“The lost is found!” Celia Trimble greeted her gaily3. “The stranger has returned! Come in, stranger! We’re having a party!”
Vicki waved her hand around at the jumble4 of scaffolds, paint buckets, and stepladders. “What in the world ...?”
“We’re being painted, Vicki! At last, after two years of pestering5 the landlord, we’re finally67 being painted! And to honor this eventful occasion, we’re giving a party. You’re just in time.”
Vicki stepped over the piles of newspapers, brushes, buckets and paint-splattered overalls6, and entered the apartment’s big living room. Apparently7 the painters hadn’t got this far, for the room seemed to be in a fair semblance8 of order. The rug, however, had been thrown back and two couples were dancing to the swing beat of the music. Dot Crowley was dancing with Pete Carmody, the newspaper reporter, and Jean Cox with Vicki’s former copilot, Dean Fletcher.
When the four spotted9 Vicki in the living-room doorway10, Dean stopped in mid-step and led Jean over to her.
“Well, well,” he said. His tanned face split in a big grin. “How does my little ex-crew member like the sunny South?”
“It’s the greatest.” Vicki laughed.
“Then how come you haven’t got a Florida sun tan?”
“I’m working on it,” Vicki replied. She looked up at the tall flier. “But you’re tan enough for both of us.”
“This tan I got down in Mexico on my vacation,” Dean assured her proudly. “And you know what, Vicki? Remember that hidden valley we discovered down there? Darned if I68 didn’t find it again while I was flying around this time. And”—he grinned archly—“without you!”
“Impossible!”
“Look, you two,” Jean said. “Why don’t you dance while you talk? I’ll go help Mrs. Duff make the sandwiches.”
Dean Fletcher danced as well as he flew. And that, Vicki knew, was good.
“Think we’ll ever be assigned to the same crew again?” Vicki asked, as Dean whirled her around to the swing of the music.
“In this business”—Dean smiled—“you never can tell. But I have my fingers crossed. I miss you.”
At that moment the music stopped while the record player changed, and Pete Carmody came ambling11 over. The reporter was tall and thin, and unlike Dean Fletcher, his skin looked as if it hadn’t been exposed to the sun for years.
“Hi, Vic!” the reporter said. “We had a whale of a story on the wire today about Tampa. Aren’t you on that run?”
Vicki nodded her head.
“Was the story something about gold coins?”
“It was! Know anything about it?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Vicki said, crinkling up her mouth in mock unconcern, “except that my plane was carrying the gold.”
“What?” Pete almost shouted.
“Don’t get excited, Pete.” Vicki smiled. “My69 flight had the gold on board. We didn’t know it until we were questioned by the FBI at noon today. So I’m not what you’d call a news source.”
“I can see the headlines now,” Pete said. “Vicki Barr—famous airlines hostess and gold thief. Admits holding up plane carrying treasure in mid-air. Makes off with booty.” He stopped his kidding and grew serious. “No fooling, Vic. Do you know anything I could use?”
“Seriously, Pete,” Vicki said, “not a thing. I don’t know how much of a story your paper got, but I can tell you that the Tampa police—and the FBI—are up against what they admit is a blank wall.”
“You mean to say,” Pete asked, “that somebody just waved his magic wand and a chest of gold was changed to a chest of nuts and bolts?”
“Pete,” Vicki said, “that’s just exactly what it looks like.”
At that moment Mrs. Duff, the girls’ housekeeper12, appeared with a heaping platter of sandwiches. She followed this with a steaming pot of coffee and a cool pitcher13 of milk.
After the supper was eaten and Mrs. Duff had cleared away the dishes, Pete Carmody got to his feet and clapped his hands for attention.
“We will now,” he proclaimed, “play charades14. Miss Vicki Barr will captain one team and I will captain the other. Vicki, take your first choice of players.”
70 In the winter-crisp air of New York, and the informal atmosphere of the apartment which she shared with her friends, Vicki relaxed and gave her mind over to the problem of how to act out “A horse—a horse—my kingdom for a horse!”
But deep in her subconscious15, like chips of wood in a whirlpool, names and people and things were churning themselves up and around and over and over—Joey’s flashlight, a slick Latin-type importer, a sick old man on an airplane, a restaurant in Ybor City, a tired-looking FBI man trying to solve a challenging case.
She was glad when the party broke up early and she could tumble into bed.
“Isn’t this turpentine smell awful?” Jean said as she turned out the light and pulled the covers up over her head.
“You won’t believe it, Jean,” Vicki said, “but it smells like oleander. And I wish it wouldn’t.”
点击收听单词发音
1 shambles | |
n.混乱之处;废墟 | |
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2 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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3 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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4 jumble | |
vt.使混乱,混杂;n.混乱;杂乱的一堆 | |
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5 pestering | |
使烦恼,纠缠( pester的现在分词 ) | |
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6 overalls | |
n.(复)工装裤;长罩衣 | |
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7 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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8 semblance | |
n.外貌,外表 | |
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9 spotted | |
adj.有斑点的,斑纹的,弄污了的 | |
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10 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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11 ambling | |
v.(马)缓行( amble的现在分词 );从容地走,漫步 | |
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12 housekeeper | |
n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
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13 pitcher | |
n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐;(棒球)投手 | |
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14 charades | |
n.伪装( charade的名词复数 );猜字游戏 | |
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15 subconscious | |
n./adj.潜意识(的),下意识(的) | |
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