'Well, youngster, what is your name?' Captain Hampton asked, as he put the note on the table beside him.
'Here is half-a-crown for yourself, Jacob.'
'Thank you, sir,' the boy said, as he took it up with a duck of the head and slipped it into his pocket.
'Your office hours seem to be long, Jacob; that is, if you have been there since I saw you this morning.'
'No, sir, I ain't a-been there since one o'clock, not till an hour ago. I have been down at Greenwich, keeping my eye on a party there. I got done there at six o'clock, and as the governor had said "Come round and tell me what you have found out, I shall be in up to nine o'clock," round I went in course. The governor and me don't have no regular hours. Some chaps wouldn't like that, but it doesn't matter to me, 'cause I sleeps there.'
'Sleep where, Jacob?'
'In where you see me. The things is stowed away in that cupboard in the corner, and I get on first-rate. It is a good place, especially in winter. I lays the blankits down in front of the fire, and keeps it going all night sometimes.'
'But haven't you got any place of your own to go to, Jacob?'
The boy shook his head. 'I was brought up in a wan3, I was,' the boy said. 'I hooked it one day, two years ago, 'cause they knocked me about so. I pretty nigh starved at first, but one day I saw a chap prigging an old gent's ticker. The old one shouted just as he got off; I was on the look-out and as the chap came along I chucked myself down in front of him and down he came. I grabbed him, and afore he could shake me off a lot of chaps got hold of him and held him till a peeler came up. They did not find the watch on him, but I had seen him as he ran pass something to a chap he ran close to and pretty nigh knocked down. I gave my evidence at the police court. The governor happened to be there, and arter it was over and the chaps had got six months, and the beak4 had said I gave my evidence very well, and gave me five bob out of the poor box, he came up to me and said, "You are a smart young fellow. Do you want a job?" I said I just did, and so he took me on; that is how it came about, you see. The only thing I don't like is, he makes me go to a night school. He says I shan't never do no good unless I can get to read and write; so I does it, but I hates it bitter.'
'He is quite right, Jacob. You stick to it; it will come easier as you get on.'
'Yes, I know I wants it, for letters and that sort of thing, but it is bitter hard. I would rather stand opposite a house all day in winter than I would sit for an hour trying to make my pen go where I wants it to. It allus will go the other way, and the drops of ink will come out awful. Good night, sir.'
'Good night, lad. Tell Mr. Slippen when you see him that I shall probably be round to-morrow or next day.'
On the following morning Captain Hampton called early at Chester Square. Mr. Hawtrey and Dorothy had just finished breakfast. Mrs. Daintree, as was her custom after being out late the night before, had taken hers in bed.
'I have good news so far. I have discovered, or rather Slippen has, where Truscott is to be found. He frequents a public-house called the White Horse, Frogmore Street, Islington.'
'That is good news indeed, Ned,' Mr. Hawtrey said warmly, as he shook hands with him. As he turned to Dorothy, he saw with surprise that she had turned suddenly pale, and that her hands shook as she put down the cup.
'You are pleased, are you not, Dorothy?' he asked in surprise.
The girl hesitated. 'Yes,' she said, 'of course, I am pleased in one way, but not in another. It frightens me to think that the man may be brought up, and that I may have to give evidence; it is horrid5 being talked about, but it would be much worse to stand up to be stared at, and to have it all put in the papers.'
'Pooh, pooh, my dear, your evidence will be very simple,' her father said. 'You will only have to tell that you received the first of these letters, that you know nothing of the man, and that his assertion that he has letters of yours is utterly6 false.'
'Yes, father, but I have noticed that in all trials of this sort they ask such numberless questions, and that they always manage somehow to put the witnesses into a false light. They will say, "How do you know that he has no letters of yours? Do you mean to tell this court that you have never written any letters?" And when I have said I have never written any letters that I should object to having read out in court they will insinuate7 that I am telling a lie, and that I have done all sorts of dreadful things; and though they will not be able to prove a word of it, I shall know, as I go out, that half the people will believe that I have. I shall hate it, and I am sure that Algernon will hate it even more.'
