Overhead, complaining as it swayed in the wind, hung the smirched and weather-worn sign-board of the Hog-in-the-Pound public house; wherefrom escaped sounds of such revelry by night as is indulged in by the British working-man in hours of ease. At the curb2 in front of the house of entertainment, dejected animals drooping3 between their shafts4, two hansoms stood in waiting, until such time as the lords of their destinies should see fit to sally forth5 and inflict6 themselves upon a cab-hungry populace. As Kirkwood turned, a third vehicle rumbled7 up out of the mews.
Kirkwood can close his eyes, even at this late day, and both see and hear it all again—even as he can see the unbroken row of dingy8 dwellings9 that lined his way back from Quadrant Mews to Frognall Street corner: all drab and unkempt, all sporting in their fan-lights the legend and lure10, "Furnished Apartments."
For, between his curiosity about and his concern for the girl, he was being led back to Number 9, by the nose, as it were,—hardly willingly, at best. Profoundly stupefied by the contemplation of his own temerity11, he yet returned unfaltering. He who had for so long plumed13 himself upon his strict supervision14 of his personal affairs and equally steadfast15 unconsciousness of his neighbor's businesses, now found himself in the very act of pushing in where he was not wanted: as he had been advised in well-nigh as many words. He experienced an effect of standing17 to one side, a witness of his own folly18, with rising wonder, unable to credit the strength of the infatuation which was placing him so conspicuously19 in the way of a snubbing.
If perchance he were to meet the girl again as she was leaving Number 9,—what then? The contingency20 dismayed him incredibly, in view of the fact that it did not avail to make him pause. To the contrary he disregarded it resolutely21; mad, impertinent, justified22 of his unnamed apprehensions24, or simply addled,—he held on his way.
He turned up Frognall Street with the manner of one out for a leisurely25 evening stroll. Simultaneously26, from the farther corner, another pedestrian debouched, into the thoroughfare—a mere27 moving shadow at that distance, brother to blacker shadows that skulked28 in the fenced areas and unlively entries of that poorly lighted block. The hush29 was something beyond belief, when one remembered the nearness of blatant30 Tottenham Court Road.
Kirkwood conceived a wholly senseless curiosity about the other wayfarer31. The man was walking rapidly, heels ringing with uncouth32 loudness, cane33 tapping the flagging at brief intervals34. Both sounds ceased abruptly36 as their cause turned in beneath one of the porticos. In the emphatic38 and unnatural39 quiet that followed, Kirkwood, stepping more lightly, fancied that another shadow followed the first, noiselessly and with furtive40 stealth.
Could it be Number 9 into which they had passed? The American's heart beat a livelier tempo41 at the suggestion. If it had not been Number 9—he was still too far away to tell—it was certainly one of the dwellings adjacent thereunto. The improbable possibility (But why improbable?) that the girl was being joined by her father, or by friends, annoyed him with illogical intensity42. He mended his own pace, designing to pass whichever house it might be before the door should be closed; thought better of this, and slowed up again, anathematizing himself with much excuse for being the inquisitive43 dolt44 that he was.
Approaching Number 9 with laggard45 feet, he manufactured a desire to light a cigarette, as a cover for his design, were he spied upon by unsuspected eyes. Cane under arm, hands cupped to shield a vesta's flame, he stopped directly before the portico37, turning his eyes askance to the shadowed doorway46; and made a discovery sufficiently47 startling to hold him spellbound and, incidentally, to scorch48 his gloves before he thought to drop the match.
The door of Number 9 stood ajar, a black interval35 an inch or so in width showing between its edge and the jamb.
Suspicion and alarm set his wits a-tingle. More distinctly he recalled the jarring bang, accompanied by the metallic49 click of the latch50, when the girl had shut herself in—and him out. Now, some person or persons had followed her, neglecting the most obvious precaution of a householder. And why? Why but because the intruders did not wish the sound of closing to be audible to her—or those—within?
He reminded himself that it was all none of his affair, decided51 to pass on and go his ways in peace, and impulsively53, swinging about, marched straight away for the unclosed door.
"'Old'ard, guvner!"
