Temporarily dumb with consternation4, he returned her stare as silently.
"Well, Mr.—Kirkwood?"
"Mrs. Hallam," he stammered5, "I—"
She lifted her shoulders impatiently and with a quick movement stepped back across the threshold, where she paused, a rounded arm barring the entrance, one hand grasping the door-knob, as if to shut him out at any moment.
"I'm awaiting your explanation," she said coldly.
"I'm waiting your explanation," she said coldly.
He grinned with nervousness, striving to penetrate6 the mental processes of this handsome Mrs. Hallam. She seemed to regard him with a suspicion which he thought inexcusable. Did she suppose he had spirited Dorothy Calendar away and then called to apprise7 her of the fact? Or that he was some sort of an adventurer, who had manufactured a plausible8 yarn9 to gain him access to her home? Or—harking back to her original theory—that he was an emissary from Scotland Yard? ... Probably she distrusted him on the latter hypothesis. The reflection left him more at ease.
"I am quite as mystified as you, Mrs. Hallam," he began. "Miss Calendar was here, at this door, in a four-wheeler, not ten minutes ago, and—"
"Then where is she now?"
"Tell me where Calendar is," he retorted, inspired, "and I'll try to answer you!"
But her eyes were blank. "You mean—?"
"That Calendar was in this house when I came; that he left, found his daughter in the cab, and drove off with her. It's clear enough."
"You are quite mistaken," she said thoughtfully. "George Calendar has not been here this night."
He wondered that she did not seem to resent his imputation12. "I think not—"
"Listen!" she cried, raising a warning hand; and relaxing her vigilant13 attitude, moved forward once more, to peer down toward the Embankment.
A cab had cut in from that direction and was bearing down upon them with a brisk rumble14 of hoofs15. As it approached, Kirkwood's heart, that had lightened, was weighed upon again by disappointment. It was no four-wheeler, but a hansom, and the open wings of the apron16, disclosing a white triangle of linen17 surmounted18 by a glowing spot of fire, betrayed the sex of the fare too plainly to allow of further hope that it might be the girl returning.
At the door, the cab pulled up sharply and a man tumbled hastily out upon the sidewalk.
"Here!" he cried throatily, tossing the cabby his fare, and turned toward the pair upon the doorstep, evidently surmising19 that something was amiss. For he was Calendar in proper person, and a sight to upset in a twinkling Kirkwood's ingeniously builded castle of suspicion.
"Mrs. Hallam!" he cried, out of breath. "'S my daughter here?" And then, catching20 sight of Kirkwood's countenance21: "Why, hello, Kirkwood!" he saluted22 him with a dubious23 air.
The woman interrupted hastily. "Please come in, Mr. Calendar. This gentleman has been inquiring for you, with an astonishing tale about your daughter."
"Dorothy!" Calendar's moon-like visage was momentarily divested25 of any trace of color. "What of her?"
"You had better come in," advised Mrs. Hallam brusquely.
The fat adventurer hopped26 hurriedly across the threshold, Kirkwood following. The woman shut the door, and turned with back to it, nodding significantly at Kirkwood as her eyes met Calendar's.
"Well, well?" snapped the latter impatiently, turning to the young man.
But Kirkwood was thinking quickly. For the present he contented27 himself with a deliberate statement of fact: "Miss Calendar has disappeared." It gave him an instant's time ... "There's something damned fishy28!" he told himself. "These two are playing at cross-purposes. Calendar's no fool; he's evidently a crook29, to boot. As for the woman, she's had her eyes open for a number of years. The main thing's Dorothy. She didn't vanish of her own initiative. And Mrs. Hallam knows, or suspects, more than she's going to tell. I don't think she wants Dorothy found. Calendar does. So do I. Ergo: I'm for Calendar."
"Disappeared?" Calendar was barking at him. "How? When? Where?"
