"Just a moment ... until I get my breath!"
"The steward1 ...?"
"No, no! Ran out to identify the man, if possible. I'm afraid there's something deadly in your room."
"But Malachi!" The bird was huddled2 on the bottom of his cage, a bad sign.
Mathison dashed into the cabin, inhaled3 sharply, and his inhalation thrilled him. An unknown but pleasant odor tingled4 his nostrils5. His glance roved quickly. On the floor, under the port, was a brown box, perforated. He seized it and tossed it through the port-hole, beyond the rail, into the sea. Then he stepped out into the companion.
"Come!... Outside, where the air moves....[Pg 73] Malachi!" Mathison's voice broke. "Hurry!"
She followed him, still clutching the cage and wondering if he would remark her eyes, now without the baffling spectacles. He led her to a spot where the rail opened, took the cage from her, and set it on the deck. He sat down beside it, and she imitated him.
"The poor little bird!" she murmured. Was the wig6 on straight? She dared not put up her hand to feel.
Mathison stared at Malachi. He should have taken a cabin in the lower deck. Still, he couldn't understand how the port had been opened. He had kept it locked, despite the stuffiness7. No matter. Inspection8 would solve that. Thought he had turned in. He had, until to-night, gone to the cabin regularly at eleven; and they had planned the stroke accordingly. Their only hope of entering the cabin was after midnight, when he was in it. He had liberally subsidized the two Jap stewards9. Day and night the companion was guarded. But after midnight the companion was empty.
Clever. To stupefy him, to send him into a deep, artificial slumber10, force his door and[Pg 74] ransack11 his belongings12 leisurely13. He was confident the fume15 was innocuous beyond the sleep-producing effect. But Malachi ... it would have been the death of Malachi.
He still clung to that idea. He had read of such things, but until now had never considered them in the light of facts. If Hallowell had called to Malachi, the little bird knew. But would he ever speak? Had he understood that one of his masters had been trying to tell him something?
Every morning for an hour Mathison had worked patiently to get the bird to speak; but, aside from grumbling16 in parrakeetese, Malachi refused to utter a word. All this confusion annoyed him. There was a strange swing to the world, now up, now down, now from side to side. It kept his temper, normally irascible, in a state of feverish17 vindictiveness18. True, he would climb up Mathison's arm, nip his master's ear gently—the only way he had of expressing affection; but he was generally unhappy.
"I don't know why," said the gray lady, when Mathison's silence began to get upon her nerves, "but my first thought was of Malachi. I ... you have told me so often how much you loved him."
[Pg 75]
"And you have probably saved him. In ten minutes he would have been dead."
Malachi turned slowly head-on to the wind. The beak19 was closed. This was a good sign.
"Malachi, old boy?"
The woman stifled20 the sob21 that rose in her throat. A strong, vigorous man, young, handsome beyond ordinary, all alone but for the little green bird. Why? What was the meaning of this self-imposed isolation22? "A mollycoddle23 so far as women were concerned." Why, there was nothing about him to suggest bashfulness. She had not studied him through all these hours without learning that fundamentally he was light-hearted in temperament24 and tremendously interested in living. No woman in the background, for he was not cynical26. And here he was, his sole companion a Hindustani parrakeet.
Mathison thrust a finger into the cage, and Malachi struck at it drunkenly.
"He'll come around. I can't thank you; I haven't the words. But it would have broken my heart if anything had happened to him. Won't you please tell me exactly what happened?"
[Pg 76]
She did not begin at once. She had to weigh her words. She must never let him suspect that, night after night, she never went to bed until she heard him enter his cabin. What a coil! He would never know who she was! To-morrow, after landing, the gray lady would vanish forever. Only a few months gone her existence had been joyous28, if strenuous29; and now there would be always at her side a shadow and a fear. She had stepped upon a whirligig, and perspectives were no longer clear. The horizon of the future was dark with complications. She dreaded30 New York, and she was honor-bound to return. Berta in New York? The kite in the dove-cote? Escapades which would become the talk of the town and which the public would naturally lay at her door. She shivered.
