Dorking, Surrey, July 30th, 1849. To Franklin Blake, Esq. Sir,—I beg to apologise for the delay that has occurred in the production of the Report, with which I engaged to furnish you. I have waited to make it a complete Report; and I have been met, here and there, by obstacles which it was only possible to remove by some little expenditure1 of patience and time.
The object which I proposed to myself has now, I hope, been attained2. You will find, in these pages, answers to the greater part—if not all—of the questions, concerning the late Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite, which occurred to your mind when I last had the honour of seeing you.
I propose to tell you—in the first place—what is known of the manner in which your cousin met his death; appending to the statement such inferences and conclusions as we are justified4 (according to my opinion) in drawing from the facts.
I shall then endeavour—in the second place—to put you in possession of such discoveries as I have made, respecting the proceedings5 of Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite, before, during and after the time, when you and he met as guests at the late Lady Verinder’s country house.
II
As to your cousin’s death, then, first.
It appears to be established, beyond any reasonable doubt, that he was killed (while he was asleep, or immediately on his waking) by being smothered6 with a pillow from his bed—that the persons guilty of murdering him are the three Indians—and that the object contemplated7 (and achieved) by the crime, was to obtain possession of the diamond, called the Moonstone.
The facts from which this conclusion is drawn8, are derived9 partly from an examination of the room at the tavern10; and partly from the evidence obtained at the Coroner’s Inquest.
On forcing the door of the room, the deceased gentleman was discovered, dead, with the pillow of the bed over his face. The medical man who examined him, being informed of this circumstance, considered the post-mortem appearances as being perfectly11 compatible with murder by smothering—that is to say, with murder committed by some person, or persons, pressing the pillow over the nose and mouth of the deceased, until death resulted from congestion12 of the lungs.
Next, as to the motive13 for the crime.
A small box, with a sealed paper torn off from it (the paper containing an inscription14) was found open, and empty, on a table in the room. Mr. Luker has himself personally identified the box, the seal, and the inscription. He has declared that the box did actually contain the diamond, called the Moonstone; and he has admitted having given the box (thus sealed up) to Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite (then concealed15 under a disguise), on the afternoon of the twenty-sixth of June last. The fair inference from all this is, that the stealing of the Moonstone was the motive of the crime.
Next, as to the manner in which the crime was committed.
On examination of the room (which is only seven feet high), a trap-door in the ceiling, leading out on to the roof of the house, was discovered open. The short ladder, used for obtaining access to the trap-door (and kept under the bed), was found placed at the opening, so as to enable any person or persons, in the room, to leave it again easily. In the trap-door itself was found a square aperture17 cut in the wood, apparently18 with some exceedingly sharp instrument, just behind the bolt which fastened the door on the inner side. In this way, any person from the outside could have drawn back the bolt, and opened the door, and have dropped (or have been noiselessly lowered by an accomplice19) into the room—its height, as already observed, being only seven feet. That some person, or persons, must have got admission in this way, appears evident from the fact of the aperture being there. As to the manner in which he (or they) obtained access to the roof of the tavern, it is to be remarked that the third house, lower down in the street, was empty, and under repair—that a long ladder was left by the workmen, leading from the pavement to the top of the house—and that, on returning to their work, on the morning of the 27th, the men found the plank20 which they had tied to the ladder, to prevent anyone from using it in their absence, removed, and lying on the ground. As to the possibility of ascending21 by this ladder, passing over the roofs of the houses, passing back, and descending22 again, unobserved—it is discovered, on the evidence of the night policeman, that he only passes through Shore Lane twice in an hour, when out on his beat. The testimony23 of the inhabitants also declares, that Shore Lane, after midnight, is one of the quietest and loneliest streets in London. Here again, therefore, it seems fair to infer that—with ordinary caution, and presence of mind—any man, or men, might have ascended24 by the ladder, and might have descended25 again, unobserved. Once on the roof of the tavern, it has been proved, by experiment, that a man might cut through the trap-door, while lying down on it, and that in such a position, the parapet in front of the house would conceal16 him from the view of anyone passing in the street.
Lastly, as to the person, or persons, by whom the crime was committed.