"Within ten minutes," said Kirkwood. "Here, let's get it straight.... With her permission I brought her here in a four-wheeler." He was carefully suppressing all mention of Frognall Street, and in Calendar's glance read approval of the elision. "She didn't want to get out, unless you were here. I asked for you. The maid showed me up-stairs. I left your daughter in the cab—and by the way, I hadn't paid the driver. That's funny, too! Perhaps six or seven minutes after I came in Mrs. Hallam found out that Miss Calendar was with me and wanted to ask her in. When we got to the door—no cab. There you have it all."
"Thanks—it's plenty," said Calendar dryly. He bent30 his head in thought for an instant, then looked up and fixed31 Mrs. Hallam with an unprejudiced eye, "I say!" he demanded explosively. "There wasn't any one here that knew—eh?"
Her fine eyes wavered and fell before his; and Kirkwood remarked that her under lip was curiously32 drawn33 in.
"I heard a man leave as Mrs. Hallam joined me," he volunteered helpfully, and with a suspicion of malice34. "And after that—I paid no attention at the time—it seems to me I did hear a cab in the street—"
"Ow?" interjected Calendar, eying the woman steadfastly35 and employing an exclamation36 of combined illumination and inquiry37 more typically British than anything Kirkwood had yet heard from the man.
For her part, the look she gave Kirkwood was sharp with fury. It was more; it was a mistake, a flaw in her diplomacy38; for Calendar intercepted39 it. Unceremoniously he grasped her bare arm with his fat hand.
"Tell me who it was," he demanded in an ugly tone.
She freed herself with a twist, and stepped back, a higher color in her cheeks, a flash of anger in her eyes.
"Mr. Mulready," she retorted defiantly40. "What of that?"
"I wish I was sure," declared the fat adventurer, exasperated41. "As it is, I bet a dollar you've put your foot in it, my lady. I warned you of that blackguard.... There! The mischief's done; we won't row over it. One moment." He begged it with a wave of his hand; stood pondering briefly42, fumbled43 for his watch, found and consulted it. "It's the barest chance," he muttered. "Perhaps we can make it."
"What are you going to do?" asked the woman.
"Give Mister Mulready a run for his money. Come along, Kirkwood; we haven't a minute. Mrs. Hallam, permit us...." She stepped aside and he brushed past her to the door. "Come, Kirkwood!"
He seemed to take Kirkwood's company for granted; and the young man was not inclined to argue the point. Meekly44 enough he fell in with Calendar on the sidewalk. Mrs. Hallam followed them out. "You won't forget?" she called tentatively.
"I'll 'phone you if we find out anything." Calendar jerked the words unceremoniously over his shoulder as, linking arms with Kirkwood, he drew him swiftly along. They heard her shut the door; instantly Calendar stopped. "Look here, did Dorothy have a—a small parcel with her?"
"She had a gladstone bag."
"Oh, the devil, the devil!" Calendar started on again, muttering distractedly. As they reached the corner he disengaged his arm. "We've a minute and a half to reach Charing45 Cross Pier46; and I think it's the last boat. You set the pace, will you? But remember I'm an oldish man and—and fat."
They began to run, the one easily, the other lumbering47 after like an old-fashioned square-rigged ship paced by a liner.
Beneath the railway bridge, in front of the Underground station, the cab-rank cried them on with sardonic48 view-halloos; and a bobby remarked them with suspicion, turning to watch as they plunged49 round the corner and across the wide Embankment.
The Thames appeared before them, a river of ink on whose burnished50 surface lights swam in long winding51 streaks52 and oily blobs. By the floating pier a County Council steamboat strained its hawsers54, snoring huskily. Bells were jingling55 in her engine-room as the two gained the head of the sloping gangway.
Kirkwood slapped a shilling down on the ticket-window ledge56. "Where to?" he cried back to Calendar.
"Cherry Gardens Pier," rasped the winded man. He stumbled after Kirkwood, groaning57 with exhaustion58. Only the tolerance59 of the pier employees gained them their end; the steamer was held some seconds for them; as Calendar staggered to its deck, the gangway was jerked in, the last hawser53 cast off. The boat sheered wide out on the river, then shot in, arrow-like, to the pier beneath Waterloo Bridge.