'Well, Algernon has no one but himself to thank for its having come to this pass,' Mr. Hawtrey said sharply. 'It was his interference, and his going down to Scotland Yard, that caused that paragraph to appear in the paper. If he had left the matter alone nothing whatever would have been heard about it outside our circle. I like Halliburn, but I must say that at present nothing would give me more satisfaction than to hear that he had gone for a month upon the Continent, for he comes round here every afternoon, and worries and fusses over the matter until he upsets you and fills me with an almost irresistible8 desire to seize him by the shoulders and turn him out of the room.'
'He is a little trying, father,' Dorothy admitted, 'but of course he does not like it.'
'Nor do any of us. It is a hundred times worse for you than it is for him, and yet—But there, let us change the subject. What is it you were saying, Ned? Oh yes, you have heard where Truscott lives.'
'Not exactly where he lives, but the public-house where he is to be met with, and in his case it comes to pretty well the same thing. I had nothing to do with finding it out. The man Slippen took it in hand, and in a few hours did more than I had done in three weeks. He sent a fellow down to Windsor, to some betting men he knew, and sent me word in the evening. It was rather mortifying9, I must confess, and I feel as if I had been taken down several pegs10 in my own estimation.'
'And what is to be done next, father?' Dorothy asked anxiously.
'Ah, that is the point we shall have to talk over, my dear. At present we have not a thread of evidence to connect him with the affair. We must, in the first place, bring it home to him. Afterwards, we will see whether we must have him arrested and charged in court, or whether we can frighten him into making a confession11. I am very much afraid that, after all that has been said about it, there will be nothing for it but a public prosecution12; however, there will be time to think of that afterwards.' Captain Hampton saw Dorothy go pale again, and mentally resolved that he would do all in his power to save her from the ordeal13 from which she evidently shrank. He was a little surprised at her nervousness, for as a child she had been absolutely fearless, but he supposed that the worry, and perhaps the fidgeting of Halliburn had shaken her somewhat, as, indeed, was natural enough. 'You are going round to see this detective, I suppose?' Mr. Hawtrey asked.
'Yes, I came in on my way for instructions. Slippen will no doubt propose that a sharp watch shall be kept over his movements, and I suppose that there can be no doubt that is the right thing to be done.'
'I should say so, certainly.'
'That, at least, Miss Hawtrey, will commit us to nothing afterwards, and I trust even yet we may find some way of avoiding the unpleasantness you feared.'
'I may as well go with you, Ned,' Mr. Hawtrey said; 'I have nothing particular to do this morning; a walk will do me good. I am getting bilious14 and out of sorts with all this worry, and would give a good round sum to be quietly down in Lincolnshire again. Dorothy evidently feels it a good deal more than I should have thought she would,' he went on as they left the house.
'It is a horribly annoying sort of thing to happen to anyone, Mr. Hawtrey; because it is so desperately15 difficult to meet anonymous16 slander17 of this sort, and of course her engagement makes it so much the worse for her.'
'Yes, that is the rub, Ned. I am not at all pleased with the fellow; he seems to think of nothing but the manner in which it affects himself. I have had, once or twice, as much as I could do not to let out at him. I had it on the tip of my tongue to say, "Confound it, sir! What the deuce do I care for you or your family? The ancestors through whom you got your title were doubtless respectable enough, and as far as I know, may, two or three generations back, have been washer-women, when our people had already held their estates hundreds of years." Of course, Dorothy takes his part, but my own belief is that it is he who is worrying her, quite as much as the scandal itself.
'Dorothy is not marrying for a title; she refused a higher one than his last autumn. I don't say that his being a lord might not have influenced her to some extent; I suppose all girls have vanity enough to like to carry off a man whom scores of others will envy her for, but I don't think that went very far with her. I believe that, as far as she knew of him, she liked him for himself; not, I suppose, in any desperate sort of way, but as a pleasant, gentlemanly sort of fellow of whom everyone spoke18 well, and whom she esteemed19 and thought she could be very happy with. She has no occasion to marry for money; of course my estate is, as I dare say you know, entailed20, and will go to my cousin, Jack21 Hawtrey, who is a sporting parson down in Somersetshire—a good fellow, with a large family; but there will be plenty for her from her mother, besides my unentailed property.
