An adjacent but theretofore abstracted policeman pricked4 up his ears and assumed an intelligent expression.
"Bermondsey Ol' Stairs to Sain' Pancras," argued the cabby assertively6; "seven mile by th' radius7; three 'n' six!"
Kirkwood stood on the outer station platform, near the entrance to third-class waiting-rooms. Continuing to fumble8 through his pockets for an elusive9 sovereign purse, he looked up mildly at the man.
"All right, cabby," he said, with pacific purpose; "you'll get your fare in half a shake."
"Three 'n' six!" croaked10 the cabby, like a blowsy and vindictive11 parrot.
The bobby strolled nearer.
"Yes?" said Kirkwood, mildly diverted. "Why not sing it, cabby?"
"Lor' lumme!" The cabby exploded with indignation, continuing to give a lifelike imitation of a rumpled12 parrot. "I 'ad trouble enough wif you at Bermondsey Ol' Stairs, hover13 that quid you promised, didn't I? Sing it! My heye!"
"Quid, cabby?" And then, remembering that he had promised the fellow a sovereign for fast driving from Quadrant Mews, Kirkwood grinned broadly, eyes twinkling; for Mulready must have fallen heir to that covenant14. "But you got the sovereign? You got it, didn't you, cabby?"
The driver affirmed the fact with unnecessary heat and profanity and an amendment15 to the effect that he would have spoiled his fare's sanguinary conk had the outcome been less satisfactory.
The information proved so amusing that Kirkwood, chuckling16, forbore to resent the manner of its delivery, and, abandoning until a more favorable time the chase of the coy sovereign purse, extracted from one trouser pocket half a handful of large English small change.
"Three shillings, six-pence," he counted the coins into the cabby's grimy and bloated paw; and added quietly: "The exact distance is rather less than, four miles, my man; your fare, precisely17 two shillings. You may keep the extra eighteen pence, for being such a conscientious18 blackguard,—or talk it over with the officer here. Please yourself."
He nodded to the bobby, who, favorably impressed by the silk hat which Kirkwood, by diligent19 application of his sleeve during the cross-town ride, had managed to restore to a state somewhat approximating its erstwhile luster20, smiled at the cabby a cold, hard smile. Whereupon the latter, smirking21 in unabashed triumph, spat22 on the pavement at Kirkwood's feet, gathered up the reins23, and wheeled out.
"A 'ard lot, sir," commented the policeman, jerking his helmeted head towards the vanishing four-wheeler.
"Right you are," agreed Kirkwood amiably24, still tickled25 by the knowledge that Mulready had been obliged to pay three times over for the ride that ended in his utter discomfiture26. Somehow, Kirkwood had conceived no liking27 whatever for the man; Calendar he could, at a pinch, tolerate for his sense of humor, but Mulready—! "A surly dog," he thought him.
Acknowledging the policeman's salute28 and restoring two shillings and a few fat copper29 pennies to his pocket, he entered the vast and echoing train-shed. In the act, his attention was attracted and immediately riveted30 by the spectacle of a burly luggage navvy in a blue jumper in the act of making off with a large, folding sign-board, of which the surface was lettered expansively with the advice, in red against a white background:
BOAT-TRAIN LEAVES ON TRACK 3
Incredulous yet aghast the young man gave instant chase to the navvy, overhauling31 him with no great difficulty. For your horny-handed British working-man is apparently32 born with two golden aphorisms33 in his mouth: "Look before you leap," and "Haste makes waste." He looks continually, seldom, if ever, leaps, and never is prodigal34 of his leisure.
Excitedly Kirkwood touched the man's arm with a detaining hand. "Boat-train?" he gasped35, pointing at the board.
"Left ten minutes ago, thank you, sir."
"Wel-l, but...! Of course I can get another train at Tilbury?"
"For yer boat? No, sir, thank you, sir. Won't be another tryne till mornin', sir."
"Oh-h!..."
Aimlessly Kirkwood drifted away, his mind a blank.
Sometime later he found himself on the steps outside the station, trying to stare out of countenance36 a glaring electric mineral-water advertisement on the farther side of the Euston Road.
He was stranded37....