Yes, to-morrow she must vanish completely, even though she would always be close at hand, all the way across the continent. The Yellow Typhoon! Her heart swelled31 in bitterness. He would never know. Filled with the grim business of war, he would be rushing in and about Washington or the great naval32 yards. He would spend his leave in activities which[Pg 77] concerned his future. There would be only one chance in a thousand of his stumbling upon the truth and finding her. Ah, but if he should!
"I could not sleep," she began. "I left my door open and knelt on the lounge to watch the sea. I don't know how long I remained in that position. Suddenly I observed a man stealing along the rail. His face was in a complete shadow. I watched him. He stopped in front of your port-hole, then approached it. This looked so suspicious that I stepped into the companion. Your door was open the width of the hook, and I could see the port-hole clearly. I saw the glass swing inward. There was plenty of moonshine. I saw an arm reach into the port-hole and something was dangling33 at the end of the shadowy hand. Quickly I threw up the hook, opened your door, and turned on the lights. Saki, the steward, came running up. In a word I told him what had happened. There was a peculiar34 odor in the air. I caught up the cage and rushed out ... just as you appeared."
"All my life I shall be grateful. I can't explain anything to you, much as I'd like to. You will never realize what your [Pg 78]companionship has done to buck35 me up. I came aboard very nearly a broken man."
"Boy, you don't have to confide14." She laid a hand on his arm.
"I'm an odd duffer. They used to call me mollycoddle, back at Annapolis, until I had whipped half the class. And all the while I've been just as normal as the average man." There was a pause. "You know Kipling?"
"His books? Yes."
"Then you remember that yarn36 called 'Love o' Women'? My father ... he was like that. Handsome and lovable and weak in fiber37. He was also in the navy. For a hundred years we Mathisons have been in the army or navy. We had money. We were soldiers and sailors from choice. My father died when I was sixteen. He died terribly. He broke my mother's heart. But I knew nothing of that until after his burial. Then one day she called me to her.... I wish you could have seen and heard her. Tender and plucky38 and beautiful ... and unafraid. She talked to me as fathers always should talk to their sons. Frankly39 and truthfully she drew life. I had the example of my father. She told[Pg 79] me that somewhere in the world there was a mate for me. Should I take her a clean heart or a muddy one? Should I know real happiness or should I choose a bed like my father's? I listened, dulled and appalled40. Then she asked me to promise to go clean. There's a point. We Mathisons always keep our promises. It is the motto on the shield. But we never give our promises hastily. My mother knew that. My father had never made her any promises of reformation. He knew he would have kept them. She told me to fight it out, then come and tell her what I had chosen to do with my soul and body."
"And you promised!"
"Yes. And I've kept it. She died shortly after. The wild streak41 was in my blood. I've had to fight. I have sown my wild oats in work and adventure. This took away a good deal of the gregarious42 instinct. I have fought wild beasts on foot; I have explored poisonous swamps; I have climbed precipices—and always the thing tugged43 at me."
"And the dream-woman?"
"I'm afraid she's been a little too long in coming."
[Pg 80]
"But how would you know?"
"I'd know. I can't tell you how or why. Only, I shall know. Something will tell me. I wonder, am I a mollycoddle?"
"Boy," she said, pressing his arm, for she hadn't taken her hand away, "I did not believe that there was such a man in all this world. Why, you have won your Marne!... And she will come, this mate, for God is just. If I had a son, I'd want him like you. All mothers long for sons like you.... She will come!"
"She'll have to hurry," he replied, lightly. "I'm heading into the war zone. I may never come back." He laid his free hand on hers. "I wonder if I can make you understand what your kindness has done for me? When I came on board I was all but done for. I had just lost the one human being I loved. May I come and see you in New York?"
"I shall be waiting for you. You have my address."
Later, in her cabin, while sleepy Sarah brushed and aired the wavy44 coils of hair which had been confined all day beneath the hot wig, she turned with shining eyes—eyes like purple grapes in the rain.
