Not for an instant did I doubt the correctness of this identification. All the pictures I had seen of this well-known society belle1 had been marked by an individuality of expression which fixed2 her face in the memory and which I now saw repeated in the lifeless features before me.
Greatly startled by the discovery, but quite convinced that this was but the dreadful sequel of an already sufficiently4 dark tragedy, I proceeded to take such steps as are common in these cases. Having sent the too-willing Hibbard to notify headquarters, I was on the point of making a memorandum5 of such details as seemed important, when my lantern suddenly went out, leaving me in total darkness.
This was far from pleasant, but the effect it produced upon my mind was not without its result. For no sooner did I find myself alone and in the unrelieved darkness of this grave-like room, than I became convinced that no woman, however frenzied6, would make her plunge7 into an unknown existence from the midst of a darkness only too suggestive of the tomb to which she was hastening. It was not in nature, not in woman's nature, at all events. Either she had committed the final act before such daylight as could filter through the shutters8 of this closed-up room had quite disappeared,—an hypothesis instantly destroyed by the warmth which still lingered in certain portions of her body,—or else the light which had been burning when she pulled the fatal trigger had since been carried elsewhere or extinguished.
Recalling the uncertain gleams which we had seen flashing from one of the upper windows, I was inclined to give some credence10 to the former theory, but was disposed to be fair to both. So after relighting my lamp, I turned on one of the gas cocks of the massive chandelier over my head and applied11 a match. The result was just what I anticipated; no gas in the pipes. A meter had not been put in for the wedding. This the papers had repeatedly stated in dwelling12 upon the garish13 effect of the daylight on the elaborate costumes worn by the ladies. Candles had not even been provided—ah, candles! What, then, was it that I saw glittering on a small table at the other end of the room? Surely a candlestick, or rather an old-fashioned candelabrum with a half-burned candle in one of its sockets14. Hastily crossing to it, I felt of the candlewick. It was quite stiff and hard. But not considering this a satisfactory proof that it had not been lately burning—the tip of a wick soon dries after the flame is blown out—I took out my penknife and attacked the wick at what might be called its root; whereupon I found that where the threads had been protected by the wax they were comparatively soft and penetrable15. The conclusion was obvious. True to my instinct in this matter the woman had not lifted her weapon in darkness; this candle had been burning. But here my thoughts received a fresh shock. If burning, then by whom had it since been blown out? Not by her; her wound was too fatally sure for that. The steps taken between the table where the candelabrum stood and the place where she lay, were taken, if taken at all by her, before that shot was fired. Some one else—some one whose breath still lingered in the air about me—had extinguished this candle-flame after she fell, and the death I looked down upon was not a suicide, but a murder.
The excitement which this discovery caused to tingle16 through my every nerve had its birth in the ambitious feeling referred to in the opening paragraph of this narrative17. I believed that my long-sought-for opportunity had come; that with the start given me by the conviction just stated, I should be enabled to collect such clues and establish such facts as would lead to the acceptance of this new theory instead of the apparent one of suicide embraced by Hibbard and about to be promulgated18 at police headquarters. If so, what a triumph would be mine; and what a debt I should owe to the crabbed19 old gentleman whose seemingly fantastic fears had first drawn20 me to this place!
Realizing the value of the opportunity afforded me by the few minutes I was likely to spend alone on this scene of crime, I proceeded to my task with that directness and method which I had always promised myself should characterize my first success in detective work.
First, then, for another look at the fair young victim herself! What a line of misery21 on the brow! What dark hollows disfiguring cheeks otherwise as delicate as the petals22 of a rose! An interesting, if not absolutely beautiful face, it told me something I could hardly put into words; so that it was like leaving a fascinating but unsolved mystery when I finally turned from it to study the hands, each of which presented a separate problem. That offered by the right wrist you already know—the long white ribbon connecting it with the discharged pistol. But the secret concealed23 by the left, while less startling, was perhaps fully24 as significant. All the rings were gone, even the wedding ring which had been placed there such a short time before. Had she been robbed? There were no signs of violence visible nor even such disturbances26 as usually follow despoliation27 by a criminal's hand. The boa of delicate black net which encircled her neck rose fresh and intact to her chin; nor did the heavy folds of her rich broadcloth gown betray that any disturbance25 had taken place in her figure after its fall. If a jewel had flashed at her throat, or earrings28 adorned29 her ears, they had been removed by a careful, if not a loving, hand. But I was rather inclined to think that she had entered upon the scene of her death without ornaments,—such severe simplicity30 marked her whole attire31. Her hat, which was as plain and also as elegant as the rest of her clothing, lay near her on the floor. It had been taken off and thrown down, manifestly by an impatient hand. That this hand was her own was evident from a small but very significant fact. The pin which had held it to her hair had been thrust again into the hat. No hand but hers would have taken this precaution. A man would have flung it aside just as he would have flung the hat.