Beyond the spiked38 iron fence that enhedges the incurving drive, the roar of traffic, human, wheel and hoof40, rose high for all the lateness of the hour: sidewalks groaning41 with the restless contact of hundreds of ill-shod feet; the roadway thundering—hansoms, four-wheelers, motor-cars, dwarfed42 coster-mongers' donkey-carts and ponderous43, rumbling44, C.-P. motor-vans, struggling for place and progress. For St. Pancras never sleeps.
The misty45 air swam luminous46 with the light of electric signs as with the radiance of some lurid47 and sinister48 moon. The voice of London sounded in Kirkwood's ears, like the ominous49 purring of a somnolent50 brute51 beast, resting, gorged52 and satiated, ere rising again to devour53. To devour—
Stranded!...
Distracted, he searched pocket after pocket, locating his watch, cigar- and cigarette-cases, match-box, penknife—all the minuti? of pocket-hardware affected54 by civilized55 man; with old letters, a card-case, a square envelope containing his steamer ticket; but no sovereign purse. His small-change pocket held less than three shillings—two and eight, to be exact—and a brass56 key, which he failed to recognize as one of his belongings57.
And that was all. At sometime during the night he had lost (or been cunningly bereft58 of?) that little purse of chamois-skin containing the three golden sovereigns which he had been husbanding to pay his steamer expenses, and which, if only he had them now, would stand between him and starvation and a night in the streets.
And, searching his heart, he found it brimming with gratitude59 to Mulready, for having relieved him of the necessity of settling with the cabby.
"Vagabond?" said Kirkwood musingly60. "Vagabond?" He repeated the word softly a number of times, to get the exact flavor of it, and found it little to his taste. And yet...
He thrust both hands deep in his trouser pockets and stared purposelessly into space, twisting his eyebrows61 out of alignment62 and crookedly63 protruding64 his lower lip.
If Brentwick were only in town—But he wasn't, and wouldn't be, within the week.
"No good waiting here," he concluded. Composing his face, he re?ntered the station. There were his trunks, of course. He couldn't leave them standing65 on the station platform for ever.
He found the luggage-room and interviewed a mechanically courteous66 attendant, who, as the result of profound deliberation, advised him to try his luck at the lost-luggage room, across the station. He accepted the advice; it was a foregone conclusion that his effects had not been conveyed to the Tilbury dock; they could not have been loaded into the luggage van without his personal supervision67. Still, anything was liable to happen when his unlucky star was in the ascendant.
He found them in the lost-luggage room.
A clerk helped him identify the articles and ultimately clucked with a perfunctory note: "Sixpence each, please."
"I—ah—pardon?"
"Sixpence each, the fixed69 charge, sir. For every twenty-four hours or fraction thereof, sixpence per parcel."
"Oh, thank you so much," said Kirkwood sweetly. "I will call to-morrow."
"Very good, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Five times sixpence is two-and-six," Kirkwood computed70, making his way hastily out of the station, lest a worse thing befall him. "No, bless your heart!—not while two and eight represents the sum total of my fortune."
He wandered out into the night; he could not linger round the station till dawn; and what profit to him if he did? Even were he to ransom71 his trunks, one can scarcely change one's clothing in a public waiting-room.
Somewhere in the distance a great clock chimed a single stroke, freighted sore with melancholy72. It knelled73 the passing of the half-hour after midnight; a witching hour, when every public shuts up tight, and gentlemen in top-hats and evening dress are doomed74 to pace the pave till day (barring they have homes or visible means of support)—till day, when pawnshops open and such personal effects as watches and hammered silver cigar-cases may be hypothecated.
Sable76 garments fluttering, Care fell into step with Philip Kirkwood; Care the inexorable slipped a skeleton arm through his and would not be denied; Care the jade77 clung affectionately to his side, refusing to be jilted.
"Ah, you thought you would forget me?" chuckled78 the fleshless lips by his ear. "But no, my boy; I'm with you now, for ever and a day. 'Misery79 loves company,' and it wouldn't be pretty of me to desert you in this extremity80, would it? Come, let us beguile81 the hours till dawn with conversation. Here's a sprightly82 subject: What are you going to do, Mr. Kirkwood? What are you going to do?"