[Pg 81]
"Sarah, am I beautiful?"
"Ah, madame, all the world...."
"Bother the world. What do you think?"
"I? Madame is more than beautiful. She is famous. She is good. She is worthy45 of a good man, of many healthy children."
Her mistress laughed. "Thanks, Sarah. That is all I wished to know."
"Will madame continue wearing this make-up?"
"I shall change it for another in the cab that takes us from the dock to the train to-morrow."
When the ship lay alongside her pier46 the following afternoon Mathison put in his buttonhole the bit of green ribbon. Then he rang for the steward, assigned the cage and one of the two kit-bags to his care, took the other himself, and went up on deck to bid Mrs. Chester good-by.
"Good-by," she said from behind a heavy veil. "You will not forget me?"
"Never in this world! I have your address. I'll dig up New York from one end to the other but I'll find you, little mother!"
"Take care of yourself. And please come and find me!" But she went down[Pg 82] the gang-plank with a queer, empty feeling in her heart. He might find her, but the gray lady would shortly vanish forever.
Had she been mothering him? Or had she been attracted from another angle? She had never met a man like this before, worldly in his understanding, handsome, virile47, a man's man, but an utter child in the presence of a woman. Perhaps the attraction was its novelty. Hitherto she had looked upon men cynically48. She was like one who had been chasing a mirage49 across the desert, to find a water-hole unexpectedly.
It had been so easy to deceive him. Her voice, the roundness of her body, the firmness of her hand and foot, these hadn't told him anything. How many times had she almost reached out to rumple50 his hair? Why hadn't she? Why did she want to? She carried this riddle51 with her for many days.
Mathison walked down the gang-plank into the vast shed. Almost at once a man approached him and handed him an envelope. He made off without a word. Mathison, without glancing at the envelope, stuffed it in his pocket and proceeded toward[Pg 83] the customs barrier. He passed this with little or no delay, got into a taxicab and was driven to the ferry. Over in Oakland he found the train made up, so he went into his compartment52 immediately. He put away the green ribbon and rang for the porter.
"Screens in the window," he said.
"Yes, suh."
"I shall ring for you whenever I need you. Knock three times shortly on the door when you answer."
"Yes, suh."
"I shall have my meals in here. Always bring the waiter to the door yourself."
"Yes, suh," said the porter, the whites of his eyes growing.
"Follow these instructions and you will be ten dollars richer when we draw into Omaha. That will be all."
Mathison left the door wide open until the arrival of the conductor, when he produced the envelope he had so mysteriously received. It contained his tickets. After surrendering these, he closed and locked the door and took inventory53. Imitation mahogany—steel. Above the little door in the lavatory54 was an electric fan. He discovered[Pg 84] that one of the windows went up easily. When his bunk55 was made up he would be able to reach the light and fan buttons without difficulty.
"Well, Malachi, old scout56, this is America. How do you like it?"
Malachi teetered on his perch57 grouchily58.
"I'm beginning to think that you're Irish—a Sinn-Feiner. You don't like anybody, anything, or anywhere. Poor little beggar! I wonder if you'll ever chatter59 again. I suppose I'd better break the news to you. When we get to New York I'm going to give you away. Yes, sir. To the dearest old lady a chap ever had the good fortune to meet. To have met a woman like that ... when she was young! My luck! They call us idiotic60 Yankees, these Huns, Malachi; but we're going to fool them. Ever see a spider weave his web—and then wait for the fly to walk in? Wait and see!"
Mathison turned slowly and faced the rear partition. He stretched out his arms and curled his fingers sinisterly61, his jaws62 set, a savage63 luster64 in his eyes.
"With these two hands, by God!... All right, Bob. Trust me to see it through."