Kirkwood halted on the cry, faltering12 in indecision. Should he take the plunge54, or withdraw? Synchronously55 he was conscious that a man's figure had detached itself from the shadows beneath the nearest portico and was drawing nearer, with every indication of haste, to intercept56 him.
"'Ere now, guvner, yer mykin' a mistyke. You don't live 'ere."
"How do you know?" demanded Kirkwood crisply, tightening57 his grip on his stick.
Was this the second shadow he had seemed to see—the confederate of him who had entered Number 9; a sentry58 to forestall59 interruption? If so, the fellow lacked discretion60, though his determination that the American should not interfere61 was undeniable. It was with an ugly and truculent62 manner, if more warily63, that the man closed in.
"I knows. You clear hout, or—"
He flung out a hand with the plausible64 design of grasping Kirkwood by the collar. The latter lifted his stick, deflecting65 the arm, and incontinently landed his other fist forcibly on the fellow's chest. The man reeled back, cursing. Before he could recover Kirkwood calmly crossed the threshold, closed the door and put his shoulder to it. In another instant, fumbling66 in the darkness, he found the bolts and drove them home.
And it was done, the transformation67 accomplished68; his inability to refrain from interfering69 had encompassed70 his downfall, had changed a peaceable and law-abiding alien within British shores into a busybody, a trespasser71, a misdemeanant, a—yes, for all he knew to the contrary, in the estimation of the Law, a burglar, prime candidate for a convict's stripes!
Breathing hard with excitement he turned and laid his back against the panels, trembling in every muscle, terrified by the result of his impulsive52 audacity73, thunder-struck by a lightning-like foreglimpse of its possible consequences. Of what colossal74 imprudence had he not been guilty?
"The devil!" he whispered. "What an ass1, what an utter ass I am!"
Behind him the knob was rattled75 urgently, to an accompaniment of feet shuffling77 on the stone; and immediately—if he were to make a logical deduction78 from the rasping and scraping sound within the door-casing—the bell-pull was violently agitated79, without, however, educing80 any response from the bell itself, wherever that might be situate. After which, as if in despair, the outsider again rattled and jerked the knob.
Be his status what it might, whether servant of the household, its caretaker, or a night watchman, the man was palpably determined81 both to get himself in and Kirkwood out, and yet (curious to consider) determined to gain his end without attracting undue82 attention. Kirkwood had expected to hear the knocker's thunder, as soon as the bell failed to give tongue; but it did not sound although there was a knocker,—Kirkwood himself had remarked that antiquated83 and rusty84 bit of ironmongery affixed85 to the middle panel of the door. And it made him feel sure that something surreptitious and lawless was in process within those walls, that the confederate without, having failed to prevent a stranger from entering, left unemployed86 a means so certain-sure to rouse the occupants.
But his inferential analysis of this phase of the proceedings87 was summarily abrupted by that identical alarm. In a trice the house was filled with flying echoes, wakened to sonorous88 riot by the crash and clamor of the knocker; and Kirkwood stood fully89 two yards away, his heart hammering wildly, his nerves a-jingle, much as if the resounding90 blows had landed upon his own person rather than on stout91 oaken planking.
Ere he had time to wonder, the racket ceased, and from the street filtered voices in altercation92. Listening, Kirkwood's pulses quickened, and he laughed uncertainly for pure relief, retreating to the door and putting an ear to a crack.
The accents of one speaker were new in his hearing, stern, crisp, quick with the spirit of authority which animates93 that most austere94 and dignified95 limb of the law to be encountered the world over, a London bobby.
"Now then, my man, what do you want there? Come now, speak up, and step out into the light, where I can see you."
The response came in the sniffling snarl96 of the London ne'er-do-well, the unemployable rogue97 whose chiefest occupation seems to be to march in the ranks of The Unemployed on the occasion of its annual demonstrations98.
"Le' me alone, carntcher? Ah'm doin' no 'arm, officer,—"
"Didn't you hear me? Step out here. Ah, that's better.... No harm, eh? Perhaps you'll explain how there's no harm breakin' into unoccupied 'ouses?"