But Kirkwood merely shook a stubborn head and gazed straight before him, walking fast through ways he did not recognize, and pretending not to hear. None the less the sense of Care's solicitous83 query84 struck like a pain into his consciousness. What was he to do?
An hour passed.
Denied the opportunity to satisfy its beast hunger and thirst, humanity goes off to its beds. In that hour London quieted wonderfully; the streets achieved an effect of deeper darkness, the skies, lowering, looked down with a blush less livid for the shamelessness of man; cab ranks lengthened85; solitary86 footsteps added unto themselves loud, alarming, offensive echoes; policemen, strolling with lamps blazing on their breasts, became as lightships in a trackless sea; each new-found street unfolded its perspective like a canyon87 of mystery, and yet teeming88 with a hundred masked hazards; the air acquired a smell more clear and clean, an effect more volatile89; and the night-mist thickened until it studded one's attire90 with myriads91 of tiny buttons, bright as diamond dust.
Through this long hour Kirkwood walked without a pause.
Another clock, somewhere, clanged resonantly92 twice.
The world was very still....
And so, wandering foot-loose in a wilderness93 of ways, turning aimlessly, now right, now left, he found himself in a street he knew, yet seemed not to know: a silent, black street one brief block in length, walled with dead and lightless dwellings95, haunted by his errant memory; a street whose atmosphere was heavy with impalpable essence of desuetude96; in two words, Frognall Street.
Kirkwood identified it with a start and a guilty tremor98. He stopped stock-still, in an unreasoning state of semi-panic, arrested by a silly impulse to turn and fly; as if the bobby, whom he descried99 approaching him with measured stride, pausing now and again to try a door or flash his bull's-eye down an area, were to be expected to identify the man responsible for that damnable racket raised ere midnight in vacant Number 9!
Oddly enough, the shock of recognition brought him to his senses,—temporarily. He was even able to indulge himself in a quiet, sobering grin at his own folly100. He passed the policeman with a nod and a cool word in response to the man's good-natured, "Good-night, sir." Number 9 was on the other side of the street; and he favored its blank and dreary101 elevation with a prolonged and frank stare—that profited him nothing, by the way. For a crazy notion popped incontinently into his head, and would not be cast forth102.
At the corner he swerved103 and crossed, still possessed104 of his devil of inspiration. It would be unfair to him to say that he did not struggle to resist it, for he did, because it was fairly and egregiously105 asinine106; yet struggling, his feet trod the path to which it tempted107 him.
"Why," he expostulated feebly, "I might's well turn back and beat that bobby over the head with my cane108!..."
But at the moment his hand was in his change pocket, feeling over that same brass door-key which earlier he had been unable to account for, and he was informing himself how very easy it would have been for the sovereign purse to have dropped from his waistcoat pocket while he was sliding on his ear down the dark staircase. To recover it meant, at the least, shelter for the night, followed by a decent, comfortable and sustaining morning meal. Fortified109 by both he could redeem110 his luggage, change to clothing more suitable for daylight traveling, pawn75 his valuables, and enter into negotiations111 with the steamship112 company for permission to exchange his passage, with a sum to boot, for transportation on another liner. A most feasible project! A temptation all but irresistible113!
But then—the risk.... Supposing (for the sake of argument) the customary night-watchman to have taken up a transient residence in Number 9; supposing the police to have entered with him and found the stunned114 man on the second floor: would the watchman not be vigilant115 for another nocturnal marauder? would not the police now, more than ever, be keeping a wary116 eye on that house of suspicious happenings?
Decidedly, to re?nter it would be to incur39 a deadly risk. And yet, undoubtedly117, beyond question! his sovereign purse was waiting for him somewhere on the second flight of stairs; while as his means of clandestine118 entry lay warm in his fingers—the key to the dark entry, which he had by force of habit pocketed after locking the door.
He came to the Hog-in-the-Pound. Its windows were dim with low-turned gas-lights. Down the covered alleyway, Quadrant Mews slept in a dusk but fitfully relieved by a lamp or two round which the friendly mist clung close and thick.
There would be none to see....