It is known (1) that the Indians had an interest in possessing themselves of the Diamond. (2) It is at least probable that the man looking like an Indian, whom Octavius Guy saw at the window of the cab, speaking to the man dressed like a mechanic, was one of the three Hindoo conspirators26. (3) It is certain that this same man dressed like a mechanic, was seen keeping Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite in view, all through the evening of the 26th, and was found in the bedroom (before Mr. Ablewhite was shown into it) under circumstances which lead to the suspicion that he was examining the room. (4) A morsel27 of torn gold thread was picked up in the bedroom, which persons expert in such matters, declare to be of Indian manufacture, and to be a species of gold thread not known in England. (5) On the morning of the 27th, three men, answering to the description of the three Indians, were observed in Lower Thames Street, were traced to the Tower Wharf28, and were seen to leave London by the steamer bound for Rotterdam.
There is here, moral, if not legal, evidence, that the murder was committed by the Indians.
Whether the man personating a mechanic was, or was not, an accomplice in the crime, it is impossible to say. That he could have committed the murder alone, seems beyond the limits of probability. Acting29 by himself, he could hardly have smothered Mr. Ablewhite—who was the taller and stronger man of the two—without a struggle taking place, or a cry being heard. A servant girl, sleeping in the next room, heard nothing. The landlord, sleeping in the room below, heard nothing. The whole evidence points to the inference that more than one man was concerned in this crime—and the circumstances, I repeat, morally justify30 the conclusion that the Indians committed it.
I have only to add, that the verdict at the Coroner’s Inquest was Wilful31 Murder against some person, or persons, unknown. Mr. Ablewhite’s family have offered a reward, and no effort has been left untried to discover the guilty persons. The man dressed like a mechanic has eluded32 all inquiries33. The Indians have been traced. As to the prospect34 of ultimately capturing these last, I shall have a word to say to you on that head, when I reach the end of the present Report.
In the meanwhile, having now written all that is needful on the subject of Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite’s death, I may pass next to the narrative35 of his proceedings before, during, and after the time, when you and he met at the late Lady Verinder’s house.
III
With regard to the subject now in hand, I may state, at the outset, that Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite’s life had two sides to it.
The side turned up to the public view, presented the spectacle of a gentleman, possessed36 of considerable reputation as a speaker at charitable meetings, and endowed with administrative37 abilities, which he placed at the disposal of various Benevolent38 Societies, mostly of the female sort. The side kept hidden from the general notice, exhibited this same gentleman in the totally different character of a man of pleasure, with a villa39 in the suburbs which was not taken in his own name, and with a lady in the villa, who was not taken in his own name, either.
My investigations41 in the villa have shown me several fine pictures and statues; furniture tastefully selected, and admirably made; and a conservatory42 of the rarest flowers, the match of which it would not be easy to find in all London. My investigation40 of the lady has resulted in the discovery of jewels which are worthy43 to take rank with the flowers, and of carriages and horses which have (deservedly) produced a sensation in the Park, among persons well qualified44 to judge of the build of the one, and the breed of the others.
All this is, so far, common enough. The villa and the lady are such familiar objects in London life, that I ought to apologise for introducing them to notice. But what is not common and not familiar (in my experience), is that all these fine things were not only ordered, but paid for. The pictures, the statues, the flowers, the jewels, the carriages, and the horses—inquiry45 proved, to my indescribable astonishment46, that not a sixpence of debt was owing on any of them. As to the villa, it had been bought, out and out, and settled on the lady.
I might have tried to find the right reading of this riddle47, and tried in vain—but for Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite’s death, which caused an inquiry to be made into the state of his affairs.
The inquiry elicited48 these facts:—
That Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite was entrusted49 with the care of a sum of twenty thousand pounds—as one of two Trustees for a young gentleman, who was still a minor50 in the year eighteen hundred and forty-eight. That the Trust was to lapse51, and that the young gentleman was to receive the twenty thousand pounds on the day when he came of age, in the month of February, eighteen hundred and fifty. That, pending3 the arrival of this period, an income of six hundred pounds was to be paid to him by his two Trustees, half-yearly—at Christmas and Midsummer Day. That this income was regularly paid by the active Trustee, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite. That the twenty thousand pounds (from which the income was supposed to be derived) had every farthing of it been sold out of the Funds, at different periods, ending with the end of the year eighteen hundred and forty-seven. That the power of attorney, authorising the bankers to sell out the stock, and the various written orders telling them what amounts to sell out, were formally signed by both the Trustees. That the signature of the second Trustee (a retired52 army officer, living in the country) was a signature forged, in every case, by the active Trustee—otherwise Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite.