The deck was crowded and additional passengers embarked60 at every stop. In the circumstances conversation, save on the most impersonal61 topics, was impossible; and even had it been necessary or advisable to discuss the affair which occupied their minds, where so many ears could hear, Calendar had breath enough neither to answer nor to catechize Kirkwood. They found seats on the forward deck and rested there in grim silence, both fretting62 under the enforced restraint, while the boat darted63, like some illuminated64 and exceptionally active water insect, from pier to pier.
As it snorted beneath London Bridge, Calendar's impatience65 drove him from his seat back to the gangway. "Next stop," he told Kirkwood curtly66; and rested his heavy bulk against the paddle-box, brooding morosely67, until, after an uninterrupted run of more than a mile, the steamer swept in, side-wheels backing water furiously against the ebbing68 tide, to Cherry Gardens landing.
Sweet name for a locality unsavory beyond credence69! ... As they emerged on the street level and turned west on Bermondsey Wall, Kirkwood was fain to tug70 his top-coat over his chest and button it tight, to hide his linen. In a guarded tone he counseled his companion to do likewise; and Calendar, after a moment's blank, uncomprehending stare, acknowledged the wisdom of the advice with a grunt71.
The very air they breathed was rank with fetid odors bred of the gaunt dark warehouses72 that lined their way; the lights were few; beneath the looming74 buildings the shadows were many and dense75. Here and there dreary76 and cheerless public houses appeared, with lighted windows conspicuous77 in a lightless waste. From time to time, as they hurried on, they encountered, and made wide detours78 to escape contact with knots of wayfarers—men debased and begrimed, with dreary and slatternly women, arm in arm, zigzaging widely across the sidewalks, chorusing with sodden79 voices the burden of some popularized ballad80. The cheapened, sentimental81 refrains echoed sadly between benighted82 walls....
Kirkwood shuddered83, sticking close to Calendar's side. Life's naked brutalities had theretofore been largely out of his ken11. He had heard of slums, had even ventured to mouth politely moral platitudes84 on the subject of overcrowding in great centers of population, but in the darkest flights of imagination had never pictured to himself anything so unspeakably foul85 and hopeless as this.... And they were come hither seeking—Dorothy Calendar! He was unable to conceive what manner of villainy could be directed against her, that she must be looked for in such surroundings.
After some ten minutes' steady walking, Calendar turned aside with a muttered word, and dived down a covered, dark and evil-smelling passageway that seemed to lead toward the river.
Mastering his involuntary qualms86, Kirkwood followed.
Some ten or twelve paces from its entrance the passageway swerved87 at a right angle, continuing three yards or so to end in a blank wall, wherefrom a flickering88, inadequate89 gas-lamp jutted90. At this point a stone platform, perhaps four feet square, was discovered, from the edge of which a flight of worn and slimy stone steps led down to a permanent boat-landing, where another gas-light flared91 gustily93 despite the protection of its frame of begrimed glass.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed the young man. "What, in Heaven's name, Calendar—?"
"Bermondsey Old Stairs. Come on."
They descended94 to the landing-stage. Beneath them the Pool slept, a sheet of polished ebony, whispering to itself, lapping with small stealthy gurgles angles of masonry95 and ancient piles. On the farther bank tall warehouses reared square old-time heads, their uncompromising, rugged96 profile relieved here and there by tapering97 mastheads. A few, scattering98, feeble lights were visible. Nothing moved save the river and the wind.
The landing itself they found quite deserted99; something which the adventurer comprehended with a nod which, like its accompanying, inarticulate ejaculation, might have been taken to indicate either satisfaction or disgust. He ignored Kirkwood altogether, for the time being, and presently produced a small, bright object, which, applied100 to his lips, proved to be a boatswain's whistle. He sounded two blasts, one long, one brief.