Skulking120, throat swollen121 with fear, heart beating like a snare-drum, Kirkwood took his chance. Buttoning his overcoat collar up to his chin and cursing the fact that his hat must stand out like a chimney-pot on a detached house, he sped on tiptoe down the cobbled way and close beneath the house-walls of Quadrant Mews. But, half-way in, he stopped, confounded by an unforeseen difficulty. How was he to identify the narrow entry of Number 9, whose counterparts doubtless communicated with the mews from every residence on four sides of the city block?
The low inner tenements122 were yet high enough to hide the rear elevations123 of Frognall Street houses, and the mist was heavy besides; otherwise he had made shift to locate Number 9 by ticking off the dwellings from the corner. If he went on, hit or miss, the odds124 were anything-you-please to one that he would blunder into the servant's quarters of some inhabited house, and—be promptly125 and righteously sat upon by the service-staff, while the bobby was summoned.
Be that as it might—he almost lost his head when he realized this—escape was already cut off by the way he had come. Some one, or, rather, some two men were entering the alley119. He could hear the tramping and shuffle126 of clumsy feet, and voices that muttered indistinctly. One seemed to trip over something, and cursed. The other laughed; the voices grew more loud. They were coming his way. He dared no longer vacillate.
But—which passage should he choose?
He moved on with more haste than discretion127. One heel slipped on a cobble time-worn to glassy smoothness; he lurched, caught himself up in time to save a fall, lost his hat, recovered it, and was discovered. A voice, maudlin128 with drink, hailed and called upon him to stand and give an account of himself, "like a goo' feller." Another tempted him with offers of drink and sociable129 confabulation. He yielded not; adamantine to the seductive lure130, he picked up his heels and ran. Those behind him, remarking with resentment131 the amazing fact that an intimate of the mews should run away from liquor, cursed and made after him, veering132, staggering, howling like ravening133 animals.
For all their burden of intoxication134, they knew the ground by instinct and from long association. They gained on him. Across the way a window-sash went up with a bang, and a woman screamed. Through the only other entrance to the mews a belated cab was homing; its driver, getting wind of the unusual, pulled up, blocking the way, and added his advice to the uproar135.
Caught thus between two fires, and with his persecutors hard upon him, Kirkwood dived into the nearest black hole of a passageway and in sheer desperation flung himself, key in hand, against the door at the end. Mark how his luck served him who had forsworn her! He found a keyhole and inserted the key. It turned. So did the knob. The door gave inward. He fell in with it, slammed it, shot the bolts, and, panting, leaned against its panels, in a pit of everlasting137 night but—saved!—for the time being, at all events.
Outside somebody brushed against one wall, cannoned138 to the other, brought up with a crash against the door, and, perforce at a standstill, swore from his heart.
"Gorblimy!" he declared feelingly. "I'd 'a' took my oath I sore'm run in 'ere!" And then, in answer to an inaudible question: "No, 'e ain't. Gorn an' let the fool go to 'ell. 'Oo wants 'im to share goo' liker? Not I!..."
Joining his companion he departed, leaving behind him a trail of sulphur-tainted air. The mews quieted gradually. Indoors Kirkwood faced unhappily the enigma139 of fortuity, wondering: Was this by any possibility Number 9? The key had fitted; the bolts had been drawn140 on the inside; and while the key had been one of ordinary pattern and would no doubt have proven effectual with any one of a hundred common locks, the finger of probability seemed to indicate that his luck had brought him back to Number 9. In spite of all this, he was sensible of little confidence; though this were truly Number 9, his freedom still lay on the knees of the gods, his very life, belike, was poised141, tottering142, on a pinnacle143 of chance. In the end, taking heart of desperation, he stooped and removed his shoes; a precaution which later appealed to his sense of the ridiculous, in view of the racket he had raised in entering, but which at the moment seemed most natural and in accordance with common sense. Then rising, he held his breath, staring and listening. About him the pitch darkness was punctuated144 with fading points of fire, and in his ears was a noise of strange whisperings, very creepy—until, gritting145 his teeth, he controlled his nerves and gradually realized that he was alone, the silence undisturbed. He went forward gingerly, feeling his way like a blind man on strange ground. Ere long he stumbled over a door-sill and found that the walls of the passage had fallen away; he had entered a room, a black cavern146 of indeterminate dimensions. Across this he struck at random147, walked himself flat against a wall, felt his way along to an open door, and passed through to another apartment as dark as the first.