Question:
Did this argue a natural expectation on her part of resuming her hat? Or was the action the result of an unconscious habit?
Having thus noted32 all that was possible concerning her without infringing33 on the rights of the coroner, I next proceeded to cast about for clues to the identity of the person whom I considered responsible for the extinguished candle. But here a great disappointment awaited me. I could find nothing expressive34 of a second person's presence save a pile of cigar ashes scattered35 near the legs of a common kitchen chair which stood face to face with the book shelves in that part of the room where the candelabrum rested on a small table. But these ashes looked old, nor could I detect any evidence of tobacco smoke in the general mustiness pervading36 the place. Was the man who died here a fortnight since accountable for these ashes? If so, his unfinished cigar must be within sight. Should I search for it? No, for this would take me to the hearth37 and that was quite too deadly a place to be heedlessly approached.
Besides, I was not yet finished with the spot where I then stood. If I could gather nothing satisfactory from the ashes, perhaps I could from the chair or the shelves before which it had been placed. Some one with an interest in books had sat there; some one who expected to spend sufficient time over these old tomes to feel the need of a chair. Had this interest been a general one or had it centered in a particular volume? I ran my eye over the shelves within reach, possibly with an idea of settling this question, and though my knowledge of books is limited I could see that these were what one might call rarities. Some of them contained specimens39 of black letter, all moldy40 and smothered41 in dust; in others I saw dates of publication which placed them among volumes dear to a collector's heart. But none of them, so far as I could see, gave any evidence of having been lately handled; and anxious to waste no time on puerile42 details, I hastily quitted my chair, and was proceeding43 to turn my attention elsewhere, when I noticed on an upper shelf, a book projecting slightly beyond the others. Instantly my foot was on the chair and the book in my hand. Did I find it of interest? Yes, but not on account of its contents, for they were pure Greek to me; but because it lacked the dust on its upper edge which had marked every other volume I had handled. This, then, was what had attracted the unknown to these shelves, this—let me see if I can remember its title—Disquisition upon Old Coastlines. Pshaw! I was wasting my time. What had such a dry compendium44 as this to do with the body lying in its blood a few steps behind me, or with the hand which had put out the candle upon this dreadful deed? Nothing. I replaced the book, but not so hastily as to push it one inch beyond the position in which I found it. For, if it had a tale to tell, then was it my business to leave that tale to be read by those who understood books better than I did.
My next move was toward the little table holding the candelabrum with the glittering pendants. This table was one of a nest standing45 against a near-by wall. Investigation46 proved that it had been lifted from the others and brought to its present position within a very short space of time. For the dust lying thick on its top was almost entirely47 lacking from the one which had been nested under it. Neither had the candelabrum been standing there long, dust being found under as well as around it. Had her hand brought it there? Hardly, if it came from the top of the mantel toward which I now turned in my course of investigation.
I have already mentioned this mantel more than once. This I could hardly avoid, since in and about it lay the heart of the mystery for which the room was remarkable48. But though I have thus freely spoken of it, and though it was not absent from my thoughts for a moment, I had not ventured to approach it beyond a certain safe radius49. Now, in looking to see if I might not lessen50 this radius, I experienced that sudden and overwhelming interest in its every feature which attaches to all objects peculiarly associated with danger.
I even took a step toward it, holding up my lamp so that a stray ray struck the faded surface of an old engraving51 hanging over the fireplace.
It was the well-known one—in Washington at least—of Benjamin Franklin at the Court of France; interesting no doubt in a general way, but scarcely calculated to hold the eye at so critical an instant. Neither did the shelf below call for more than momentary52 attention, for it was absolutely bare. So was the time-worn, if not blood-stained hearth, save for the impenetrable shadow cast over it by the huge bulk of the great settle standing at its edge.
I have already described the impression made on me at my first entrance by this ancient and characteristic article of furniture.
