Rose always insisted that she was psychic1, and I have some faith myself in presentiments2. At any rate, we both declared, on that Monday night before the curtain went up, that something was going to happen. Leonard had no convictions of the sort himself but he was favourably4 disposed towards our attitude. He put the matter succinctly5.
"Here we are," he pointed6 out, "sold to the devil, body and soul, and if the old boy doesn't make some use of us, I shall begin to be afraid the whole thing's coming to an end. Five pounds a week, and a reserve fund for costumes and posters suits me very nicely, thank you."
"I don't think you need worry," I told him. "It doesn't seem reasonable to imagine that we've been sent to the slums of Liverpool for nothing."
[Pg 16]"Then there are those posters," Rose put in, "offering prizes to amateurs. I'm quite certain there's some method in that. Besides——"
She hesitated. We both pressed her to go on.
"You'll think this silly, but for the last three nights I've had a queer sort of feeling that Mr. Thomson was somewhere in the audience. I can't explain it. I looked everywhere for him. I even tried looking at the people one by one, all down the rows. I never saw any one in the least like him. All the same, I expected to hear his voice at any moment."
"Granted the old boy's Satanic connections," Leonard observed, "he may appear to us in any form. Brimstone and horns are clean out of date. He'll probably send his disembodied voice with instructions."
I strolled to the wings and had a look at the house. Although it still wanted a quarter of an hour before the performance was due to commence, the hall was almost packed with people. The audience, as was natural considering the locality, was a pretty tough lot. It[Pg 17] seemed to consist chiefly of stewards7 and sailors from the great liners which lay in the river near by, with a sprinkling of operatives and some of the smaller shopkeepers. The study of faces has always interested me, and there were two which I picked out from the crowd during that brief survey and remembered. One was the face of a youngish man, dressed in the clothes of a labourer and seated in a dark corner of the room. He was very pale, almost consumptive-looking, with a black beard which looked as though it had been recently grown, and coal black hair. His features were utterly8 unlike the features of his presumed class, and there was a certain furtiveness9 about his expression which puzzled me. A quietly dressed girl sat by his side, whose face was even more in the shadow than his, but it struck me that she had been crying, and that for some reason or other there was a disagreement between her and the young man. The other person whom I noticed was a stout10, middle-aged11 man, with curly black hair, a rather yellow complexion12, of distinctly Semitic appearance. His hands were folded[Pg 18] upon his waistcoat, he was smoking with much obvious enjoyment13 a large cigar, and his eyes were half-closed, as though he were enjoying a brief rest. I put him down as a small shopkeeper, for choice a seller of ready-made garments, who had had a long day's work and was giving himself a treat on the strength of it.
At half-past seven the hall was crammed14 and the curtain rang up. We went through the first part of our programme with a reasonable amount of success, Leonard in particular getting two encores for one of his humorous songs. At the beginning of the second part, I came out upon the stage and made the little speech which our mysterious patron's wishes rendered necessary.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, "I have much pleasure in announcing, according to our posters outside, that if there are any amateurs here willing to try their luck upon the stage, either with a song or a dance, we shall be very happy to provide them with music and any slight change of costume. A prize of one pound will be given to the performer whose song meets with the greatest approval, and[Pg 19] a second prize of five shillings for the next most successful item."
I gagged on for a few more minutes, trying to encourage those whom I thought likely aspirants15, amidst the laughter and cheers of the audience. Presently a showily dressed young woman threw aside a cheap fur cloak, displaying a low-cut blue satin gown, jumped nimbly on to the stage, ignoring my outstretched hand, and held out a roll of music to Rose, who came smilingly from the background.
"I'll try 'The Old Folks down Wapping Way', dear," she announced, "and don't you hurry me when the sloppy17 stuff comes. I like to give 'em time for a snivel or two. Sit you down at the piano. I'm that nervous, I can't stand fussing about here."
They bent18 over the music together and I turned back to the audience. There were only two others who showed any disposition19 to follow the example of the lady in blue satin. One was the young man whom I had previously20 noticed, and who had now risen to his feet. It was obvious that the girl by his side was[Pg 20] doing all she could to dissuade21 him from his purpose. I could almost hear the sob22 in her throat as she tried to drag him back to his place. I myself felt curiously23 indisposed to interfere24, but Leonard, who was standing25 by my side, and who saw them for the first time, imagining that a word of encouragement was all that was necessary, concluded the business.