But how was he going to secure that [Pg 85]blue-print—No. 9? He possessed65 the power to search every human being on this train. That would, if used, serve to recover the print; but it would set Messrs. the Flies winging to parts unknown the moment they suspected what was on foot. The long arm of the Secret Service at his beck and call, and he would not dare to use it! Beyond identifying himself to the watching agents by the display of the green ribbon, he would never dare call for help. His enemies would be in this train, probably in this very car: they would be on the same trains all the way to New York, whither he must draw them. Once there, he would not have much difficulty in recovering No. 9. But if they mailed it! If it entered their calculations to mail it!
How many against him? He would never know until the end. The Yellow Typhoon? Let the vipers66 beware! Morgan had described her minutely, but Mathison doubted he would recognize her unless she entered some extraordinary situation.
To live in this infernal bulkhead for days, eating, sleeping, reading—that would be the supreme67 test, that would prove whether the metal in him was iron-casting or forged[Pg 86] steel. Never to question the porters, to confuse his enemies by a grim silence, to force them into offensives out of sheer curiosity.
"We idiotic Yankees!"
That night as he lay in his berth68—it was after one o'clock—solving mathematical problems which had to do with jumps between trains, he became conscious of a pleasant odor. He recognized it. Instantly he sat up and hauled away at the window. Next he brought over Malachi and lowered the covering of the cage. The cold night air came in at the rate of a gale69. Then he remembered the fan. He groped for the button, and the fan began to hum. Still he could smell the fumes70. Suddenly he laughed. It was the cold, tranquil71 laughter of a man who had lived among men. He pressed the porter's bell. If there was any one waiting in the corridor, he would have to move on. But if the porter did not arrive!
The porter, however, came almost at once. Mathison, holding his automatic behind his back, opened the door full wide.
"Any way of getting a cup of coffee?"
"No, suh."
[Pg 87]
"Sorry to have bothered you, then."
All Mathison wanted was an open door for a minute or two—a clearing draught72. When he shut the door there was only a vague taint73. Clever work. Not a lethal74 fume; neither his heart nor his lungs were troubled in the least. A sleep fume. There had been an almost irresistible75 desire to curl up and let the world go hang.
Malachi's feathers were ruffled76, but he clung to his perch, his eyes beaming with their usual malignancy.
How had they gotten the fumes into the compartment? Forward there was no danger, as he was occupying No. 1. He went over every square inch of the base of the rear partition. In the corner under the berth—a difficult spot to get to—he found an oily thimbleful of steel filings. He drenched77 a towel and dammed the aperture78. Compressed air had forced the fumes into the compartment. Evidently they were going to keep him awake nights!
So his friends were next door! Something to find that out. But what was the idea? They could not force that door without dynamite79. Had they speculated upon his running out into the corridor?[Pg 88] Or was this the beginning of a series of night attacks to break him down physically80 and mentally?... To keep him awake until he threw caution to the winds! There were big storms forward; there would be delays. Very well; he would sleep afternoons and stand watch through the night. A man's job.
The next offensive came while they were crossing the Rockies. It had caliber81. It convinced Mathison that he was dealing82 with a man of brains, a man who was not untrained in psycho-analysis. They ran afoul a tremendous storm in the mountains and became stalled for several hours because of a fallen snow-shed. It was near eleven o'clock when the porter came along and announced what had happened.
Though Mathison was sleeping as much as he could through the day, he undressed at night, propped83 himself up under the reading globe and studied navigation peculiar these days to British waters. Round about midnight he heard a pistol-shot, another, then a fusillade from opposite directions. He jumped out of his berth and got into some of his clothes—and sat down suddenly, grinning. Had he been[Pg 89] dressed they would have got him! What would be surer to call forth84 a fighting-man than the sound of shots in the night? They were going to keep him thinking fast. They wanted him out in the open.
Before the train reached Omaha—a day and a half late—Mathison began to feel the strain. Sleep in the afternoon is never energy-producing; a number of minutes pass into oblivion, that is all; body and brain stand still; they do not recuperate85. Mathison, upon coming out of these naps, felt as if he had been playing cards for hours. He had to apply cold water to shake off the lethargy. He was full of confidence, however.