In these facts lies the explanation of Mr. Godfrey’s honourable53 conduct, in paying the debts incurred54 for the lady and the villa—and (as you will presently see) of more besides.
We may now advance to the date of Miss Verinder’s birthday (in the year eighteen hundred and forty-eight)—the twenty-first of June.
On the day before, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite arrived at his father’s house, and asked (as I know from Mr. Ablewhite, senior, himself) for a loan of three hundred pounds. Mark the sum; and remember at the same time, that the half-yearly payment to the young gentleman was due on the twenty-fourth of the month. Also, that the whole of the young gentleman’s fortune had been spent by his Trustee, by the end of the year ’forty-seven.
Mr. Ablewhite, senior, refused to lend his son a farthing.
The next day Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite rode over, with you, to Lady Verinder’s house. A few hours afterwards, Mr. Godfrey (as you yourself have told me) made a proposal of marriage to Miss Verinder. Here, he saw his way no doubt—if accepted—to the end of all his money anxieties, present and future. But, as events actually turned out, what happened? Miss Verinder refused him.
On the night of the birthday, therefore, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite’s pecuniary55 position was this. He had three hundred pounds to find on the twenty-fourth of the month, and twenty thousand pounds to find in February eighteen hundred and fifty. Failing to raise these sums, at these times, he was a ruined man.
Under those circumstances, what takes place next?
You exasperate56 Mr. Candy, the doctor, on the sore subject of his profession; and he plays you a practical joke, in return, with a dose of laudanum. He trusts the administration of the dose, prepared in a little phial, to Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite—who has himself confessed the share he had in the matter, under circumstances which shall presently be related to you. Mr. Godfrey is all the readier to enter into the conspiracy58, having himself suffered from your sharp tongue in the course of the evening. He joins Betteredge in persuading you to drink a little brandy and water before you go to bed. He privately59 drops the dose of laudanum into your cold grog. And you drink the mixture.
Let us now shift the scene, if you please to Mr. Luker’s house at Lambeth. And allow me to remark, by way of preface, that Mr. Bruff and I, together, have found a means of forcing the money-lender to make a clean breast of it. We have carefully sifted60 the statement he has addressed to us; and here it is at your service.
IV
Late on the evening of Friday, the twenty-third of June (’forty-eight), Mr. Luker was surprised by a visit from Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite. He was more than surprised, when Mr. Godfrey produced the Moonstone. No such Diamond (according to Mr. Luker’s experience) was in the possession of any private person in Europe.
Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite had two modest proposals to make, in relation to this magnificent gem61. First, Would Mr. Luker be so good as to buy it? Secondly62, Would Mr. Luker (in default of seeing his way to the purchase) undertake to sell it on commission, and to pay a sum down, on the anticipated result?
Mr. Luker tested the Diamond, weighed the Diamond and estimated the value of the Diamond, before he answered a word. His estimate (allowing for the flaw in the stone) was thirty thousand pounds.
Having reached that result, Mr. Luker opened his lips, and put a question: “How did you come by this?” Only six words! But what volumes of meaning in them!
Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite began a story. Mr. Luker opened his lips again, and only said three words, this time. “That won’t do!”
Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite began another story. Mr. Luker wasted no more words on him. He got up, and rang the bell for the servant to show the gentleman out.
Upon this compulsion, Mr. Godfrey made an effort, and came out with a new and amended63 version of the affair, to the following effect.
After privately slipping the laudanum into your brandy and water, he wished you good-night, and went into his own room. It was the next room to yours; and the two had a door of communication between them. On entering his own room Mr. Godfrey (as he supposed) closed his door. His money troubles kept him awake. He sat, in his dressing-gown and slippers64, for nearly an hour, thinking over his position. Just as he was preparing to get into bed, he heard you, talking to yourself, in your own room, and going to the door of communication, found that he had not shut it as he supposed.