It was intensified53 now as my eye ran over the clumsy carving54 which added to the discomfort55 of its high straight back and as I smelt56 the smell of its moldy and possibly mouse-haunted cushions. A crawling sense of dread3 took the place of my first instinctive57 repugnance58; not because superstition59 had as yet laid its grip upon me, although the place, the hour and the near and veritable presence of death were enough to rouse the imagination past the bounds of the actual, but because of a discovery I had made—a discovery which emphasized the tradition that all who had been found dead under the mantel had fallen as if from the end of this monstrous60 and patriarchal bench. Do you ask what this discovery was? It can be told in a word. This one end and only this end had been made comfortable for the sitter. For a space scarcely wide enough for one, the seat and back at this special point had been upholstered with leather, fastened to the wood with heavy wrought61 nails. The remaining portion stretched out bare, hard and inexpressibly forbidding to one who sought ease there, or even a moment of casual rest. The natural inference was that the owner of this quaint62 piece of furniture had been a very selfish man who thought only of his own comfort. But might he not have had some other reason for his apparent niggardliness63? As I asked myself this question and noted how the long and embracing arm which guarded this cushioned retreat was flattened64 on top for the convenient holding of decanter and glass, feelings to which I can give no name and which I had fondly believed myself proof against, began to take the place of judgment65 and reason. Before I realized the nature of my own impulse or to what it was driving me, I found myself moving slowly and steadily66 toward this formidable seat, under an irresistible67 desire to fling myself down upon these old cushions and—
But here the creaking of some far-off shutter9—possibly the one I had seen swaying from the opposite side of the street—recalled me to the duties of the hour, and, remembering that my investigations68 were but half completed and that I might be interrupted any moment by detectives from headquarters, I broke from the accursed charm, which horrified69 me the moment I escaped it, and quitting the room by a door at the farther end, sought to find in some of the adjacent rooms the definite traces I had failed to discover on this, the actual scene of the crime.
It was a dismal70 search, revealing at every turn the almost maddened haste with which the house had been abandoned. The dining-room especially roused feelings which were far from pleasant. The table, evidently set for the wedding breakfast, had been denuded71 in such breathless hurry that the food had been tossed from the dishes and now lay in moldering heaps on the floor. The wedding cake, which some one had dropped, possibly in the effort to save it, had been stepped on; and broken glass, crumpled72 napery and withered73 flowers made all the corners unsightly and rendered stepping over the unwholesome floors at once disgusting and dangerous. The pantries opening out of this room were in no better case. Shrinking from the sights and smells I found there, I passed out into the kitchen and so on by a close and narrow passage to the negro quarters clustered in the rear.
Here I made a discovery. One of the windows in this long disused portion of the house was not only unlocked but partly open. But as I came upon no marks showing that this outlet74 had been used by the escaping murderer, I made my way back to the front of the house and thus to the stairs communicating with the upper floor.
It was on the rug lying at the foot of these stairs that I came upon the first of a dozen or more burned matches which lay in a distinct trail up the staircase and along the floors of the upper halls. As these matches were all burned as short as fingers could hold them, it was evident that they had been used to light the steps of some one seeking refuge above, possibly in the very room where we had seen the light which had first drawn us to this house. How then? Should I proceed or await the coming of the "boys" before pushing in upon a possible murderer? I decided75 to proceed, fascinated, I think, by the nicety of the trail which lay before me.
But when, after a careful following in the steps of him who had so lately preceded me, I came upon a tightly closed door at the end of aside passage, I own that I stopped a moment before lifting hand to it. So much may lie behind a tightly closed door! But my hesitation76, if hesitation it was, lasted but a moment. My natural impatience77 and the promptings of my vanity overcame the dictates78 of my judgment, and, reckless of consequences, perhaps disdainful of them, I soon had the knob in my grasp. I gave a slight push to the door and, on seeing a crack of light leap into life along the jamb, pushed the door wider and wider till the whole room stood revealed.
The instantaneous banging of a shutter in one of its windows proved the room to be the very one which we had seen lighted from below. Otherwise all was still; nor was I able to detect, in my first hurried glance, any other token of human presence than a candle sputtering80 in its own grease at the bottom of a tumbler placed on one corner of, an old-fashioned dressing81 table. This, the one touch of incongruity82 in a room otherwise rich if not stately in its appointments, was loud in its suggestion of some hidden presence given to expedients83 and reckless of consequences; but of this presence nothing was to be seen.
Not satisfied with this short survey,-a survey which had given me the impression of a spacious84 old-fashioned chamber85, fully furnished but breathing of the by-gone rather than of the present—and resolved to know the worst, or, rather, to dare the worst and be done with it, I strode straight into the center of the room and cast about me quickly a comprehensive glance which spared nothing, not even the shadows lurking86 in the corners. But no low-lying figure started up from those corners, nor did any crouching87 head rise into sight from beyond the leaves of the big screen behind which I was careful to look.