There fell a lull101, Kirkwood watching the other and wondering what next would happen. Calendar paced restlessly to and fro upon the narrow landing, now stopping to incline an ear to catch some anticipated sound, now searching with sweeping102 glances the black reaches of the Pool.
Finally, consulting his watch, "Almost ten," he announced.
"We're in time?"
"Can't say.... Damn! ... If that infernal boat would only show up—"
He was lifting the whistle to sound a second summons when a rowboat rounded a projecting angle formed by the next warehouse73 down stream, and with clanking oar-locks swung in toward the landing. On her thwarts104 two figures, dipping and rising, labored105 with the sweeps. As they drew in, the man forward shipped his blades, and rising, scrambled106 to the bows in order to grasp an iron mooring-ring set in the wall. The other awkwardly took in his oars108 and, as the current swung the stern downstream, placed a hand palm downward upon the bottom step to hold the boat steady.
Calendar waddled109 to the brink110 of the stage, grunting111 with relief.
"The other man?" he asked brusquely. "Has he gone aboard? Or is this the first trip to-night?"
One of the watermen nodded assent112 to the latter question, adding gruffly: "Seen nawthin' of 'im, sir."
"Very good," said Calendar, as if he doubted whether it were very good or bad. "We'll wait a bit."
"Right-o!" agreed the waterman civilly.
Calendar turned back, his small eyes glimmering113 with satisfaction. Fumbling114 in one coat pocket he brought to light a cigar-case. "Have a smoke?" he suggested with a show of friendliness115. "By Heaven, I was beginnin' to get worried!"
"As to what?" inquired Kirkwood pointedly116, selecting a cigar.
He got no immediate118 reply, but felt Calendar's sharp eyes upon him while he manoeuvered with matches for a light.
"That's so," it came at length. "You don't know. I kind of forgot for a minute; somehow you seemed on the inside."
Kirkwood laughed lightly. "I've experienced something of the same sensation in the past few hours."
"Don't doubt it." Calendar was watching him narrowly. "I suppose," he put it to him abruptly119, "you haven't changed your mind?"
"Changed my mind?"
"About coming in with me."
"My dear sir, I can have no mind to change until a plain proposition is laid before me."
"Hmm!" Calendar puffed120 vigorously until it occurred to him to change the subject. "You won't mind telling me what happened to you and Dorothy?"
"Certainly not."
Calendar drew nearer and Kirkwood, lowering his voice, narrated121 briefly the events since he had left the Pless in Dorothy's company.
Her father followed him intently, interrupting now and again with exclamation or pertinent122 question; as, Had Kirkwood been able to see the face of the man in No. 9, Frognall Street? The negative answer seemed to disconcert him.
"Youngster, you say? Blam' if I can lay my mind to him! Now if that Mulready—"
"It would have been impossible for Mulready—whoever he is—to recover and get to Craven Street before we did," Kirkwood pointed117 out.
"Well—go on." But when the tale was told, "It's that scoundrel, Mulready!" the man affirmed with heat. "It's his hand—I know him. I might have had sense enough to see he'd take the first chance to hand me the double-cross. Well, this does for him, all right!" Calendar lowered viciously at the river. "You've been blame' useful," he told Kirkwood assertively123. "If it hadn't been for you, I don't know where I'd be now,—nor Dorothy, either,"—an obvious afterthought. "There's no particular way I can show my appreciation125, I suppose? Money—?"
"I've got enough to last me till I reach New York, thank you."
"Well, if the time ever comes, just shout for George B. I won't be wanting.... I only wish you were with us; but that's out of the question."
"Doubtless ..."
"No two ways about it. I bet anything you've got a conscience concealed126 about your person. What? You're an honest man, eh?"
"I don't want to sound immodest," returned Kirkwood, amused.
"You don't need to worry about that.... But an honest man's got no business in my line." He glanced again at his watch. "Damn that Mulready! I wonder if he was 'cute enough to take another way? Or did he think ... The fool!"