'I cannot help thinking that Halliburn's worrying, and the very evident fact that he thinks more of the scandal as affecting his future wife than of her feelings in the matter, may have shown her that she had over-estimated him, and that although he may be a very respectable and well-behaved young nobleman, he is a selfish and shallow-minded fellow after all. Dorothy may say nothing now, but she is not the sort of girl to forgive that sort of thing, and I don't mind saying it to you, as an old friend, Ned, that I should not be at all surprised if, when once this affair is thoroughly22 cleared up, she throws Halliburn over altogether.'
Captain Hampton made no reply, but had his companion turned to look at him he could hardly have avoided noticing that the expression on his face expressed anything but sympathy with the tone of irritation23 in which he had himself spoken.
Mr. Slippen was in when they arrived at Clifford's Inn. The door was opened by him when they knocked, a proof that the boy was not at his post.
'Come in, Captain Hampton; I fancied that you would be down here.'
'This is Mr. Hawtrey, Mr. Slippen,' said Ned, as they followed him into his room; 'he thought he would like to talk over with you the plan of campaign.'
'I am glad you have come, sir; it is always more satisfactory to meet one's principal in matters of this kind; there is less chance of any mistake being made. It is surprising sometimes to find, after one is half through one's work, that one has been proceeding24 under an entirely25 false impression. One may think, for example, that one's client is bent26 upon carrying a matter out to the bitter end, and will not hear of anything of a compromise, and then one discovers that he is perfectly27 ready to condone28 everything, and to make every sacrifice to avoid publicity29. Of course, if one had known that in the first place, it would have immensely facilitated matters.'
'I should be very glad to avoid publicity myself,' Mr. Hawtrey said, 'but unfortunately the matter has gone so far that I do not see how it can possibly be avoided.'
Mr. Slippen shook his head.
'I don't see, myself, at present,' he agreed, 'how the scandal is to be set at rest, except by the prosecution of its author—that is to say, if we can get evidence enough to prosecute30 him. Of course, if we had such evidence it would be easy enough to force him into making a complete retractation; but, if we did, such a retractation would hardly be satisfactory, as, supposing it were published, people would say, "How are we to know that this letter is written by the fellow who wrote the others? If it is the man, how is it that he is not prosecuted31 for it?" Certainly there would be a strong suspicion that he had been bought off.'
'I see that myself,' Mr. Hawtrey agreed. 'I don't see any other way of clearing the matter up except by putting him in the dock, though I would give a great deal to avoid it. My daughter is extremely averse32 to the idea of the publicity attending such an affair, and especially to having to appear as a witness, which is not surprising when one knows the outrageous33 licence given to counsel in our days to cross-examine witnesses.'
Captain Hampton noticed the sudden keen glance shot at his client from Mr. Slippen's eyes, followed by a series of almost imperceptible little nods, and was seized with a sudden and fierce desire to make a violent assault upon the unconscious detective.
'At any rate,' Mr. Hawtrey continued, 'I see nothing at present but to let the matter go on, and for you to obtain, if possible, some decisive proof of the man's connection with these letters. So far we have really only the most shadowy grounds for our suspicion against him.'
Again Mr. Slippen nodded, this time more openly and decisively.
'Quite the most shadowy, Mr. Hawtrey. I am far from saying that he may not be the man, but beyond his having, as I understand, a grievance34 of very many years' duration against yourself there is really nothing whatever to connect him with the affair.'
'Nothing, Mr. Slippen. It is, in fact, simply because there is no one else against whom we have even such slight grounds as this to go upon, that we suspect this fellow of being the author of these rascally35 communications.'
'You will understand, Mr. Hawtrey, that being employed by you I consider it my duty to let you know exactly the light in which the matter strikes me. Of course, I do not know the man as you do, but from what I have learnt from Captain Hampton he seems to be an unprincipled blackguard; a man who has been concerned in various shady transactions on the turf, and who has come down to the rank of the lowest class of betting men; a fellow who pays his bets when he has made a winning book on a race and is a welsher when he loses.