Greatly reassured88, and indeed quite convinced that wherever the criminal lurked89 at that moment he was not in the same room with me, I turned my attention to my surroundings, which had many points of interest. Foremost among these was the big four-poster which occupied a large space at my right. I had never seen its like in use before, and I was greatly attracted by its size and the air of mystery imparted to it by its closely drawn curtains of faded brocade. In fact, this bed, whether from its appearance or some occult influence inherent in it, had a fascination90 for me. I hesitated to approach it, yet could not forbear surveying it long and earnestly. Could it be possible that those curtains concealed some one in hiding behind them? Strange to say I did not feel quite ready to lay hand on them and see.
A dressing table laden91 with woman's fixings and various articles of the toilet, all of an unexpected value and richness, occupied the space between the two windows; and on the floor, immediately in front of a high mahogany mantel, there lay, amid a number of empty boxes, an overturned chair. This chair and the conjectures93 its position awakened94 led me to look up at the mantel with which it seemed to be in some way connected, and thus I became aware of a wan96 old drawing hanging on the wall above it. Why this picture, which was a totally uninteresting sketch97 of a simpering girl face, should have held my eye after the first glance, I can not say even now. It had no beauty even of the sentimental98 kind and very little, if any, meaning. Its lines, weak at the best, were nearly obliterated99 and in some places quite faded out. Yet I not only paused to look at it, but in looking at it forgot myself and well-nigh my errand. Yet there was no apparent reason for the spell it exerted over me, nor could I account in any way for the really superstitious100 dread which from this moment seized me, making my head move slowly round with shrinking backward looks as that swaying shutter creaked or some of the fitful noises, which grow out of silence in answer to our inner expectancy101, drew my attention or appalled102 my sense.
To all appearance there was less here than below to affect a man's courage. No inanimate body with the mark of the slayer103 upon it lent horror to these walls; yet sensations which I had easily overcome in the library below clung with strange insistence104 to me here, making it an effort for me to move, and giving to the unexpected reflection of my own image in the mirror I chanced to pass, a power to shock my nerves which has never been repeated in my experience.
It may seem both unnecessary and out of character for a man of my calling to acknowledge these chance sensations, but only by doing so can I account for the minutes which elapsed before I summoned sufficient self-possession to draw aside the closed curtains of the bed and take the quick look inside which my present doubtful position demanded. But once I had broken the spell and taken the look just mentioned, I found my manhood return and with it my old ardor105 for clues. The bed held no gaping106, chattering107 criminal; yet was it not quite empty. Something lay there, and this something, while commonplace in itself, was enough out of keeping with the place and hour to rouse my interest and awaken95 my conjectures. It was a lady's wrap so rich in quality and of such a festive108 appearance that it was astonishing to find it lying in a neglected state in this crumbling109 old house. Though I know little of the cost of women's garments, I do know the value of lace, and this garment was covered with it.
Interesting as was this find, it was followed by one still more so. Nestled in the folds of the cloak, lay the withered remains110 of what could only have been the bridal bouquet111. Unsightly now and scentless112, it was once a beautiful specimen38 of the florist's art. As I noted how the main bunch of roses and lilies was connected by long satin ribbons to the lesser113 clusters which hung from it, I recalled with conceivable horror the use to which a similar ribbon had been put in the room below. In the shudder114 called up by this coincidence I forgot to speculate how a bouquet carried by the bride could have found its way back to this upstairs room when, as all accounts agree, she had fled from the parlor115 below without speaking or staying foot the moment she was told of the catastrophe116 which had taken place in the library. That her wrap should be lying here was not strange, but that the wedding bouquet—
That it really was the wedding bouquet and that this was the room in which the bride had dressed for the ceremony was apparent to the most casual observer. But it became an established fact when in my further course about the room I chanced on a handkerchief with the name Veronica embroidered117 in one corner.
This handkerchief had an interest apart from the name on it. It was of dainty texture118 and quite in keeping, so far as value went, with the other belongings119 of its fastidious owner. But it was not clean. Indeed it was strangely soiled, and this soil was of a nature I did not readily understand. A woman would doubtless have comprehended immediately the cause of the brown streaks120 I found on it, but it took me several minutes to realize that this bit of cambric, delicate as a cobweb, had been used to remove dust. To remove dust! Dust from what? From the mantel-shelf probably, upon one end of which I found it. But no! one look along the polished boards convinced me that whatever else had been dusted in this room this shelf had not. The accumulation of days, if not of months, was visible from one end to the other of its unrelieved surface save where the handkerchief had lain, and—the greatest discovery yet—where five clear spots just to the left of the center showed where some man's finger-tips had rested. Nothing but the pressure of fingertips could have caused just the appearance presented by these spots. By scrutinizing121 them closely I could even tell where the thumb had rested, and at once foresaw the possibility of determining by means of these marks both the size and shape of the hand which had left behind it so neat and unmistakable a clue.