He cut off abruptly, seeming depressed127 by the thought that he might have been outwitted; and, clasping hands behind his back, chewed savagely128 on his cigar, watching the river. Kirkwood found himself somewhat wearied; the uselessness of his presence there struck him with added force. He bethought him of his boat-train, scheduled to leave a station miles distant, in an hour and a half. If he missed it, he would be stranded129 in a foreign land, penniless and practically without friends—Brentwick being away and all the rest of his circle of acquaintances on the other side of the Channel. Yet he lingered, in poor company, daring fate that he might see the end of the affair. Why?
There was only one honest answer to that question. He stayed on because of his interest in a girl whom he had known for a matter of three hours, at most. It was insensate folly130 on his part, ridiculous from any point of view. But he made no move to go.
The slow minutes lengthened131 monotonously132.
There came a sound from the street level. Calendar held up a hand of warning. "Here they come! Steady!" he said tensely. Kirkwood, listening intently, interpreted the noise as a clash of hoofs upon cobbles.
Calendar turned to the boat.
"Sheer off," he ordered. "drop out of sight. I'll whistle when I want you."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The boat slipped noiselessly away with the current and in an instant was lost to sight. Calendar plucked at Kirkwood's sleeve, drawing him into the shadow of the steps. "E-easy," he whispered; "and, I say, lend me a hand, will you, if Mulready turns ugly?"
"Oh, yes," assented133 Kirkwood, with a nonchalance134 not entirely135 unassumed.
The racket drew nearer and ceased; the hush136 that fell thereafter seemed only accentuated137 by the purling of the river. It was ended by footsteps echoing in the covered passageway. Calendar craned his thick neck round the shoulder of stone, reconnoitering the landing and stairway.
"Thank God!" he said under his breath. "I was right, after all!"
A man's deep tones broke out above. "This way. Mind the steps; they're a bit slippery, Miss Dorothy."
"But my father—?" came the girl's voice, attuned138 to doubt.
"Oh, he'll be along—if he isn't waiting now, in the boat."
They descended, the man leading. At the foot, without a glance to right or left, he advanced to the edge of the stage, leaning out over the rail as if endeavoring to locate the rowboat. At once the girl appeared, moving to his side.
"But, Mr. Mulready—"
The girl's words were drowned by a prolonged blast on the boatswain's whistle at her companion's lips; the shorter one followed in due course. Calendar edged forward from Kirkwood's side.
"But what shall we do if my father isn't here? Wait?"
"No; best not to; best to get on the Alethea as soon as possible, Miss Calendar. We can send the boat back."
"'Once aboard the lugger the girl is mine'—eh, Mulready?—to say nothing of the loot!"
If Calendar's words were jocular, his tone conveyed a different impression entirely. Both man and girl wheeled right about to face him, the one with a strangled oath, the other with a low cry.
"The devil!" exclaimed this Mr. Mulready.
"Oh! My father!" the girl voiced her recognition of him.
"Not precisely139 one and the same person," commented Calendar suavely140. "But—er—thanks, just as much.... You see, Mulready, when I make an appointment, I keep it."
"We'd begun to get a bit anxious about you—" Mulready began defensively.
"So I surmised141, from what Mrs. Hallam and Mr. Kirkwood told me.... Well?"
The man found no ready answer. He fell back a pace to the railing, his features working with his deep chagrin142. The murky143 flare92 of the gas-lamp overhead fell across a face handsome beyond the ordinary but marred144 by a sullen145 humor and seamed with indulgence: a face that seemed hauntingly familiar until Kirkwood in a flash of visual memory reconstructed the portrait of a man who lingered over a dining-table, with two empty chairs for company. This, then, was he whom Mrs. Hallam had left at the Pless; a tall, strong man, very heavy about the chest and shoulders....
"Why, my dear friend," Calendar was taunting146 him, "you don't seem overjoyed to see me, for all your wild anxiety! 'Pon my word, you act as if you hadn't expected me—and our engagement so clearly understood, at that! ... Why, you fool!"—here the mask of irony147 was cast. "Did you think for a moment I'd let myself be nabbed by that yap from Scotland Yard? Were you banking148 on that? I give you my faith I ambled107 out under his very nose! ... Dorothy, my dear," turning impatiently from Mulready, "where's that bag?"