"Gorblimy, 'ow was I to know? 'Ere's a toff 'ands me sixpence fer hopenin' 'is cab door to-dye, an', sezee, 'My man,' 'e sez, 'yer've got a 'onest fyce. W'y don'cher work?' sezee. ''Ow can I?' sez I. ''Ere'm I hout of a job these six months, lookin' fer work every dye an' carn't find it.' Sezee, 'Come an' see me this hevenin' at me home, Noine, Frognall Stryte,' 'e sez, an'—"
"That'll do for now. You borrow a pencil and paper and write it down and I'll read it when I've got more time; I never heard the like of it. This 'ouse hasn't been lived in these two years. Move on, and don't let me find you round 'ere again. March, I say!"
There was more of it—more whining99 explanations artfully tinctured with abuse, more terse100 commands to depart, the whole concluding with scraping footsteps, diminuendo, and another perfunctory, rattle76 of the knob as the bobby, having shoo'd the putative101 evil-doer off, assured himself that no damage had actually been done. Then he, too, departed, satisfied and self-righteous, leaving a badly frightened but very grateful amateur criminal to pursue his self-appointed career of crime.
He had no choice other than to continue; in point of fact, it had been insanity102 just then to back out, and run the risk of apprehension23 at the hands of that ubiquitous bobby, who (for all he knew) might be lurking103 not a dozen yards distant, watchful104 for just such a sequel. Still, Kirkwood hesitated with the best of excuses. Reassuring105 as he had found the sentinel's extemporized106 yarn,—proof positive that the fellow had had no more right to prohibit a trespass72 than Kirkwood to commit one,—at the same time he found himself pardonably a prey107 to emotions of the utmost consternation108 and alarm. If he feared to leave the house he had no warrant whatever to assume that he would be permitted to remain many minutes unharmed within its walls of mystery.
The silence of it discomfited109 him beyond measure; it was, in a word, uncanny.
Before him, as he lingered at the door, vaguely110 disclosed by a wan16 illumination penetrating111 a dusty and begrimed fan-light, a broad hall stretched indefinitely towards the rear of the building, losing itself in blackness beyond the foot of a flight of stairs. Save for a few articles of furniture,—a hall table, an umbrella-stand, a tall dumb clock flanked by high-backed chairs,—it was empty. Other than Kirkwood's own restrained respiration112 not a sound throughout the house advertised its inhabitation; not a board creaked beneath the pressure of a foot, not a mouse rustled113 in the wainscoting or beneath the floors, not a breath of air stirred sighing in the stillness.
And yet, a tremendous racket had been raised at the front door, within the sixty seconds past! And yet, within twenty minutes two persons, at least, had preceded Kirkwood into the building! Had they not heard? The speculation114 seemed ridiculous. Or had they heard and, alarmed, been too effectually hobbled by the coils of their nefarious115 designs to dare reveal themselves, to investigate the cause of that thunderous summons? Or were they, perhaps, aware of Kirkwood's entrance, and lying perdui, in some dark corner, to ambush116 him as he passed?
True, that were hardly like the girl. True, on the other hand, it were possible that she had stolen away while Kirkwood was hanging in irresolution117 by the passage to Quadrant Mews. Again, the space of time between Kirkwood's dismissal and his return had been exceedingly brief; whatever her errand, she could hardly have fulfilled it and escaped. At that moment she might be in the power and at the mercy of him who had followed her; providing he were not friendly. And in that case, what torment118 and what peril119 might not be hers?
Spurred by solicitude120, the young man put personal apprehensions in his pocket and forgot them, cautiously picking his way through the gloom to the foot of the stairs. There, by the newel-post, he paused. Darkness walled him about. Overhead the steps vanished in a well of blackness; he could not even see the ceiling; his eyes ached with futile121 effort to fathom122 the unknown; his ears rang with unrewarded strain of listening. The silence hung inviolate123, profound.
Slowly he began to ascend124, a hand following the balusters, the other with his cane exploring the obscurity before him. On the steps, a carpet, thick and heavy, muffled125 his footfalls. He moved noiselessly. Towards the top the staircase curved, and presently a foot that groped for a higher level failed to find it. Again he halted, acutely distrustful.
Nothing happened.
He went on, guided by the balustrade, passing three doors, all open, through which the undefined proportions of a drawing-room and boudoir were barely suggested in a ghostly dusk. By each he paused, listening, hearing nothing.