'Of course, it may be that such a man is of so vindictive36 a nature that he may have taken all this trouble simply to annoy you, but I cannot help thinking that if he had embarked37 upon it he would have played his hand so as not only to annoy but to extort38 money to cease that annoyance39. Now the writer of these letters has certainly not done that. Had he had any idea of extorting40 money he would have sent some sort of private intimation to you, by means of a cautiously worded letter, to the effect that an arrangement could be made by which the thing could be put a stop to. You have received no such missive; therefore, if this man is the author he is simply a malicious41 scoundrel, and not, in this instance at any rate, a clever rogue42, as I should certainly have expected to find him from his antecedents.'
'That is to say, you do not think he is the man?'
'Yes, I think it comes almost to that, Mr. Hawtrey. I do not know him, and, of course, he may be the man, but I own that I shall be a good deal surprised if I find that he is so. Still, in the absence of any other clue whatever, I propose to follow this up. It will be something at least to clear it out of the way and to have done with it. I shall detail my boy to watch the public-house till the man comes to it, and then to find out where he lives and what are his habits; to follow his footsteps and take note of every place where he posts a letter. We shall get, at any rate, negative evidence that way. If, for instance, a letter is posted in the south of London, and we know that on that day the man never went out of Islington, I think that it will be very strong proof that he has nothing to do with the matter. Of course the reverse would not be so convincing the other way; but if we had the coincidence, three or four times repeated, of the letter bearing the mark of a district in which he had dropped one into the post, we should feel that we were a long way towards proving his connection with the affair.'
'Quite so,' Mr. Hawtrey agreed; 'that will, as you say, either go far to confirm our suspicions, or will altogether clear the ground so far as he is concerned, and we must then look for a clue in some other direction altogether.'
That afternoon Captain Hampton, having nothing to do, made his way up to Islington. The lad was not to be put on the watch until the next morning, and he thought that he might see this man at the public-house he frequented, and perhaps glean43 something from any conversation he might have with the men he met there. After some inquiry44 as to the direction of Frogmore Street, he turned up the Liverpool Road, and had gone but a few hundred yards when his eye fell on a couple engaged in earnest conversation on the raised walk, on the opposite side of the street. He paused abruptly45 in his stride. One was unquestionably the man for whom he was seeking. He was better dressed than when he had seen him before, and had more the air of a gentleman, but there could be no question as to his identity. The other was as unmistakably Dorothy Hawtrey.
There was no question of an accidental likeness46; it was the girl herself, and he recognised the dress as one he had seen her wear. Turning sharply on his heel he turned down a bye street, and came out into Upper Street. There were too many people here for him to think; he passed on, walking in the road at the edge of the pavement, to the Angel, and then turned down the comparatively quiet pavement of Pentonville Hill.
What could it mean? He could see but one solution, and yet he refused to accept it. To believe it was to believe Dorothy Hawtrey to be guilty of deception47 and lying. Was it possible that, after all, this man could have possessed48 letters of hers, and that she had been driven at last to meet him and redeem49 them? He remembered her pallor when she had heard that morning that this fellow's whereabouts had been discovered, and how she had urged that no steps should be taken against him. It had all seemed natural then; it seemed equally natural now under this new light—and yet he refused to believe it. So he told himself over and over again. That he had seen her in conversation with Truscott was undeniable; of that, at least, he was certain, but equally certain was it to him that there must be some other explanation of the meeting than that which had at first struck him. What could that explanation be? No answer occurred to him; he could hit upon no hypothesis consistent with her denial of any knowledge whatever of the writer of these letters.
He was at the bottom of the hill now; disregarding the hails of various cabmen, he crossed the road and made his way down through the squares. It was better to be walking than sitting still. He scarcely noticed where he was going, and was almost surprised when he found himself in Jermyn Street. He went upstairs, lighted a cigar, and sat down.
'What is coming to me?' he said to himself. 'I am generally pretty good at guessing riddles50, and there must be some explanation of this mystery, if I can but hit upon it.'