"Come along, sir," he called out. "You look as though you had a good tenor26 voice, and nothing fetches 'em like it. You let him come, my dear, and he'll buy you a new hat with the money."
The young man shook himself free and stepped on to the platform, obviously ill at ease at the cheer which his enterprise evoked27. He was followed, to my surprise, by the middle-aged man whom I had previously noticed.
"Here, Mister," was his greeting, as he stepped on to the platform, "I'll have a go at 'em. Sheeny patter and a clog28 dance, eh?"
"You must find me some sort of a change," the young man insisted hurriedly.
"You'll find an old dress suit of mine there," I pointed out. "Change as quickly as you can. I don't fancy the young lady will hold them for long."
He nodded and drew me a little on one side. His manner was distinctly uneasy, and his clothes were shabbier even than they had seemed at a distance, but his voice was the voice of a person of education, pleasant, notwithstanding a queer, rather musical accent which at the moment was unfamiliar31 to me.
"Shall I be able to lock my things up?" he asked, in an undertone. "No offence," he went on hastily, "only I happen to be carrying something rather valuable about with me."
I handed him the key of the dressing room, for which he thanked me.
"How long will that screeching32 woman be?" he asked impatiently.
"You can go on directly she's finished murdering this one," I promised him. "I don't think they'll stand any more."
He nodded, and I turned back towards[Pg 22] where the other aspirant16 was standing in the shadow of the wings.
"Now what can I do for you, sir?" I asked. "I don't think you need to change, do you?"
There was no immediate33 reply. Suddenly I felt a little shiver, and I had hard work to keep back the exclamation34 from my lips. I knew now that Rose had been right. It was a very wonderful disguise, but our master had at last appeared. He drew a little nearer to me. Even then, although I knew that it was Richard Thomson, I could see nothing but the Jew shopkeeper.
"I shall pretend to make some slight change behind that screen," he said in a low tone. "Come back here when you've taken him on the stage. I may want you."
He disappeared behind a screen a few feet away, and I stood there like a dazed man. From the stage I could still hear the lusty contralto of the young lady candidate. I heard her finish her song amidst moderate applause, chiefly contributed by a little group of her supporters. There was a brief pause. The young lady obliged with an encore. Then the[Pg 23] door of the men's dressing room opened, was closed and locked. The young man, looking a little haggard but remarkably35 handsome, came towards me, clenching36 the key in his hand.
"I was a fool to take this on," he confided37 nervously38. "You are sure my things will be all right in there?"
I pointed to the key in his hand.
"You have every assurance of it," I told him.
"Never," was the hasty reply.
"What's your line to-night?"
"Tenor. Your pianist will be able to do what I want. I've heard her."
"If you win the prize, do you want a job?" I asked, more for the sake of making conversation than from any real curiosity.
He shook his head.
"I've other work on."
"Down at the docks?"
"That's of no consequence, is it?" was the[Pg 24] somewhat curt3 reply.—"There, she's finished, thank heavens! Let me get this over."
I escorted him to the wings. The young lady, amidst a little volley of good-natured chaff41, jumped off the stage and returned to her friends. Her successor crossed quickly towards Rose, who was still seated at the piano. I slipped back behind the scenes. Mr. Richard Thomson was examining the lock of the men's dressing room.
"He's got the key," I told him.
There was no reply. Then I saw that our patron held something in his hand made of steel, which glittered in the light of an electric torch which he had just turned towards the keyhole. A moment later the door was opened and he disappeared. Out on the stage, Rose was playing the first chords of a well-known Irish ballad42. Then the young man began to sing, and, notwithstanding my state of excitement, I found myself listening with something like awe43. The silence in the hall was of itself an extraordinary tribute to the singer. Shuffling44 of feet, whispering and coughing had ceased. I felt myself holding my own breath,[Pg 25] listening to those long, sweet notes with their curious, underlying45 surge of passion. Then I heard Mr. Thomson's voice in my ear, curt and brisk.
"You've a telephone somewhere. Where is it?"