He looked into your room to see what was the matter. He discovered you with the candle in your hand, just leaving your bedchamber. He heard you say to yourself, in a voice quite unlike your own voice, “How do I know? The Indians may be hidden in the house.”
Up to that time, he had simply supposed himself (in giving you the laudanum) to be helping65 to make you the victim of a harmless practical joke. It now occurred to him, that the laudanum had taken some effect on you, which had not been foreseen by the doctor, any more than by himself. In the fear of an accident happening he followed you softly to see what you would do.
He followed you to Miss Verinder’s sitting-room66, and saw you go in. You left the door open. He looked through the crevice67 thus produced, between the door and the post, before he ventured into the room himself.
In that position, he not only detected you in taking the Diamond out of the drawer—he also detected Miss Verinder, silently watching you from her bedroom, through her open door. His own eyes satisfied him that she saw you take the Diamond, too.
Before you left the sitting-room again, you hesitated a little. Mr. Godfrey took advantage of this hesitation68 to get back again to his bedroom before you came out, and discovered him. He had barely got back, before you got back too. You saw him (as he supposes) just as he was passing through the door of communication. At any rate, you called to him in a strange, drowsy69 voice.
He came back to you. You looked at him in a dull sleepy way. You put the Diamond into his hand. You said to him, “Take it back, Godfrey, to your father’s bank. It’s safe there—it’s not safe here.” You turned away unsteadily, and put on your dressing-gown. You sat down in the large arm-chair in your room. You said, “I can’t take it back to the bank. My head’s like lead—and I can’t feel my feet under me.” Your head sank on the back of the chair—you heaved a heavy sigh—and you fell asleep.
Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite went back, with the Diamond, into his own room. His statement is, that he came to no conclusion, at that time—except that he would wait, and see what happened in the morning.
When the morning came, your language and conduct showed that you were absolutely ignorant of what you had said and done overnight. At the same time, Miss Verinder’s language and conduct showed that she was resolved to say nothing (in mercy to you) on her side. If Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite chose to keep the Diamond, he might do so with perfect impunity70. The Moonstone stood between him and ruin. He put the Moonstone into his pocket.
V
This was the story told by your cousin (under pressure of necessity) to Mr. Luker.
Mr. Luker believed the story to be, as to all main essentials, true—on this ground, that Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite was too great a fool to have invented it. Mr. Bruff and I agree with Mr. Luker, in considering this test of the truth of the story to be a perfectly reliable one.
The next question, was the question of what Mr. Luker would do in the matter of the Moonstone. He proposed the following terms, as the only terms on which he would consent to mix himself up with, what was (even in his line of business) a doubtful and dangerous transaction.
Mr. Luker would consent to lend Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite the sum of two thousand pounds, on condition that the Moonstone was to be deposited with him as a pledge. If, at the expiration71 of one year from that date, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite paid three thousand pounds to Mr. Luker, he was to receive back the Diamond, as a pledge redeemed73. If he failed to produce the money at the expiration of the year, the pledge (otherwise the Moonstone) was to be considered as forfeited74 to Mr. Luker—who would, in this latter case, generously make Mr. Godfrey a present of certain promissory notes of his (relating to former dealings) which were then in the money-lender’s possession.
It is needless to say, that Mr. Godfrey indignantly refused to listen to these monstrous75 terms. Mr. Luker thereupon, handed him back the Diamond, and wished him good-night.
Your cousin went to the door, and came back again. How was he to be sure that the conversation of that evening would be kept strictly76 secret between his friend and himself?
Mr. Luker didn’t profess57 to know how. If Mr. Godfrey had accepted his terms, Mr. Godfrey would have made him an accomplice, and might have counted on his silence as on a certainty. As things were, Mr. Luker must be guided by his own interests. If awkward inquiries were made, how could he be expected to compromise himself, for the sake of a man who had declined to deal with him?