His foot struck with a deadened thud against the bottom step of the second flight, and his pulses fluttered wildly for a moment. Two minutes—three—he waited in suspense126. From above came no sound. He went on, as before, save that twice a step yielded, complaining, to his weight. Toward the top the close air, like the darkness, seemed to weigh more heavily upon his consciousness; little drops of perspiration127 started out on his forehead, his scalp tingled128, his mouth was hot and dry, he felt as if stifled129.
Again the raised foot found no level higher than its fellows. He stopped and held his breath, oppressed by a conviction that some one was near him. Confirmation130 of this came startlingly—an eerie131 whisper in the night, so close to him that he fancied he could feel the disturbed air fanning his face.
"Is it you, Eccles?" He had no answer ready. The voice was masculine, if he analyzed132 it correctly. Dumb and stupid he stood poised133 upon the point of panic.
"Eccles, is it you?"
The whisper was both shrill134 and shaky. As it ceased Kirkwood was half blinded by a flash of light, striking him squarely in the eyes. Involuntarily he shrank back a pace, to the first step from the top. Instantaneously the light was eclipsed.
"Halt or—or I fire!"
By now he realized that he had been scrutinized135 by the aid of an electric hand-lamp. The tremulous whisper told him something else—that the speaker suffered from nerves as high-strung as his own. The knowledge gave him inspiration. He cried at a venture, in a guarded voice, "Hands up!"—and struck out smartly with his stick. Its ferrule impinged upon something soft but heavy. Simultaneously he heard a low, frightened cry, the cane was swept aside, a blow landed glancingly on his shoulder, and he was carried fairly off his feet by the weight of a man hurled136 bodily upon him with staggering force and passion. Reeling, he was borne back and down a step or two, and then,—choking on an oath,—dropped his cane and with one hand caught the balusters, while the other tore ineffectually at wrists of hands that clutched his throat. So, for a space, the two hung, panting and struggling.
Then endeavoring to swing his shoulders over against the wall, Kirkwood released his grip on the hand-rail and stumbled on the stairs, throwing his antagonist137 out of balance. The latter plunged138 downward, dragging Kirkwood with him. Clawing, kicking, grappling, they went to the bottom, jolted139 violently by each step; but long before the last was reached, Kirkwood's throat was free.
Throwing himself off, he got to his feet and grasped the railing for support; then waited, panting, trying to get his bearings. Himself painfully shaken and bruised140, he shrewdly surmised141 that his assailant had fared as ill, if not worse. And, in point of fact, the man lay with neither move nor moan, still as death at the American's feet.
And once more silence had folded its wings over Number 9, Frognall Street.
More conscious of that terrifying, motionless presence beneath him, than able to distinguish it by power of vision, he endured interminable minutes of trembling horror, in a witless daze142, before he thought of his match-box. Immediately he found it and struck a light. As the wood caught and the bright small flame leaped in the pent air, he leaned forward, over the body, breathlessly dreading143 what he must discover.
The man lay quiet, head upon the floor, legs and hips144 on the stairs. One arm had fallen over his face, hiding the upper half. The hand gleamed white and delicate as a woman's. His chin was smooth and round, his lips thin and petulant145. Beneath his top-coat, evening dress clothed a short and slender figure. Nothing whatever of his appearance suggested the burly ruffian, the midnight marauder; he seemed little more than a boy old enough to dress for dinner. In his attitude there was something pitifully suggestive of a beaten child, thrown into a corner.
Conscience-smitten and amazed Kirkwood stared on until, without warning, the match flickered146 and went out. Then, straightening up with an exclamation147 at once of annoyance148 and concern, he rattled the box; it made no sound,—was empty. In disgust he swore it was the devil's own luck, that he should run out of vestas at a time so critical. He could not even say whether the fellow was dead, unconscious, or simply shamming149. He had little idea of his looks; and to be able to identify him might save a deal of trouble at some future time,—since he, Kirkwood, seemed so little able to disengage himself from the clutches of this insane adventure! And the girl—. what had become of her? How could he continue to search for her, without lights or guide, through all those silent rooms, whose walls might inclose a hundred hidden dangers in that house of mystery?