Here, endeavoring to make a circuit of the walls, he succeeded in throwing himself bodily across a bed, which creaked horribly; and for a full minute lay as he had fallen, scarce daring to think. But nothing followed, and he got up and found a shut door which let him into yet a third room, wherein he barked both shins on a chair; and escaped to a fourth whose atmosphere was highly flavored with reluctant odors of bygone cookery, stale water and damp plumbing—probably the kitchen. Thence progressing over complaining floors through what may have been the servants' hall, a large room with a table in the middle and a number of promiscuous148 chairs (witness his tortured shins!), he finally blundered into the basement hallway.
By now a little calmer, he felt assured that this was really Number 9, Frognall Street, and a little happier about it all, though not even momentarily forgetful of the potential police and night-watchman.
However, he mounted the steps to the ground floor without adventure and found himself at last in the same dim and ghostly hall which he had entered some six hours before; the mockery of dusk admitted by the fan-light was just strong enough to enable him to identify the general lay of the land and arrangement of furniture.
More confidently with each uncontested step, he continued his quest. Elation149 was stirring his spirit when he gained the first floor and moved toward the foot of the second flight, approaching the spot whereat he was to begin the search for the missing purse. The knowledge that he lacked means of obtaining illumination deterred150 him nothing; he had some hope of finding matches in one of the adjacent rooms, but, failing that, was prepared to ascend68 the stairs on all fours, feeling every inch of their surface, if it took hours. Ever an optimistic soul, instinctively151 inclined to father faith with a hope, he felt supremely152 confident that his search would not prove fruitless, that he would win early release from his temporary straits.
And thus it fell out that, at the instant he was thinking it time to begin to crawl and hunt, his stockinged feet came into contact with something heavy, yielding, warm—something that moved, moaned, and caused his hair to bristle153 and his flesh to creep.
We will make allowances for him; all along he had gone on the assumption that his antagonist154 of the dark stairway would have recovered and made off with all expedition, in the course of ten or twenty minutes, at most, from the time of his accident. To find him still there was something entirely155 outside of Kirkwood's reckoning: he would as soon have thought to encounter say, Calendar,—would have preferred the latter, indeed. But this fellow whose disability was due to his own interference, who was reasonably to be counted upon to raise the very deuce and all of a row!
The initial shock, however shattering to his equanimity156, soon, lost effect. The man evidently remained unconscious, in fact had barely moved; while the moan that Kirkwood heard, had been distressingly157 faint.
"Poor devil!" murmured the young man. "He must be in a pretty bad way, for sure!" He knelt, compassion158 gentling his heart, and put one hand to the insentient face. A warm sweat moistened his fingers; his palm was fanned by steady respiration159.
Immeasurably perplexed160, the American rose, slipped on his shoes and buttoned them, thinking hard the while. What ought he to do? Obviously flight suggested itself,—incontinent flight, anticipating the man's recovery. On the other hand, indubitably the latter had sustained such injury that consciousness, when it came to him, would hardly be reinforced by much aggressive power. Moreover, it was to be remembered that the one was in that house with quite as much warrant as the other, unless Kirkwood had drawn a rash inference from the incident of the ragged161 sentry162. The two of them were mutual163, if antagonistic164, trespassers; neither would dare bring about the arrest of the other. And then—and this was not the least consideration to influence Kirkwood—perhaps the fellow would die if he got no attention.
Kirkwood shut his teeth grimly. "I'm no assassin," he informed himself, "to strike and run. If I've maimed this poor devil and there are consequences, I'll stand 'em. The Lord knows it doesn't matter a damn to anybody, not even to me, what happens to me; while he may be valuable."
Light upon the subject, actual as well as figurative, seemed to be the first essential; his mind composed, Kirkwood set himself in search of it. The floor he was on, however, afforded him no assistance; the mantels were guiltless of candles and he discovered no matches, either in the wide and silent drawing-room, with its ghastly furniture, like mummies in their linen165 swathings, or in the small boudoir at the back. He was to look either above or below, it seemed.
