I shall employ you again upon equally generous terms.” He gritted his teeth. “This von Bressen is not the only blackguard I want put under the ground. He is only the first on the list. His colleague, Otto Bernstein, another damnable rogue189, would come next, and then there are several others, Britishers, to their shame I regret, to follow after.”
Mangan frowned. “But knowing nothing about you”— he remembered the vicious kicks the professor had given him and his frown changed to a grim smile —“except that people call you the mad professor, do you really think I should be fool enough to go out of this room and commit a deliberate murder on your promise to pay me ￡1,000 when I have done it?” He looked amused. “Surely you can’t expect me to have as much faith in you as all that?”
The professor’s jaw dropped and for the moment he did not seem to know how to reply. Then he said slowly and evidently with some reluctance, “I see your point and perhaps it’s not altogether unreasonable190.” He considered a few moments. “Well, this is what I’ll do. I’ll give you ￡50 straight away as expenses, for you to go down to Cambridge — that’s where the brute is living — and see exactly how the killing can be done. Find out all about him, his habits and his general way of life. Then come back to me and if I see you mean business I’ll pay you another ￡100 on account.”
“Not enough,” said Mangan sharply. “I’ll want ￡200 at least.”
The professor hesitated. “All right,” he said, “￡200 it shall be, and then another ￡750 when the job is done.”
Mangan appeared to consider. “But first tell me more about the man. Where he is living and how am I likely to catch him alone?”
“He is staying in one of the best private houses in Cambridge,” said the professor, “Number ninety-four Trumpington Road. He sleeps and has all his meals there except lunch. The house is surrounded by a large garden and, when the weather allows it, he sits reading there after his dinner.” He snapped his fingers together. “And that’s all I’m going to tell you. The rest you must find out for yourself, so that when you come back to report progress to me I know you’ve really started on the job. The shooting should be quite easy.”
“Then why don’t you do it for yourself?” asked Mangan brusquely.
“Ah, but I’m too well known in Cambridge,” was the instant reply, “and when anything happened to this man, it would be remembered I had been seen in the town. As I tell you, the shooting will be easy enough, but it will be the getting away afterwards that will be the risk. You must realise that I lived in Cambridge for longer than twenty years and mine is not an appearance that would lend to any disguise”— he laughed —“a little chap like me with my unforgettable red head.”
“All right then,” said Mangan after a long pause, “I’ll take it on if I don’t find the risk is too great. Still — mind you I shan’t attempt it if I’m not perfectly191 sure of being able to get away afterwards. From what you say the shooting may be easy enough, but it’ll be the getting away afterwards and leaving no trail behind that will be the snag.”
They talked on for a long while and finally the professor handed over the ￡50 in banknotes. “Well, I expect to see you next Wednesday at my flat in St. John’s Wood, at eight o’clock,” he said, “eight o’clock sharp, and be sure and don’t be late. I’m always punctual myself and expect other people to be so, too.”
Mangan drove back to Town in a very unsettled frame of mind. One moment he was inclined to have nothing more to do with the professor, but the next the big money tempted him and he thought that perhaps he might see the whole thing through. At any rate, he told himself, he’d go down to Cambridge and find out enough about the German scientist to be able to claim the payment of the ￡200.
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marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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radiator
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| n.暖气片，散热器 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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utensil
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| n.器皿，用具 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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scruples
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| 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 ) | |
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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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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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ace
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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sterling
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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darted
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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engrossed
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ashen
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shameful
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eel
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amazement
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mutual
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tranquil
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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hoarsely
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muzzle
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snarled
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| 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 | |
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braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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38
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
sardonically
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| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
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40
tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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41
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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42
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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43
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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44
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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45
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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46
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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47
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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48
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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49
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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50
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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51
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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52
proficiency
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| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
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53
sleight
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| n.技巧，花招 | |
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54
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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55
cramp
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| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
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56
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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57
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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58
freshman
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| n.大学一年级学生(可兼指男女) | |
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59
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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60
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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61
parental
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|
| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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62
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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63
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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64
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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65
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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67
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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68
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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69
confiding
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|
| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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70
enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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71
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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72
confided
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|
| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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73
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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74
strenuously
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|
| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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75
undoubtedly
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|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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76
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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77
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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78
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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79
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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80
regiment
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|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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81
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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82
patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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83
bloody
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|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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84
lust
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|
| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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85
slaughter
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|
| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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86
noted
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|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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87
bestial
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|
| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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88
partisan
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|
| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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89
partisans
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|
| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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90
hatred
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|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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91
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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92
situated
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|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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93
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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94
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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95
undone
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|
| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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96
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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97
slaughtered
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|
| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
accomplished
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|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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99
killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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100
execration
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|
| n.诅咒，念咒，憎恶 | |
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101
killers
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| 凶手( killer的名词复数 )； 消灭…者； 致命物； 极难的事 | |
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102
smuggled
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| 水货 | |
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103
emphasise
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|
| vt.加强...的语气，强调，着重 | |
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104
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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105
chronometer
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| n.精密的计时器 | |
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106
gratuity
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| n.赏钱，小费 | |
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107
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
entirely
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|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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109
dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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110
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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111
acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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112
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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113
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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114
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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115
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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116
persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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117
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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118
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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119
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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120
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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122
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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123
outlawed
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| 宣布…为不合法（outlaw的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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124
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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125
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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127
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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128
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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129
Pluto
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| n.冥王星 | |
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130
peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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131
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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132
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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133
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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134
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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135
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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136
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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137
gritted
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的过去式和过去分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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138
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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139
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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140
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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141
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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142
eels
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| abbr. 电子发射器定位系统（=electronic emitter location system） | |
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143
filthiest
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| filthy（肮脏的，污秽的）的最高级形式 | |
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144
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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145
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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146
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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147
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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148
irritation
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|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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149
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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150
disapprovingly
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|
| adv.不以为然地，不赞成地，非难地 | |
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151
specimens
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|
| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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152
testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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153
admonishing
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|
| v.劝告( admonish的现在分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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154
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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155
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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156
irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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157
sarcastic
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|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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158
dungeons
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| n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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159
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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160
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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161
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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162
chuckled
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|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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163
speculation
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|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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164
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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165
exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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166
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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167
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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168
blindfolded
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的过去式 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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169
blindfold
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| vt.蒙住…的眼睛；adj.盲目的；adv.盲目地；n.蒙眼的绷带[布等]； 障眼物，蒙蔽人的事物 | |
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170
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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171
accounting
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| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
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172
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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173
lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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174
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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175
Soviet
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| adj.苏联的，苏维埃的；n.苏维埃 | |
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176
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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177
disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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178
lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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179
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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180
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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181
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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182
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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183
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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184
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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185
vilified
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| v.中伤，诽谤( vilify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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186
humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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187
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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188
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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189
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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190
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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191
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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