Receiving this reply, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite did, what all animals (human and otherwise) do, when they find themselves caught in a trap. He looked about him in a state of helpless despair. The day of the month, recorded on a neat little card in a box on the money-lender’s chimney-piece, happened to attract his eye. It was the twenty-third of June. On the twenty-fourth he had three hundred pounds to pay to the young gentleman for whom he was trustee, and no chance of raising the money, except the chance that Mr. Luker had offered to him. But for this miserable77 obstacle, he might have taken the Diamond to Amsterdam, and have made a marketable commodity of it, by having it cut up into separate stones. As matters stood, he had no choice but to accept Mr. Luker’s terms. After all, he had a year at his disposal, in which to raise the three thousand pounds—and a year is a long time.
Mr. Luker drew out the necessary documents on the spot. When they were signed, he gave Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite two cheques. One, dated June 23rd, for three hundred pounds. Another, dated a week on, for the remaining balance seventeen hundred pounds.
How the Moonstone was trusted to the keeping of Mr Luker’s bankers, and how the Indians treated Mr. Luker and Mr. Godfrey (after that had been done) you know already.
The next event in your cousin’s life refers again to Miss Verinder. He proposed marriage to her for the second time—and (after having being accepted) he consented, at her request, to consider the marriage as broken off. One of his reasons for making this concession78 has been penetrated79 by Mr. Bruff. Miss Verinder had only a life interest in her mother’s property—and there was no raising the twenty thousand pounds on that.
But you will say, he might have saved the three thousand pounds, to redeem72 the pledged Diamond, if he had married. He might have done so certainly—supposing neither his wife, nor her guardians80 and trustees, objected to his anticipating more than half of the income at his disposal, for some unknown purpose, in the first year of his marriage. But even if he got over this obstacle, there was another waiting for him in the background. The lady at the Villa, had heard of his contemplated marriage. A superb woman, Mr. Blake, of the sort that are not to be trifled with—the sort with the light complexion81 and the Roman nose. She felt the utmost contempt for Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite. It would be silent contempt, if he made a handsome provision for her. Otherwise, it would be contempt with a tongue to it. Miss Verinder’s life interest allowed him no more hope of raising the “provision” than of raising the twenty thousand pounds. He couldn’t marry—he really couldn’t marry, under all the circumstances.
How he tried his luck again with another lady, and how that marriage also broke down on the question of money, you know already. You also know of the legacy82 of five thousand pounds, left to him shortly afterwards, by one of those many admirers among the soft sex whose good graces this fascinating man had contrived83 to win. That legacy (as the event has proved) led him to his death.
I have ascertained84 that when he went abroad, on getting his five thousand pounds, he went to Amsterdam. There he made all the necessary arrangements for having the Diamond cut into separate stones. He came back (in disguise), and redeemed the Moonstone, on the appointed day. A few days were allowed to elapse (as a precaution agreed to by both parties) before the jewel was actually taken out of the bank. If he had got safe with it to Amsterdam, there would have been just time between July ’forty-nine, and February ’fifty (when the young gentleman came of age) to cut the Diamond, and to make a marketable commodity (polished or unpolished) of the separate stones. Judge from this, what motives85 he had to run the risk which he actually ran. It was “neck or nothing” with him—if ever it was “neck or nothing” with a man yet.
I have only to remind you, before closing this Report, that there is a chance of laying hands on the Indians, and of recovering the Moonstone yet. They are now (there is every reason to believe) on their passage to Bombay, in an East Indiaman. The ship (barring accidents) will touch at no other port on her way out; and the authorities at Bombay (already communicated with by letter, overland) will be prepared to board the vessel86, the moment she enters the harbour.
I have the honour to remain, dear sir, your obedient servant, RICHARD CUFF87 (late sergeant88 in the Detective Force, Scotland Yard, London).*
* NOTE.—Wherever the Report touches on the events of the birthday, or of the three days that followed it, compare with Betteredge’s Narrative, chapters viii. to xiii.
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expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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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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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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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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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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prospect
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narrative
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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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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conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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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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elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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exasperate
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| v.激怒，使（疾病）加剧，使恶化 | |
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profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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sifted
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| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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expiration
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| n.终结，期满，呼气，呼出物 | |
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redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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