But after thinking for another hour, the only alternative to the first idea that had occurred to him was that Dorothy, in her horror of the idea of a public trial and of being forced to appear in the witness box, had taken the desperate resolution to find this man herself, at the address he had mentioned to her and her father, to bribe51 him to desist from his persecution52 of her, and to warn him that unless he moved away at once the police would be on his track.
It was all so unlike the high-spirited child he had known, and the girl as he had believed her still to be, that it was difficult to credit that she would allow herself to be driven to take such a step as this, in order to escape what seemed to him a minor53 unpleasantness.
Still, as he told himself, there were men of tried bravery in many respects who were moral cowards, and it might well be that, though generally fearless, Dorothy might have a nervous shrinking from the thought of standing54 up in a crowded court, exposed to an inquisition that in many cases was almost a martyrdom. It was an awful mistake to have made. If the scoundrel had been bribed55 into silence now, he would be all the more certain to recommence his persecution later on, and after having once met with and paid him for his silence how could she refuse to do so when another demand was made?
One thing seemed to Ned Hampton unquestionable. He must maintain an absolute silence as to what he had seen—the harm was done now and could not be undone56. He was certain that she had not noticed him, and could never suspect that he had her secret. As for himself there was nothing for him now but to stand aside altogether. Filled as he was with the deepest pity for Dorothy, he was powerless to help her. When the next trouble came it was her husband who would have to stand beside her, and to whom, sooner or later, she would have to own the false step she had taken.
He felt that at any rate it was out of the question that he should see her again at present. It was fortunate that he had retired57 from the investigation58 in favour of Mr. Slippen, and could therefore run away for a bit without seeming to have deserted59 Mr. Hawtrey. He had thought about hiring a yacht, and this would serve as a pretext60 for him to run down to Ryde. He could easily put away a fortnight between that town, Cowes, Southampton, and Portsmouth. As to the yacht he had no real intention now of looking for one. He must wait for a while and see what happened next. He was sure to meet men he knew at Southsea, and anything was better than staying in London.
He accordingly at once wrote a note to Mr. Hawtrey, saying that it would be some time before Slippen obtained such evidence against Truscott as would put them in a position to bring it home to him, and that as he could not be of any use for a time he had resolved to run down for a week to Southsea, and look round the various yards in search of a yacht of about the size he wanted, for a cruise of six weeks or two months, with the option of taking her up the Mediterranean61 through the winter. Then he wrote several letters of excuse to houses where he had engagements, and started the next morning by the first train for Portsmouth. He was a fortnight absent, and on his return called on Mr. Hawtrey at an hour when he knew that he was not likely to meet Dorothy.
'So you are back again, Ned? Your note took me quite by surprise, for you had said nothing as to your going away when I met you early in the day.'
'No, sir, it was a sort of sudden inspiration. I was sick of London, and had had a very dull time of it going about to races for three weeks before; so I thought that I would have a complete change, made up my mind at once, packed my portmanteau, and was off. Have you had any news from Slippen?'
'None. He has written to me two or three times; his last note came this morning, saying that his boy has been watching the public-house ever since, and that the man has certainly not been there. The boy is a sharp fellow and found that the fellow had called in there on the very day before he began his watch, and he also discovered by bribing62 a postman where he had lodged63, but upon going there found he had given up his room on the same day he had last been at the public-house, and had left no address, nor had the people of the house the slightest idea where he had gone. I suppose the fellow took fright at the publicity there had been about the affair; at any rate, no more of those letters have come since. That is certainly a comfort, but it looks as if we were never going to get to the bottom of the mystery. Of course, it is extremely annoying, but I suppose we shall live it down. Halliburn offered a reward of a hundred pounds for the discovery of Truscott's, or as he calls him Marvel's, address. That was a week ago, and he has received no answer as yet, which is certainly a fresh proof that the fellow was the author of the letters. If not, he himself would have turned up and claimed the reward.'
'That is not quite certain, Mr. Hawtrey. He has doubtless been concerned in many other shady transactions, and may think he is wanted for some other affair altogether.'
'You are right, that may be so; I did not think of that. Still, it is strange the offer of a reward has brought no news of him. He must be well known to numbers of men who would sell their own father for a hundred pounds.'