After some momentary166 hesitation167, he went up-stairs, his ascent168 marked by a single and grateful accident; half-way to the top he trod on an object that clinked underfoot, and, stooping, retrieved169 the lost purse. Thus was he justified170 of his temerity171; the day was saved—that is, to-morrow was.
The rooms of the second-floor were bedchambers, broad, deep, stately, inhabited by seven devils of loneliness. In one, on a dresser, Kirkwood found a stump172 of candle in a china candlestick; the two charred173 ends of matches at its base were only an irritating discovery, however—evidence that real matches had been the mode in Number 9, at some remote date. Disgusted and oppressed by cumulative174 inquisitiveness175, he took the candle-end back to the hall; he would have given much for the time and means to make a more detailed176 investigation177 into the secret of the house.
Perhaps it was mostly his hope of chancing on some clue to the mystery of Dorothy Calender—bewitching riddle178 that she was!—that fascinated his imagination so completely. Aside from her altogether, the great house that stood untenanted, yet in such complete order, so self-contained in its darkened quiet, intrigued179 him equally with the train of inexplicable180 events that had brought him within its walls. Now—since his latest entrance—his vision had adjusted itself to cope with the obscurity to some extent; and the street lights, meagerly reflected through the windows from the bosom181 of a sullen182 pall183 of cloud, low-swung above the city, had helped him to piece together many a detail of decoration and furnishing, alike somber184 and richly dignified185. Kirkwood told himself that the owner, whoever he might be, was a man of wealth and taste inherited from another age; he had found little of meretricious186 to-day in the dwelling94, much that was solid and sedate187 and homely188, and—Victorian.... He could have wished for more; a box of early Victorian vestas had been highly acceptable.
Making his way down-stairs to the stricken man—who was quite as he had been—Kirkwood bent189 over and thrust rifling fingers into his pockets, regardless of the wretched sense of guilt97 and sneakishness imparted by the action, stubbornly heedless of the possibility of the man's awakening190 to find himself being searched and robbed.
In the last place he sought, which should (he realized) have been the first, to wit, the fob pocket of the white waistcoat, he found a small gold matchbox, packed tight with wax vestas; and, berating191 himself for crass192 stupidity—he had saved a deal of time and trouble by thinking of this before—lighted the candle.
As its golden flame shot up with scarce a tremor, preyed193 upon by a perfectly194 excusable concern, he bent to examine the man's countenance.... The arm which had partly hidden it had fallen back into a natural position. It was a young face that gleamed pallid195 in the candlelight—a face unlined, a little vapid196 and insignificant197, with features regular and neat, betraying few characteristics other than the purely198 negative attributes of a character as yet unformed, possibly unformable; much the sort of a face that he might have expected to see, remembering those thin and pouting199 lips that before had impressed him. Its owner was probably little more than twenty. In his attire there was a suspicion of a fop's preciseness, aside from its accidental disarray200; the cut of his waistcoat was the extreme of the then fashion, the white tie (twisted beneath one ear) an exaggerated "butterfly," his collar nearly an inch too tall; and he was shod with pumps suitable only for the dancing-floor,—a whim201 of the young-bloods of London of that year.
"I can't make him out at all!" declared Kirkwood. "The son of a gentleman too weak to believe that cubs202 need licking into shape? Reared to man's estate, so sheltered from the wicked world that he never grew a bark?... The sort that never had a quarrel in his life, 'cept with his tailor?... Now what the devil is this thing doing in this midnight mischief203?... Damn!"
It was most exasperating204, the incongruity205 of the boy's appearance assorted206 with his double r?le of persecutor136 of distressed207 damsels and nocturnal house-breaker!
Kirkwood bent closer above the motionless head, with puzzled eyes striving to pin down some elusive resemblance that he thought to trace in those vacuous208 features—a resemblance to some one he had seen, or known, at some past time, somewhere, somehow.
"I give it up. Guess I'm mistaken. Anyhow, five young Englishmen out of every ten of his class are just as blond and foolish. Now let's see how bad he's hurt."
With hands strong and gentle, he turned the round, light head. Then, "Ah!" he commented in the accent of comprehension. For there was an angry looking bump at the base of the skull209; and, the skin having been broken, possibly in collision with the sharp-edged newel-post, a little blood had stained and matted the straw-colored hair.