"In the passage," I pointed out.
He disappeared and returned just as a roar of applause greeted the conclusion of the song. The young man hurried in from the stage. The Jew shopkeeper was seated in the same chair, with his hands in his pockets and a disconsolate46 expression upon his face. Outside, the audience was literally47 yelling for an encore.
"You'll have to sing again," I told him.
"I don't want to," he declared passionately48. "I was a fool to come."
"Nonsense!" I protested, for the uproar49 outside was becoming unbearable50. "Listen! They'll have the place down if you don't."
"I sha'n't go on," his rival competitor grumbled51 sombrely, thrusting a cigar into his mouth and feeling in his pockets for a match. "You've queered my pitch all right. They're[Pg 26] all Irish down in this quarter. You've fairly got 'em by the throat."
The young man stood still for a moment, listening to the strange cries which came from the excited audience. Suddenly inspiration seemed to come to him. His eyes flashed. He turned away and strode out on to the stage almost with the air of a man possessed53 by some holy purpose. I followed him to the wings, and from there I had a wonderful view of all that happened during the next few minutes. The young man stood in the middle of the stage, waved his hand towards Rose, to intimate that he needed no music, waited for a few more moments with half-closed eyes and a strange smile upon his face, and commenced to sing. I realised then what inspiration meant. He sang against his will, carried away by an all-conquering emotion, sang in Gaelic, a strange, rhythmic54 chant, full of deep, sweet notes, but having in it something almost Oriental in its lack of compass and superficial monotony. Again the silence was amazing, only this time, as the song went on, several of the women began to sob, and a dozen or[Pg 27] more men in the audience stood up. Afterwards I knew what that song meant. It was the Hymn55 of Revolution, and every line was a curse.
From my place in the wings I was able to follow better, perhaps, than any one else in the room, the events of the next sixty seconds. I saw two policemen push their way along the stone passage, past the box office and into the back of the hall, led by a man in plain clothes, a stalwart, determined56-looking man with a look of the hunter in his face. Almost at the same moment the singer saw them. His song appeared somehow to become suspended in the air, ceased so abruptly57 that there seemed something inhuman58 in the breaking off of so wonderful a strain. He stood gazing at the slowly approaching figures like a man stricken sick and paralysed with fear. Then, without a word, he left the stage, pushed past me, sprang for the dressing room, and, turning the key in the lock, disappeared inside. I followed him for a few yards and then hesitated. Behind, I could hear the heavy, slowly moving footsteps of the police, making their way with[Pg 28] difficulty through the crowd, a slight altercation59, the stern voice of the detective in charge. Then, facing me, the young man emerged from the dressing room, ghastly pale, shaking the coat in which he had arrived, distraught, furious, like a man who looks upon madness. Mr. Richard Thomson leaned back in his chair, his mouth open, his whole attitude indicative of mingled60 curiosity and surprise.
"What you break off for like that, young man?" he demanded. "Have you forgotten the words? You've won the quid all right, anyway."
"I've been robbed!" the singer called out. "Something has been stolen from the pocket of this coat!"
"You locked it up yourself," I reminded him, with a sudden sinking of the heart.
"I don't care!" was the wild reply. "It was there and it is gone!"
He flung the coat to the ground with a gesture of despair. The advancing footsteps and voices were louder now. The man in the plain clothes pushed his way through the[Pg 29] wings, beckoned61 the police to follow and pointed to the young man.
"The game's up, Mountjoy," he said curtly62. "We don't want any shooting here," he added, as he saw the flash of a revolver in the other's hand. "I've half a dozen men outside besides these two."
The trapped man seemed in some measure to recover himself. He half faced me, and the revolver in his hand was a wicked looking instrument.
"Some one has been at my clothes," he muttered, his great black eyes glaring at me. "If I thought that it was you——"
I was incapable63 of reply, but I imagine that my obviously dazed condition satisfied him. He turned from me towards where Mr. Richard Thomson was seated, watching the proceedings64 with stupefied interest, breathing heavily with excitement, his mouth still a little open.
"Or you," the young man added menacingly.
Thomson held out his hands in front of his face.