The girl withdrew a puzzled gaze from Mulready's face, (it was apparent to Kirkwood that this phase of the affair was no more enigmatic to him than to her), and drew aside a corner of her cloak, disclosing the gladstone bag, securely grasped in one gloved hand.
"I have it, thanks to Mr. Kirkwood," she said quietly.
Kirkwood chose that moment to advance from the shadow. Mulready started and fixed him with a troubled and unfriendly stare. The girl greeted him with a note of sincere pleasure in her surprise.
"Why, Mr. Kirkwood! ... But I left you at Mrs. Hallam's!"
Kirkwood bowed, smiling openly at Mulready's discomfiture149.
"By your father's grace, I came with him," he said. "You ran away without saying good night, you know, and I'm a jealous creditor150."
She laughed excitedly, turning to Calendar. "But you were to meet me at Mrs. Hallam's?"
"Mulready was good enough to try to save me the trouble, my dear. He's an unselfish soul, Mulready. Fortunately it happened that I came along not five minutes after he'd carried you off. How was that, Dorothy?"
Her glance wavered uneasily between the two, Mulready and her father. The former, shrugging to declare his indifference151, turned his back squarely upon them. She frowned.
"He came out of Mrs. Hallam's and got into the four-wheeler, saying you had sent him to take your place, and would join us on the Alethea."
"So-o! How about it, Mulready?"
The man swung back slowly. "What you choose to think," he said after a deliberate pause.
"Well, never mind! We'll go over the matter at our leisure on the Alethea."
There was in the adventurer's tone a menace, bitter and not to be ignored; which Mulready saw fit to challenge.
"I think not," he declared; "I think not. I'm weary of your addle-pated suspicions. It'd be plain to any one but a fool that I acted for the best interests of all concerned in this matter. If you're not content to see it in that light, I'm done."
"Oh, if you want to put it that way, I'm not content, Mr. Mulready," retorted Calendar dangerously.
"Please yourself. I bid you good evening and—good-by." The man took a step toward the stairs.
Calendar dropped his right hand into his top-coat pocket. "Just a minute," he said sweetly, and Mulready stopped. Abruptly the fat adventurer's smoldering152 resentment153 leaped in flame. "That'll be about all, Mr. Mulready! 'Bout24 face, you hound, and get into that boat! D'you think I'll temporize154 with you till Doomsday? Then forget it. You're wrong, dead wrong. Your bluff's called, and"—with an evil chuckle—"I hold a full house, Mulready,—every chamber155 taken." He lifted meaningly the hand in the coat pocket. "Now, in with you."
With a grin and a swagger of pure bravado156 Mulready turned and obeyed. Unnoticed of any, save perhaps Calendar himself, the boat had drawn in at the stage a moment earlier. Mulready dropped into it and threw himself sullenly157 upon the midships thwart103.
"Now, Dorothy, in you go, my dear," continued Calendar, with a self-satisfied wag of his head.
Half dazed, to all seeming, she moved toward the boat. With clumsy and assertive124 gallantry her father stepped before her, offering his hand,—his hand which she did not touch; for, in the act of descending158, she remembered and swung impulsively159 back to Kirkwood.
"Good night, Mr. Kirkwood; good night,—I shan't forget."
He took her hand and bowed above it; but when his head was lifted, he still retained her fingers in a lingering clasp.
"Good night," he said reluctantly.
The crass160 incongruity161 of her in that setting smote162 him with renewed force. Young, beautiful, dainty, brilliant and graceful163 in her pretty evening gown, she figured strangely against the gloomy background of the river, in those dull and mean surroundings of dank stone and rusted10 iron. She was like (he thought extravagantly) a whiff of flower-fragrance lost in the miasmatic164 vapors165 of a slough166.