Kirkwood let the head down and took thought. Recalling a bath-room on the floor above, thither210 he went, unselfishly forgetful of his predicament if discovered, and, turning on the water, sopped211 his handkerchief until it dripped. Then, returning, he took the boy's head on his knees, washed the wound, purloined212 another handkerchief (of silk, with a giddy border) from the other's pocket, and of this manufactured a rude but serviceable bandage.
Toward the conclusion of his attentions, the sufferer began to show signs of returning animation213. He stirred restlessly, whimpered a little, and sighed. And Kirkwood, in consternation214, got up.
"So!" he commented ruefully. "I guess I am an ass5, all right—taking all that trouble for you, my friend. If I've got a grain of sense left, this is my cue to leave you alone in your glory."
He was lingering only to restore to the boy's pockets such articles as he had removed in the search for matches,—the match-box, a few silver coins, a bulky sovereign purse, a handsome, plain gold watch, and so forth. But ere he concluded he was aware that the boy was conscious, that his eyes, open and blinking in the candlelight, were upon him.
They were blue eyes, blue and shallow as a doll's, and edged with long, fine lashes215. Intelligence, of a certain degree, was rapidly informing them. Kirkwood returned their questioning glance, transfixed in indecision, his primal216 impulse to cut-and-run for it was gone; he had nothing to fear from this child who could not prevent his going whenever he chose to go; while by remaining he might perchance worm from him something about the girl.
"You're feeling better?" He was almost surprised to hear his own voice put the query.
"I—I think so. Ow, my head!... I say, you chap, whoever you are, what's happened?... I want to get up." The boy added peevishly217: "Help a fellow, can't you?"
"You've had a nasty fall," Kirkwood observed evenly, passing an arm beneath the boy's shoulder and helping218 him to a sitting position. "Do you remember?"
The other snuffled childishly and scrubbed across the floor to rest his back against the wall.
"Why-y ... I remember fallin'; and then ... I woke up and it was all dark and my head achin' fit to split. I presume I went to sleep again ... I say, what're you, doing here?"
Instead of replying, Kirkwood lifted a warning finger.
"Hush219!" he said tensely, alarmed by noises in the street. "You don't suppose—?"
He had been conscious of a carriage rolling up from the corner, as well as that it had drawn up (presumably) before a near-by dwelling. Now the rattle220 of a key in the hall-door was startlingly audible. Before he could move, the door itself opened with a slam.
Kirkwood moved toward the stair-head, and drew back with a cry of disgust. "Too late!" he told himself bitterly; his escape was cut off. He could run up-stairs and hide, of course, but the boy would inform against him and....
He buttoned up his coat, settled his hat on his head, and moved near the candle, where it rested on the floor. One glimpse would suffice to show him the force of the intruders, and one move of his foot put out the light; then—perhaps—he might be able to rush them.
Below, a brief pause had followed the noise of the door, as if those entering were standing, irresolute221, undecided which way to turn; but abruptly222 enough the glimmer223 of candlelight must have been noticed. Kirkwood heard a hushed exclamation224, a quick clatter225 of high heels on the parquetry, pattering feet on the stairs, all but drowned by swish and ripple226 of silken skirts; and a woman stood at the head of the flight—to the American an apparition227 profoundly amazing as she paused, the light from the floor casting odd, theatric shadows beneath her eyes and over her brows, edging her eyes themselves with brilliant light beneath their dark lashes, showing her lips straight and drawn, and shimmering228 upon the spangles of an evening gown, visible beneath the dark cloak which had fallen back from her white, beautiful shoulders.