There wasn't any doubt at all that they were after his nerves. The door-knob rattled86 mysteriously during the small hours of the night. Whenever the train stopped there was clicking on the window-pane. But he never opened the door nor raised the window-curtain. The vantage was still on his side of the net. While he knew what they were attempting to do, they hadn't the least idea where their endeavors were getting them.
At Omaha passengers for Chicago would[Pg 90] be transferred to another train. Mathison was last to leave. He put the green ribbon in his buttonhole, picked up the kit-bag which contained the manila envelope, and sauntered forth. The freshness of the winter air and the joy of swinging his arms and legs freely!
The porter preceded him with the bag and Malachi. He did not hurry. He was among a dozen or so moving in the same direction. As he reached the platform of the new car two men broke away from the group and hurried off toward the gates. Negligible and unnoticed, unless you knew what it signified. On the lounge in his compartment—which was still No. 1—he discovered some novels and a bundle of the latest magazines. A present from the Secret Service. He would look through them all with particular care. There might be a message.
A point in passing. If Mathison was confusing his enemies he was also confusing the various chiefs of the Secret Service along the route. Here, the latter reasoned, was a man who temporarily possessed colossal87 power. Orders had come from Washington to obey him absolutely. He could[Pg 91] commandeer a car for himself, a diner, put operatives in the cars fore27 and aft, order the arrests of suspects, knock railway schedules galley-west; and to date he had issued but two orders—to engage No. 1 compartment on all trains and to have three taxicabs at the station in Chicago. And these orders had come from mid-Pacific by wireless88. On the other hand, they appreciated the fact that if Mathison could make it on his own, so much the better. Still, they were puzzled.
There were three novels. As Mathison idly riffled the pages of one he saw a word underscored. He followed this clue, and at length came upon the message: "You understand your powers? Car straight to Washington if you order it." Mathison chuckled89. If the Secret Service was baffled, what was going on in the minds of the men following him? He had determined90 from the start to send no wires. The green ribbon must suffice. Telegrams passing to and fro might create confusion, alarm the quarry91.
There were two empty compartments92 on this car—4 and 5. Mathison had No. 1. No. 2 was occupied by a man with[Pg 92] straw-colored hair and a ruddy complexion93 and a woman with a charming mole94 at one corner of her mouth. In No. 3 were two men, playing canfield. In No. 6 there were two women.
Both women had entered the car heavily veiled—the woman in 6 and the woman in 2. Neither removed the veil until the conductor passed. From San Francisco to Omaha, all on the same car; and they would be on the same car from Omaha to Chicago. Mathison nor the woman in 2 had stepped outside their compartments until this transfer from one car to the other. But the woman in 6 walked the corridor at all hours of the day and night, her face hidden behind a thick gray veil. Her maid, however, brought all the meals to the compartment.
The blond man stood up and put a cigar between his teeth.
"Well, once more luck is with us. And yet I am vaguely95 puzzled."
"Over what?" snapped the woman with the mole, irritably96.
"It is almost too easy"—scowling.
"The stupid Yankee pigs!"
"Not this one, Berta. We haven't got him clear in the open yet."
[Pg 93]
"Ah! Then you are beginning to doubt that superior efficiency of yours?... I'm tired. To keep me cooped up like this!"
"You may open your wings as wide as you please, once we are in New York."
"But if he goes on this way?"
"I have still some traps. There will be a little journey in Chicago between one station and the other. Who knows what may happen?"
"But why coop me up?"
"The hour may come when I shall need you. If he saw you it would not be possible. Did Hallowell have a photograph of you?"
"In his watch-case. But he destroyed it the night he left me." She frowned.
"Nevertheless, he must never see you. On board the ship it was your impatience97 that caused me to fail. We merely put him on his guard. The blue-prints were in the purser's safe, and his signature was not in the receipt-book. Have patience. No man is perfect. Patience often overcomes skill. Sooner or later the skilful98 man grows careless, or he forgets, or he comes to believe he is a godson of luck. And then, there is the lack of sleep. Somewhere along the route I'll find a weak spot."
[Pg 94]
"I hate all Yankees!"