The innocent appeal and allure167 of her face, upturned to his beneath the gas-light, wrought168 compassionately169 upon his sensitive and generous heart. He was aware of a little surge of blind rage against the conditions that had brought her to that spot, and against those whom he held responsible for those conditions.
In a sudden flush of daring he turned and nodded coolly to Calendar. "With your permission," he said negligently170; and drew the girl aside to the angle of the stairway.
"Miss Calendar—" he began; but was interrupted.
"Here—I say!"
Calendar had started toward him angrily.
Kirkwood calmly waved him back. "I want a word in private with your daughter, Mr. Calendar," he announced with quiet dignity. "I don't think you'll deny me? I've saved you some slight trouble to-night."
Disgruntled, the adventurer paused. "Oh—all right," he grumbled171. "I don't see what ..." He returned to the boat.
"Forgive me, Miss Calendar," continued Kirkwood nervously172. "I know I've no right to interfere173, but—"
"Yes, Mr. Kirkwood?"
"—but hasn't this gone far enough?" he floundered unhappily. "I can't like the look of things. Are you sure—sure that it's all right—with you, I mean?"
She did not answer at once; but her eyes were kind and sympathetic. He plucked heart of their tolerance.
"It isn't too late, yet," he argued. "Let me take you to your friends,—you must have friends in the city. But this—this midnight flight down the Thames, this atmosphere of stealth and suspicion, this—"
"But my place is with my father, Mr. Kirkwood," she interposed. "I daren't doubt him—dare I?"
"I ... suppose not."
"So I must go with him.... I'm glad—thank you for caring, dear Mr. Kirkwood. And again, good night."
"Good luck attend you," he muttered, following her to the boat.
Calendar helped her in and turned back to Kirkwood with a look of arch triumph; Kirkwood wondered if he had overheard. Whether or no, he could afford to be magnanimous. Seizing Kirkwood's hand, he pumped it vigorously.
"My dear boy, you've been an angel in disguise! And I guess you think me the devil in masquerade." He chuckled174, in high conceit175 with himself over the turn of affairs. "Good night and—and fare thee well!" He dropped into the boat, seating himself to face the recalcitrant176 Mulready. "Cast off, there!"
The boat dropped away, the oars lifting and falling. With a weariful sense of loneliness and disappointment, Kirkwood hung over the rail to watch them out of sight.
A dozen feet of water lay between the stage and the boat. The girl's dress remained a spot of cheerful color; her face was a blur177. As the watermen swung the bows down-stream, she looked back, lifting an arm spectral178 in its white sheath. Kirkwood raised his hat.
The boat gathered impetus179, momentarily diminishing in the night's illusory perspective; presently it was little more than a fugitive180 blot181, gliding182 swiftly in midstream. And then, it was gone entirely, engulfed183 by the obliterating184 darkness.
The boat gathered impetus.
Somewhat wearily the young man released the railing and ascended185 the stairs. "And that is the end!" he told himself, struggling with an acute sense of personal injury. He had been hardly used. For a few hours his life had been lightened by the ineffable186 glamor187 of Romance; mystery and adventure had engaged him, exorcising for the time the Shade of Care; he had served a fair woman and been associated with men whose ways, however questionable188, were the ways of courage, hedged thickly about with perils189.
All that was at an end. Prosaic190 and workaday to-morrows confronted him in endless and dreary perspective; and he felt again upon his shoulder the bony hand of his familiar, Care....
He sighed: "Ah, well!"
Disconsolate191 and aggrieved192, he gained the street. He was miles from St. Pancras, foot-weary, to all intents and purposes lost.
In this extremity193, Chance smiled upon him. The cabby who, at his initial instance, had traveled this weary way from Quadrant Mews, after the manner of his kind, ere turning back, had sought surcease of fatigue194 at the nearest public; from afar Kirkwood saw the four-wheeler at the curb195, and made all haste toward it.