[Pg 30]"You put that up, Mister," he enjoined65 earnestly. "If you're in a bit of trouble with the cops, you go through with it. Don't you get brandishing66 those things about. I've known 'em go off sometimes."
The singer's suspicions, if ever he had any, died away. He tossed the revolver to the officer, who had halted a few yards away.
"Better take me out the back away," he advised. "There'll be trouble if the crowd in front gets to know who I am."
The officer clinked a pair of handcuffs on his captive's wrists with a sigh of satisfaction. They moved off down the passage. All the time there had been a queer sort of rumble52 of voices in front, which might well have been a presage67 of the gathering68 storm. I moved back to the wings just in time to see the torch thrown. The girl who had been seated with the young man, suddenly leaped upon a bench. She snatched off her hat and veil as though afraid that they might impede69 her voice. A coil of black hair hung down her back, her face was as white as marble, but the strength of her voice was wonderful. It rang through the hall[Pg 31] so that there could not have been a person there who did not hear it.
"You cowards!" she shouted. "You have let him be taken before your eyes! That was Mountjoy who sang to you—our liberator70! Rescue him! Is there any one here from Donegal?"
Never in my life have I looked upon such a scene. The men came streaming like animals across the benches and chairs, which they dashed on one side and destroyed as though they had been paper. I was just in time to seize Rose and draw her back to the farthest corner when the sea of human forms broke across the stage. Nobody took any notice of us. They went for the back way into the street, shouting strange cries, brandishing sticks and clenched71 fists, fighting even one another in their eagerness to be first. Until they were gone, the tumult72 was too great for speech. Rose clung to my arm.
"What does it mean, Maurice?" she asked breathlessly. "Who is he?"
"I have no idea," I answered, "but I can[Pg 32] tell you one thing. To-night has been our début."
"Talk plain English," Leonard begged. "Remember we had to be on the stage all the time."
"It means," I explained, "that we've begun our little job as spokes73 in the wheel which our friend Mr. Richard Thomson is turning. You remember the other competitor, a man who never sang at all, who looked like a Jew fishmonger in his best clothes?"
"What about him?" Rose demanded.
"He was Mr. Richard Thomson," I told her. "You and I, Leonard, are simply mugs at making up. It was the most wonderful disguise I ever saw in my life."
"That accounts for it," she declared, with a little shiver. "He has been here before, watching. I told you that I felt him around, without ever recognising him."
"Where is he now?" Leonard asked abruptly.
We searched the place. There was no sign of our patron. Just as mysteriously as he had come, he had disappeared. The young lady[Pg 33] in blue satin came up and claimed her sovereign. We went down into the auditorium74 and inspected the damage. Finally, as we were on the point of leaving, a smartly dressed page came in through the back door and handed me a note. It was dated from the Adelphi Hotel and consisted only of a few lines:
Mr. Richard Thomson presents his compliments and will be glad to see Miss Mindel, Mr. Lister and Mr. Cotton to supper to-night at eleven-thirty.
History repeated itself. When we presented ourselves at the Adelphi Hotel and enquired for Mr. Richard Thomson, doors seemed to fly open before us, a reception clerk himself hurried out with smiles and bows, and conducted us to the lift. We were ushered75 into a luxurious76 sitting room on the first floor and welcomed by our host, whose carefully donned dinner clothes and generally well-cared-for appearance revealed gifts which filled me with amazement77.
"This is a very pleasant meeting," Mr. Thomson declared, as he placed us at the table and gave orders that the wine should be[Pg 34] opened. "We met last on the east coast, I remember. I trust that you are finding business better?"
"Business is wonderfully good," I acknowledged.
"We turned away money last week," Leonard announced.
There was something a little unreal about the feast which was presently served, excellent though it was, and I am quite sure that we three guests breathed a sigh of relief when at last the table was cleared and the waiter dismissed. Our host lit a cigar and leaned back in his high chair. With the passing of that smile of hospitality from his lips, his face seemed to have grown hard and unpropitious.
"I trust," he said slowly, "that you are all satisfied with our arrangement so far?"
"We are more than satisfied," I assured him, trying to infuse as much gratitude78 as I could into my tone. "I am thankful to say that we are able to put by a little every week, too, towards the capital which you advanced. The new costumes, songs and posters are bringing something of their own back."