"So do I, Berta. I hate them because some of them are not boasters. Have patience. A small city east of Chicago, a chief of police who likes newspaper notoriety. A couple of hours; we sha'n't need any more than that. New York!" jovially99.
"Champagne100 and beefsteak!" she retorted, contemptuously.
"Well, and why not? Haven't I promised you all the dresses you can pack in two trunks? I haven't had a decent meal or a good cup of coffee since the war began."
"New York!... after all these years!"
"Bah! Who in the world will recognize you? We are a good many miles away from that gambling-house in the Honan Road. You're moody101. You've missed the parade for nearly five weeks. You'd be all right if you could walk through the cars to the diner and have them gape102 in wonder at you. Somewhere between Chicago and Buffalo103 we'll use that crook104 scheme. Now I'm going in next door for a few rubbers at bridge."
She did not reply. She turned her face toward the window and stared out into the night. New York! What was the matter[Pg 95] with her that she did not blaze with pleasure at the thought of New York? Fifth Avenue, Broadway, the theaters, the brilliant restaurants, the shops—why did the thought of New York set a little chill in her heart? Were they alive or dead? In all these years she had not made the least effort to find out. New York ... youth that had known nothing but poverty! With a repellent gesture she cast out these thoughts and picked up a fashion magazine.
In compartment 6, the young woman read a manuscript, while the elderly maid with the broad, stolid105 countenance106 of the Breton peasant, brushed the golden hair tenderly. By and by the manuscript fluttered to the floor. She knew it so absolutely, even after these months. She stared at the partition. She saw in fancy a window-curtain, forms swaying back and forth, then darkness. She would never be able to identify the men. She had cried and shaken the iron bars of the gate until her palms had peeled.
"Sarah, dear, am I tiring you out?"
"I love to brush your hair, madame."
"I mean the slaving I've set you to."
"No, madame. The only happiness I[Pg 96] know rests in serving madame faithfully. Besides, madame has told me that all this is for France; and that is enough for me, who am Breton."
"Then I am still beautiful to you?"
The maid smiled. "Madame, that handsome young man with the little green bird...."
"Well?"
"Madame is not offended?"
"No, Sarah. Speak on."
"Well, it would appear that madame—and madame knows that I am observing—no longer despises mankind."
"Oh, but he isn't a man, Sarah!"
"But yes, madame!"
"No. He is an anachronism—a half-god who has lost the way to Olympus."
"Ah! If madame is not interested?"—with a sigh of relief.
"Men! How well I know men! The sameness of them! What do they offer me? Orchids107, hothouse grapes, jewels that I return. Never a flower that is free and wild. What is it I want, Sarah? Romance! A whirlwind, an avalanche108, to sweep me up, to carry me off—berserker love! A man who'll take me if I'm what he wants, [Pg 97]without pursuing me in circles. I am a viking's daughter! This man?... We shall wait and see. Get me to bed. I am weary."
Meanwhile Mathison went through his magazines, taking in the pictures first. Then he fell upon a good story. It was illustrated109 by photographs, and one of the photographs made him forget the story. What was it? What was it that stirred in the back of his head at the sight of this bit of dramatized photography? He studied it near and afar, from this angle and that, but the lure110 remained tantalizingly111 beyond reach.
Fate never hurries. She takes time in writing her human scenarios112; she can afford to. She knows that inexorably they will be enacted113, without deviation114. She had chosen this moment to place before Mathison's eye the photograph of a beautiful young woman.
The train from Omaha arrived in Chicago exactly twenty-four hours late. Great storms were raging across the land.
As Mathison was passing through the gate—the green ribbon in his buttonhole—a man approached him covertly115 and thrust an envelope into his hand. More tickets.[Pg 98] Mathison did not accelerate his stride in the least. He knew that everything was prepared for him. Upon reaching the cab-stand he stopped. At once three taxis rolled up. Mathison bundled his luggage into the middle cab, rested Malachi's cage on his knees, shouted an order, and the three cabs started off rapidly.