But he debated only briefly150. His blood was young, and it was hot; it was quite plain to him that he could not withdraw and retain his self-respect. If the girl was there to be found, most assuredly, he must find her. The hand-lamp that had dazzled him at the head of the stairs should be his aid, now that he thought of it,—and providing he was able to find it.
In the scramble151 on the stairs he had lost his hat, but he remembered that the vesta's short-lived light had discovered this on the floor beyond the man's body. Carefully stepping across the latter he recovered his head-gear, and then, kneeling, listened with an ear close to the fellow's face. A softly regular beat of breathing reassured152 him. Half rising, he caught the body beneath the armpits, lifting and dragging it off the staircase; and knelt again, to feel of each pocket in the man's clothing, partly as an obvious precaution, to relieve him of his advertised revolver against an untimely wakening, partly to see if he had the lamp about him.
The search proved fruitless. Kirkwood suspected that the weapon, like his own, had existed only in his victim's ready imagination. As for the lamp, in the act of rising he struck it with his foot, and picked it up.
It felt like a metal tube a couple of inches in diameter, a foot or so in length, passably heavy. He fumbled153 with it impatiently. "However the dickens," he wondered audibly, "does the infernal machine work?" As it happened, the thing worked with disconcerting abruptness154 as his untrained fingers fell hapchance on the spring. A sudden glare again smote155 him in the face, and at the same instant, from a point not a yard away, apparently156, an inarticulate cry rang out upon the stillness.
Heart in his mouth, he stepped back, lowering the lamp (which impishly went out) and lifting a protecting forearm.
"Who's that?" he demanded harshly.
A strangled sob157 of terror answered him, blurred158 by a swift rush of skirts, and in a breath his shattered nerves quieted and a glimmer159 of common sense penetrated160 the murk anger and fear had bred in his brain. He understood, and stepped forward, catching161 blindly at the darkness with eager hands.
"Miss Calendar!" he cried guardedly. "Miss Calendar, it is I—Philip Kirkwood!"
There was a second sob, of another caliber162 than the first; timid fingers brushed his, and a hand, warm and fragile, closed upon his own in a passion of relief and gratitude163.
"Oh, I am so g-glad!" It was Dorothy Calendar's voice, beyond mistake. "I—I didn't know what t-to t-think.... When the light struck your face I was sure it was you, but when I called, you answered in a voice so strange,—not like yours at all! ... Tell me," she pleaded, with palpable effort to steady herself; "what has happened?"
"I think, perhaps," said Kirkwood uneasily, again troubled by his racing164 pulses, "perhaps you can do that better than I."
"Oh!" said the voice guiltily; her fingers trembled on his, and were gently withdrawn165. "I was so frightened," she confessed after a little pause, "so frightened that I hardly understand ... But you? How did you—?"
"I worried about you," he replied, in a tone absurdly apologetic. "Somehow it didn't seem right. It was none of my business, of course, but ... I couldn't help coming back. This fellow, whoever he is—don't worry; he's unconscious—slipped into the house in a manner that seemed to me suspicious. I hardly know why I followed, except that he left the door an open invitation to interference ..."
"I can't be thankful enough," she told him warmly, "that you did interfere. You have indeed saved me from ..."
"Yes?"
"I don't know what. If I knew the man—"
"You don't know him?"
"I can't even guess. The light—?"
She paused inquiringly. Kirkwood fumbled with the lamp, but, whether its rude handling had impaired166 some vital part of the mechanism167, or whether the batteries through much use were worn out, he was able to elicit168 only one feeble glow, which was instantly smothered169 by the darkness.
"It's no use," he confessed. "The thing's gone wrong."
"Have you a match?"
"I used my last before I got hold of this."
"Oh," she commented, discouraged. "Have you any notion what he looks like?"
Kirkwood thought briefly. "Raffles170," he replied with a chuckle171. "He looks like an amateurish172 and very callow Raffles. He's in dress clothes, you know."
"I wonder!" There was a nuance173 of profound bewilderment in her exclamation. Then: "He knocked against something in the hall—a chair, I presume; at all events, I heard that and put out the light. I was ... in the room above the drawing-room, you see. I stole down to this floor—was there, in the corner by the stairs when he passed within six inches, and never guessed it. Then, when he got on the next floor, I started on; but you came in. I slipped into the drawing-room and crouched174 behind a chair. You went on, but I dared not move until ... And then I heard some one cry out, and you fell down the stairs together. I hope you were not hurt—?"