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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enunciated
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| v.（清晰地）发音( enunciate的过去式和过去分词 )；确切地说明 | |
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truculently
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4
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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5
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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6
assertively
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| 断言地，独断地 | |
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7
radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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8
fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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9
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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10
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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11
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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12
rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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14
covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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15
amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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16
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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17
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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18
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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19
diligent
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| adj.勤勉的，勤奋的 | |
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20
luster
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| n.光辉；光泽，光亮；荣誉 | |
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21
smirking
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| v.傻笑( smirk的现在分词 ) | |
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22
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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23
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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24
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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25
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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26
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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27
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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28
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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29
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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30
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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31
overhauling
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| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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32
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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33
aphorisms
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| 格言，警句( aphorism的名词复数 ) | |
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34
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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35
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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36
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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37
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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38
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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39
incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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40
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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41
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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42
dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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43
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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44
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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45
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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46
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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47
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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48
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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49
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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50
somnolent
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| adj.想睡的，催眠的；adv.瞌睡地；昏昏欲睡地；使人瞌睡地 | |
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51
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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52
gorged
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| v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的过去式和过去分词 )；作呕 | |
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53
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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54
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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55
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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56
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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57
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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58
bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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59
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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60
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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61
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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62
alignment
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| n.队列；结盟，联合 | |
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63
crookedly
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|
| adv. 弯曲地，不诚实地 | |
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64
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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65
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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66
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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67
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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68
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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69
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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70
computed
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| adj.[医]计算的，使用计算机的v.计算，估算( compute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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72
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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73
knelled
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| v.丧钟声( knell的过去式和过去分词 )；某事物结束的象征 | |
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74
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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75
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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76
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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77
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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78
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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80
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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81
beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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82
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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83
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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84
query
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|
| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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85
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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86
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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87
canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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88
teeming
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|
| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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89
volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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90
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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91
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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92
resonantly
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| adv.共鸣地，反响地 | |
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93
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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94
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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95
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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96
desuetude
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| n.废止，不用 | |
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97
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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98
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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99
descried
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| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
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100
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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101
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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102
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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103
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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104
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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105
egregiously
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| adv.过份地，卓越地 | |
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106
asinine
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| adj.愚蠢的 | |
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107
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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108
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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109
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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110
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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111
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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112
steamship
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| n.汽船，轮船 | |
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113
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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114
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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115
vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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116
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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117
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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118
clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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119
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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120
skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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121
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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122
tenements
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| n.房屋，住户，租房子( tenement的名词复数 ) | |
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123
elevations
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| （水平或数量）提高( elevation的名词复数 )； 高地； 海拔； 提升 | |
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124
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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125
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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126
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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127
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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128
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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129
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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130
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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131
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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132
veering
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| n.改变的；犹豫的；顺时针方向转向；特指使船尾转向上风来改变航向v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的现在分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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133
ravening
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| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
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134
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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135
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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136
persecutor
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| n. 迫害者 | |
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137
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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138
cannoned
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| vi.与…猛撞（cannon的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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139
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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140
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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141
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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142
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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143
pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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144
punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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145
gritting
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的现在分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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146
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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147
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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148
promiscuous
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| adj.杂乱的，随便的 | |
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149
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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150
deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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152
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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153
bristle
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| v.（毛发）直立，气势汹汹，发怒；n.硬毛发 | |
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154
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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155
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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156
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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157
distressingly
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| adv. 令人苦恼地；悲惨地 | |
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158
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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159
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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160
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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161
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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162
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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163
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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164
antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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165
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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166
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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167
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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168
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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169
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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170
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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171
temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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172
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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173
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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174
cumulative
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| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
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175
inquisitiveness
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| 好奇，求知欲 | |
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176
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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177
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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178
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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179
intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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180
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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181
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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182
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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183
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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184
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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185
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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186
meretricious
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| adj.华而不实的，俗艳的 | |
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187
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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188
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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189
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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190
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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191
berating
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| v.严厉责备，痛斥( berate的现在分词 ) | |
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192
crass
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| adj.愚钝的，粗糙的；彻底的 | |
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193
preyed
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| v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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194
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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195
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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196
vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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197
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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198
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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199
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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200
disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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201
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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202
cubs
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| n.幼小的兽，不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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203
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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204
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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205
incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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206
assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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207
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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208
vacuous
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| adj.空的，漫散的，无聊的，愚蠢的 | |
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209
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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210
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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211
sopped
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| adj.湿透的，浸透的v.将（面包等）在液体中蘸或浸泡( sop的过去式和过去分词 )；用海绵、布等吸起（液体等） | |
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212
purloined
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| v.偷窃( purloin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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213
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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214
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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215
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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216
primal
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| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
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217
peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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218
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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219
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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220
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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221
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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222
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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223
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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224
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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225
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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226
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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227
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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228
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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