[Pg 35]Mr. Thomson waved his hand.
"That is a matter of no concern," he pronounced. "Have you anything further to say?"
I looked at Leonard and at Rose. We all three looked at our host.
"I should like to know," I asked bluntly, "how much of my soul was scotched79 by to-night's little adventure?"
Mr. Thomson stretched out his hand for the evening paper which the waiter has just placed by his side.
"I do not wish to encourage curiosity," he remarked coldly. "Our bargain renders any explanation on my part unnecessary. You had better read aloud that item in the stop press news, however. It may allay80 your qualms81, if you are foolish enough to have any."
The sheet was wet from the press. I held it under the light and read:—
ARREST OF MOUNTJOY, THE CASTLE DERMOY MURDERER!
Denis Mountjoy was arrested to-night at a music hall in Watergate Street. A determined attempt was made at a rescue, and a[Pg 36] free fight took place outside the Watergate Street police station, all the windows of which were broken. With the arrest of Mountjoy, who will be charged with no less than five murders, it is hoped that the whole conspiracy82 of which he was the head will be broken up. It is known that he has in his possession the famous minute book of the revolutionary secret society which bore his name, and numerous other arrests may be expected at any moment. The chief constable83 has received a telephone message of congratulation from Scotland Yard.
I laid down the paper. For the life of me I could not keep back the question which rose to my lips.
"There was five hundred pounds reward for the arrest of Mountjoy. Are you claiming it?"
"Blood money," Mr. Thomson confessed, with a queer smile, "is not in my line."
"It was you who put the police on to Mountjoy?" I persisted.
"I knew," he continued presently, "I believe even the police knew, that Mountjoy was[Pg 37] lying hidden somewhere within a quarter of a mile of Watergate Street. How to draw him out of his hiding place was the problem. I remembered his two failings,—vanity, and love of hearing that beautiful voice of his. I pandered85 to them."
"You laid a trap on behalf of the police, then?"
Mr. Thomson knocked the ash from his cigar.
"That might be considered the truth," he admitted.
"And the minute book?"
"Concerning the minute book," he replied, "I have nothing to say."
Rose drew her chair a little nearer towards him. The rose-shaded electric light shone upon her fair hair, her wonderful eyes, her piquant86 face with its alluring87 smile. She leaned forward towards our host, and it seemed to me that the soft entreaty88 in her tone and the pleading of her eyes were irresistible89.
"Mr. Thomson," she said, "I am a woman, and I am desperately90, insatiably curious. I must know—please tell me—what are we[Pg 38]—you and we three? Your confederates, I suppose we are? Are we on the side of the police or the criminal, the informer, or do we come somewhere between? I must adapt my conscience to our position."
Mr. Thomson was unshaken. He looked at Rose just as though she had been an ordinary human being.
"That," he said, "may be put in the category of questions which you will be at liberty to ask me when our agreement comes to an end. Shall we call it Conundrum91 Number 1? By the bye, if it is any convenience to you to know your movements in advance, I may tell you that you will open at Bath next week."
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1
psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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presentiments
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| n.（对不祥事物的）预感( presentiment的名词复数 ) | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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furtiveness
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| 偷偷摸摸，鬼鬼祟祟 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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aspirants
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| n.有志向或渴望获得…的人( aspirant的名词复数 )v.渴望的，有抱负的，追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的第三人称单数 )；有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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aspirant
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| n.热望者；adj.渴望的 | |
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sloppy
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| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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dissuade
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| v.劝阻，阻止 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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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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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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screeching
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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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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enjoined
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| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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presage
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| n.预感，不祥感；v.预示 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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liberator
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| 解放者 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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spokes
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| n.（车轮的）辐条( spoke的名词复数 )；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 | |
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auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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scotched
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| v.阻止( scotch的过去式和过去分词 )；制止（车轮）转动；弄伤；镇压 | |
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allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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qualms
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| n.不安；内疚 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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stonily
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| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
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pandered
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| v.迎合（他人的低级趣味或淫欲）( pander的过去式和过去分词 )；纵容某人；迁就某事物 | |
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piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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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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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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conundrum
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| n.谜语；难题 | |
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