"Nothing worth mention; but he must have got a pretty stiff knock, to lay him out so completely." Kirkwood stirred the body with his toe, but the man made no sign. "Dead to the world ... And now, Miss Calendar?"
If she answered, he did not hear; for on the heels of his query175 banged the knocker down below; and thereafter crash followed crash, brewing176 a deep and sullen177 thundering to rouse the echoes and send them rolling, like voices of enraged178 ghosts, through the lonely rooms.
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1
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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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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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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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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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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leisurely
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simultaneously
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mere
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skulked
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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wayfarer
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uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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36
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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37
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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38
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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39
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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40
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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41
tempo
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| n.(音乐的)速度；节奏，行进速度 | |
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42
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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43
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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44
dolt
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| n.傻瓜 | |
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45
laggard
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| n.落后者；adj.缓慢的，落后的 | |
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46
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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47
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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48
scorch
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| v.烧焦，烤焦；高速疾驶；n.烧焦处，焦痕 | |
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49
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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50
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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51
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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52
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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53
impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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54
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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55
synchronously
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| ad.同时地 | |
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56
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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57
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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58
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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59
forestall
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| vt.抢在…之前采取行动；预先阻止 | |
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60
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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61
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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62
truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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63
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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64
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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65
deflecting
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| （使）偏斜， （使）偏离， （使）转向( deflect的现在分词 ) | |
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66
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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67
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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68
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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69
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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70
encompassed
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| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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71
trespasser
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| n.侵犯者；违反者 | |
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72
trespass
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| n./v.侵犯，闯入私人领地 | |
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73
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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74
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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75
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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76
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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77
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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78
deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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79
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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80
educing
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|
| v.引出( educe的现在分词 )；唤起或开发出（潜能）；推断（出）；从数据中演绎（出） | |
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81
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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82
undue
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|
| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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83
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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84
rusty
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|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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85
affixed
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|
| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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86
unemployed
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|
| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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87
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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88
sonorous
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|
| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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89
fully
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|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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90
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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92
altercation
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|
| n.争吵，争论 | |
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93
animates
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| v.使有生气( animate的第三人称单数 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
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94
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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95
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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96
snarl
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|
| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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97
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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98
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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99
whining
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|
| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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100
terse
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| adj.(说话，文笔)精炼的，简明的 | |
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101
putative
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| adj.假定的 | |
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102
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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103
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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104
watchful
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|
| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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105
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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106
extemporized
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| v.即兴创作，即席演奏( extemporize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
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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108
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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109
discomfited
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| v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词)；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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110
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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111
penetrating
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|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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112
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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113
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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115
nefarious
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|
| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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116
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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117
irresolution
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| n.不决断，优柔寡断，犹豫不定 | |
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118
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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119
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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120
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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121
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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122
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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123
inviolate
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| adj.未亵渎的，未受侵犯的 | |
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124
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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125
muffled
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|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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126
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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127
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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128
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
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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130
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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131
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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132
analyzed
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| v.分析( analyze的过去式和过去分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析 | |
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133
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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134
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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135
scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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137
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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138
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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139
jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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140
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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141
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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142
daze
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| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
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143
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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144
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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145
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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146
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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147
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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148
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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149
shamming
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| 假装，冒充( sham的现在分词 ) | |
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150
briefly
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|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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151
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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152
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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153
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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154
abruptness
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| n. 突然，唐突 | |
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155
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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156
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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157
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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158
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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159
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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160
penetrated
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|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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161
catching
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|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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162
caliber
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| n.能力；水准 | |
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163
gratitude
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|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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164
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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165
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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166
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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167
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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168
elicit
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| v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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169
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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170
raffles
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| n.抽彩售物( raffle的名词复数 )v.以抽彩方式售（物）( raffle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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171
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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172
amateurish
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| n.业余爱好的，不熟练的 | |
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173
nuance
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| n.(意义、意见、颜色)细微差别 | |
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174
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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175
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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176
brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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177
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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178
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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