Entering the gin-mill he found the cabby, soothed196 him with bitter, and, instructing him for St. Pancras with all speed, dropped, limp and listless with fatigue, into the conveyance197.
As it moved, he closed his eyes; the face of Dorothy Calendar shone out from the blank wall of his consciousness, like an illuminated picture cast upon a screen. She smiled upon him, her head high, her eyes tender and trustful. And he thought that her scarlet198 lips were sweet with promise and her glance a-brim with such a light as he had never dreamed to know.
And now that he knew it and desired it, it was too late; an hour gone he might, by a nod of his head, have cast his fortunes with hers for weal or woe199. But now ... Alas200 and alackaday, that Romance was no more!
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peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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7
apprise
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| vt.通知，告知 | |
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8
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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9
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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12
imputation
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| n.归罪，责难 | |
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13
vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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14
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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15
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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17
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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18
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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19
surmising
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的现在分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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20
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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21
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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22
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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23
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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24
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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25
divested
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| v.剥夺( divest的过去式和过去分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
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26
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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27
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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28
fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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29
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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30
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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31
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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32
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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33
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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34
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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35
steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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36
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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37
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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38
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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39
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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40
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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41
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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42
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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43
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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44
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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45
charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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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
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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48
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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49
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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50
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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51
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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52
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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53
hawser
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| n.大缆；大索 | |
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54
hawsers
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| n.（供系船或下锚用的）缆索，锚链( hawser的名词复数 ) | |
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55
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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56
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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57
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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58
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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59
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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60
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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61
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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62
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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63
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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64
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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65
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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66
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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67
morosely
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| adv.愁眉苦脸地，忧郁地 | |
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68
ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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69
credence
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| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
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70
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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71
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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72
warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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73
warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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74
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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75
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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76
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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77
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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78
detours
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| 绕行的路( detour的名词复数 )； 绕道，兜圈子 | |
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79
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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80
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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81
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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82
benighted
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| adj.蒙昧的 | |
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83
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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84
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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85
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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86
qualms
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| n.不安；内疚 | |
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87
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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89
inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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90
jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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91
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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92
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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93
gustily
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| adv.暴风地，狂风地 | |
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94
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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95
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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96
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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97
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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98
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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99
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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100
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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101
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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102
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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103
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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104
thwarts
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| 阻挠( thwart的第三人称单数 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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105
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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106
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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107
ambled
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的过去式和过去分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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108
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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109
waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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111
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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112
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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113
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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114
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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115
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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116
pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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117
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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118
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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119
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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120
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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121
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
pertinent
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| adj.恰当的；贴切的；中肯的；有关的；相干的 | |
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123
assertively
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| 断言地，独断地 | |
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124
assertive
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| adj.果断的，自信的，有冲劲的 | |
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125
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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126
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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127
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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128
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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129
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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130
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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131
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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133
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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135
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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136
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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137
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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138
attuned
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| v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 )；调音 | |
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139
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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140
suavely
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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
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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143
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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144
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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145
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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146
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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147
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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148
banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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149
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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150
creditor
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| n.债仅人，债主，贷方 | |
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151
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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152
smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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153
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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154
temporize
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| v.顺应时势；拖延 | |
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155
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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156
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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157
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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158
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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159
impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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160
crass
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| adj.愚钝的，粗糙的；彻底的 | |
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161
incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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162
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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miasmatic
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| adj.毒气的，沼气的 | |
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vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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166
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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allure
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| n.诱惑力，魅力；vt.诱惑，引诱，吸引 | |
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168
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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169
compassionately
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| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
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170
negligently
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171
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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172
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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173
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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174
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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175
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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176
recalcitrant
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| adj.倔强的 | |
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177
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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178
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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179
impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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180
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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181
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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182
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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183
engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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184
obliterating
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| v.除去( obliterate的现在分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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185
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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186
ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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187
glamor
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| n.魅力，吸引力 | |
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188
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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189
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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190
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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191
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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192
aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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193
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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194
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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195
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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196
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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197
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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198
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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199
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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200
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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