'If he is really alarmed he may have changed his name, and gone to some part of the country where he is altogether unknown, or he may have crossed the Channel to some of the French or Belgian ports. There is a lot of betting carried on from that side, and he may manage to live there as he has lived here—by fleecing fools.'
Two days later, Hampton met the Hawtreys at a dinner-party. Dorothy was looking pale and languid, but at times she roused herself and talked with almost feverish64 gaiety. Lord Halliburn was there; he was sitting next to Dorothy, and seemed silent and preoccupied65, and looked, Hampton thought, vexed66 when she had one of her fits of talking. When they had rejoined the ladies after dinner Hampton was chatting with the lady he had taken down, and who was an old friend of his family.
'Is it not awfully67 sad, this affair of Miss Hawtrey's?' she said. 'It is evidently preying68 on her health. I never saw anybody more changed in the course of a few weeks. Of course, everyone who knows her is quite certain that there is no foundation whatever for these wicked libels about her. Still, naturally, people who don't know her think that there must be something in it, and she must know, wherever she goes, that people are talking about it. It is terrible! I do not know what I should do were she a daughter of mine.'
'Yes, it is a most painful position; there does not seem any method by which these anonymous libels can be met and answered. The most scandalous part of the business is that any notice of a thing of this sort should get into the papers. The form in which it was noticed rendered it impossible to obtain redress69 of any kind; the statements contained as to the annoyance caused by these letters, and as to the nature of their contents, were accurate, and Mr. Hawtrey is therefore unable to take any steps against them. I have known Miss Hawtrey from the time that she was a little child; as you are aware they are my greatest friends, and I assure you that one's powerlessness in these days to take any step to right a wrong of this sort, makes me wish I had lived at any time save in the middle of the nineteenth century. A hundred years ago one would have called out the editor or proprietor70, or whatever he calls himself, of a paper that published this thing, and shot him like a dog; four hundred years ago one would have sent him a formal challenge to do battle in the lists; if one had lived in Italy a couple of centuries back, and had adopted the customs of the country, one would have had him removed by a stab in the back by a bravo—not a manner that commends itself to me I own, but which, as against a man whose journal exists by attacking reputations is, I should consider, perfectly legitimate71.'
'I don't know. The anonymous libeller could really have done no harm had it not been that there were organs that were ready to inform the world of his attacks upon this lady; the letters could have been burnt and none been any the wiser, and in time the annoyance would have ceased.'
'Do you think the author of these things will ever be found out?'
'I should hardly think so. It is clearly the outcome of malice73 on the part of some man or woman who has either a grudge74 against Mr. Hawtrey, his daughter, or Lord Halliburn, or of some one interested in breaking off Miss Hawtrey's engagement.'
'I don't think Lord Halliburn has behaved nicely in the matter,' Mrs. Dean said. 'If he had shown himself perfectly indifferent to the affair from the first, people would never have talked so much. It is his palpable annoyance that has more than confirmed these gossiping rumours75.'
'Between ourselves, Mrs. Dean, although I should not at all mind his knowing it, my opinion is, that Halliburn is a cad.'
Mrs. Dean laughed. 'It is next door to blasphemy76 to speak in society of a peer as a cad, Captain Hampton; still, I am not at all sure that you are wrong. But I must be going; my husband has been making signs to me for the last ten minutes.'
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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promptly
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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utterly
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insinuate
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irresistible
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mortifying
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pegs
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confession
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prosecution
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ordeal
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bilious
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desperately
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anonymous
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slander
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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condone
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| v.宽恕；原谅 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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prosecuted
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| a.被起诉的 | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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rascally
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| adj. 无赖的，恶棍的 adv. 无赖地，卑鄙地 | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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extort
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| v.勒索，敲诈，强要 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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extorting
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| v.敲诈( extort的现在分词 )；曲解 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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glean
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| v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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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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riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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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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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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bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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bribing
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| 贿赂 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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preying
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| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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redress
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| n.赔偿，救济，矫正；v.纠正，匡正，革除 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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73
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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74
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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