Wonderful! but what did it all mean? Why should a man rest his finger-tips on this out-of-the-way shelf? Had he done so in an effort to balance himself for a look up the chimney? No; for then the marks made by his fingers would have extended to the edge of the shelf, whereas these were in the middle of it. Their shape, too, was round, not oblong; hence, the pressure had come from above and—ah! I had it, these impressions in the dust of the shelf were just such as would be made by a person steadying himself for a close look at the old picture. And this accounted also for the overturned chair, and for the handkerchief used as a duster. Some one's interest in this picture had been greater than mine; some one who was either very near-sighted or whose temperament122 was such that only the closest inspection123 would satisfy an aroused curiosity.
This gave me an idea, or rather impressed upon me the necessity of preserving the outline of these tell-tale marks while they were still plain to the eye. Taking out my penknife, I lightly ran the point of my sharpest blade around each separate impression till I had fixed them for all time in the well worn varnish124 of the mahogany.
This done, my thoughts recurred125 to the question already raised. What was there in this old picture to arouse such curiosity in one bent126 on evil if not fresh from a hideous127 crime? I have said before that the picture as a picture was worthless, a mere128 faded sketch fit only for lumbering129 up some old garret. Then wherein lay its charm,—a charm which I myself had felt, though not to this extent? It was useless to conjecture92. A fresh difficulty had been added to my task by this puzzling discovery, but difficulties only increased my interest. It was with an odd feeling of elation130 that, in a further examination of this room, I came upon two additional facts equally odd and irreconcilable131.
One was the presence of a penknife with the file blade open, on a small table under the window marked by the loosened shutter. Scattered about it were some filings which shone as the light from my lantern fell upon them, but which were so fine as to call for a magnifying-glass to make them out. The other was in connection with a closet not far from the great bed. It was an empty closet so far as the hooks went and the two great drawers which I found standing half open at its back; but in the middle of the floor lay an overturned candelabrum similar to the one below, but with its prisms scattered and its one candle crushed and battered132 out of all shape on the blackened boards. If upset while alight, the foot which had stamped upon it in a wild endeavor to put out the flames had been a frenzied one. Now, by whom had this frenzy133 been shown, and when? Within the hour? I could detect no smell of smoke. At some former time, then? say on the day of the bridal?
Glancing from the broken candle at my feet to the one giving its last sputter79 in the tumbler on the dressing table, I owned myself perplexed134.
Surely, no ordinary explanation fitted these extraordinary and seemingly contradictory135 circumstances.
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1
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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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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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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credence
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| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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penetrable
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| adj.可穿透的 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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promulgated
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| v.宣扬（某事物）( promulgate的过去式和过去分词 )；传播；公布；颁布（法令、新法律等） | |
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crabbed
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| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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petals
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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despoliation
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| n.掠夺 | |
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earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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infringing
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| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的现在分词 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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38
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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moldy
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| adj.发霉的 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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puerile
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| adj.幼稚的，儿童的 | |
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43
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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compendium
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| n.简要，概略 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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47
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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48
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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49
radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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50
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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51
engraving
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| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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52
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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53
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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55
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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56
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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57
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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58
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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59
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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60
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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61
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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63
niggardliness
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64
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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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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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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69
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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70
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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denuded
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| adj.[医]变光的，裸露的v.使赤裸( denude的过去式和过去分词 )；剥光覆盖物 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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73
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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74
outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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76
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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77
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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78
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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79
sputter
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| n.喷溅声；v.喷溅 | |
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sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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81
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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82
incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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83
expedients
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| n.应急有效的，权宜之计的( expedient的名词复数 ) | |
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84
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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85
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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86
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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87
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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88
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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89
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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90
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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91
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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94
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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95
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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96
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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97
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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98
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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99
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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100
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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101
expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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102
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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103
slayer
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| n. 杀人者，凶手 | |
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104
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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105
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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106
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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107
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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108
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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109
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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110
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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111
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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112
scentless
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| adj.无气味的，遗臭已消失的 | |
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113
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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114
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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115
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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116
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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117
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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118
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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119
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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120
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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121
scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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122
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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123
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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124
varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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125
recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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126
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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127
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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128
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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129
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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130
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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131
irreconcilable
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| adj.（指人）难和解的，势不两立的 | |
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132
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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133
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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134
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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135
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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