The snow was coming down in thick sheets. A blizzard116 was in the offing.
Just outside the regular cab-stand stood a private car, a heavy, powerful limousine117. As the three taxis rolled away into the storm a man dashed up to the limousine, jumped in and called to the chauffeur118:
"The middle car; follow that. Smash it or tip it over. In a storm like this accidents will happen."
The limousine shot forward. The going was heavy. The man in the limousine saw the three taxis string out a little as they went on. What he did not see was the fourth taxi which followed him.
Almost in a kind of military maneuver119 the three taxis forward veered120 together suddenly and shot down a side-street. It took the limousine two minutes to pick them up again. There were plenty of [Pg 99]arc-lights, and by the aid of these the pursuer saw that he had gained a little. They were strung out again, about fifteen feet apart. They held this formation for several blocks.
To the occupant of the limousine this was baffling as well as maddening. He saw that until they separated it would be impossible to ram25 the middle taxi. He decided121 to draw up broadside.
The woman in the fourth taxi laughed.
"Sarah, that young man knows how to take care of himself. If I should happen to fire a pistol, you promise not to scream?"
"Yes, madame."
The young woman laughed again. "Oh, this is glorious! I feel all my youth coming back. I'm alive! alive! alive! The fates have appointed me his godmother, Sarah. My duty is to watch over him until ... he grows up!"
The maid smiled in the dark.
Presently the man in the limousine cried out joyfully122. The forward cab swooped123 north, the rear one south, while the middle car continued east toward the railway station.
[Pg 100]
"Now! Beat into it! Anything to stop it!"
A block farther on the private car and the taxi collided. The latter reeled toward the curb124 and stopped.
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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stuffiness
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| n.不通风，闷热；不通气 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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ransack
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| v.彻底搜索，洗劫 | |
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12
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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13
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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14
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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15
fume
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| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
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16
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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17
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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18
vindictiveness
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| 恶毒；怀恨在心 | |
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19
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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20
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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21
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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22
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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23
mollycoddle
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| v.溺爱，娇养 | |
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24
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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25
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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26
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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27
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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28
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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29
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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30
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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31
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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32
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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33
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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34
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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35
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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36
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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37
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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38
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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39
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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40
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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41
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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42
gregarious
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| adj.群居的，喜好群居的 | |
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43
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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45
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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46
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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47
virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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48
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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49
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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50
rumple
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；n.褶纹，皱褶 | |
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51
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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52
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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53
inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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54
lavatory
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| n.盥洗室，厕所 | |
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55
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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56
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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57
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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58
grouchily
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| adv.不高兴地，发牢骚地 | |
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59
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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60
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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61
sinisterly
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| 不吉祥地，邪恶地 | |
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62
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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63
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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64
luster
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| n.光辉；光泽，光亮；荣誉 | |
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65
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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66
vipers
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| n.蝰蛇( viper的名词复数 )；毒蛇；阴险恶毒的人；奸诈者 | |
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67
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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68
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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69
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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70
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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71
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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72
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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73
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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74
lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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75
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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76
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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77
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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78
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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79
dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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80
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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81
caliber
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| n.能力；水准 | |
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82
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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83
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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85
recuperate
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| v.恢复 | |
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86
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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87
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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88
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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89
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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91
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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92
compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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93
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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94
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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95
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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96
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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97
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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98
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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99
jovially
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| adv.愉快地，高兴地 | |
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100
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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101
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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102
gape
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| v.张口，打呵欠，目瞪口呆地凝视 | |
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103
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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104
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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105
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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106
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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107
orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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108
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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109
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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110
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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111
tantalizingly
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| adv.…得令人着急，…到令人着急的程度 | |
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112
scenarios
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| n.[意]情节；剧本；事态；脚本 | |
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113
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
deviation
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| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
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115
covertly
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| adv.偷偷摸摸地 | |
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116
blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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117
limousine
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| n.豪华轿车 | |
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118
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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119
maneuver
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| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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120
veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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121
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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122
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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123
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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