I supped off half those biscuits, and by worming myself deep into the heather got some kind of warmth. My spirits had risen, and I was beginning to enjoy this crazy game of hide-and-seek. So far I had been miraculously4 lucky. The milkman, the literary innkeeper, Sir Harry5, the roadman, and the idiotic6 Marmie, were all pieces of undeserved good fortune. Somehow the first success gave me a feeling that I was going to pull the thing through.
My chief trouble was that I was desperately7 hungry. When a Jew shoots himself in the City and there is an inquest, the newspapers usually report that the deceased was “well-nourished”. I remember thinking that they would not call me well-nourished if I broke my neck in a bog-hole. I lay and tortured myself—for the ginger biscuits merely emphasized the aching void—with the memory of all the good food I had thought so little of in London. There were Paddock’s crisp sausages and fragrant8 shavings of bacon, and shapely poached eggs—how often I had turned up my nose at them! There were the cutlets they did at the club, and a particular ham that stood on the cold table, for which my soul lusted9. My thoughts hovered10 over all varieties of mortal edible11, and finally settled on a porterhouse steak and a quart of bitter with a welsh rabbit to follow. In longing12 hopelessly for these dainties I fell asleep.
I woke very cold and stiff about an hour after dawn. It took me a little while to remember where I was, for I had been very weary and had slept heavily. I saw first the pale blue sky through a net of heather, then a big shoulder of hill, and then my own boots placed neatly13 in a blaeberry bush. I raised myself on my arms and looked down into the valley, and that one look set me lacing up my boots in mad haste.
For there were men below, not more than a quarter of a mile off, spaced out on the hillside like a fan, and beating the heather. Marmie had not been slow in looking for his revenge.
I crawled out of my shelf into the cover of a boulder, and from it gained a shallow trench14 which slanted15 up the mountain face. This led me presently into the narrow gully of a burn, by way of which I scrambled16 to the top of the ridge17. From there I looked back, and saw that I was still undiscovered. My pursuers were patiently quartering the hillside and moving upwards18.
Keeping behind the skyline I ran for maybe half a mile, till I judged I was above the uppermost end of the glen. Then I showed myself, and was instantly noted19 by one of the flankers, who passed the word to the others. I heard cries coming up from below, and saw that the line of search had changed its direction. I pretended to retreat over the skyline, but instead went back the way I had come, and in twenty minutes was behind the ridge overlooking my sleeping place. From that viewpoint I had the satisfaction of seeing the pursuit streaming up the hill at the top of the glen on a hopelessly false scent20.
I had before me a choice of routes, and I chose a ridge which made an angle with the one I was on, and so would soon put a deep glen between me and my enemies. The exercise had warmed my blood, and I was beginning to enjoy myself amazingly. As I went I breakfasted on the dusty remnants of the ginger biscuits.
I knew very little about the country, and I hadn’t a notion what I was going to do. I trusted to the strength of my legs, but I was well aware that those behind me would be familiar with the lie of the land, and that my ignorance would be a heavy handicap. I saw in front of me a sea of hills, rising very high towards the south, but northwards breaking down into broad ridges22 which separated wide and shallow dales. The ridge I had chosen seemed to sink after a mile or two to a moor23 which lay like a pocket in the uplands. That seemed as good a direction to take as any other.
My stratagem24 had given me a fair start—call it twenty minutes—and I had the width of a glen behind me before I saw the first heads of the pursuers. The police had evidently called in local talent to their aid, and the men I could see had the appearance of herds25 or gamekeepers. They hallooed at the sight of me, and I waved my hand. Two dived into the glen and began to climb my ridge, while the others kept their own side of the hill. I felt as if I were taking part in a schoolboy game of hare and hounds.
But very soon it began to seem less of a game. Those fellows behind were hefty men on their native heath. Looking back I saw that only three were following direct, and I guessed that the others had fetched a circuit to cut me off. My lack of local knowledge might very well be my undoing26, and I resolved to get out of this tangle27 of glens to the pocket of moor I had seen from the tops. I must so increase my distance as to get clear away from them, and I believed I could do this if I could find the right ground for it. If there had been cover I would have tried a bit of stalking, but on these bare slopes you could see a fly a mile off. My hope must be in the length of my legs and the soundness of my wind, but I needed easier ground for that, for I was not bred a mountaineer. How I longed for a good Afrikander pony28!
I put on a great spurt29 and got off my ridge and down into the moor before any figures appeared on the skyline behind me. I crossed a burn, and came out on a highroad which made a pass between two glens. All in front of me was a big field of heather sloping up to a crest30 which was crowned with an odd feather of trees. In the dyke31 by the roadside was a gate, from which a grass-grown track led over the first wave of the moor.
I jumped the dyke and followed it, and after a few hundred yards—as soon as it was out of sight of the highway—the grass stopped and it became a very respectable road, which was evidently kept with some care. Clearly it ran to a house, and I began to think of doing the same. Hitherto my luck had held, and it might be that my best chance would be found in this remote dwelling32. Anyhow there were trees there, and that meant cover.
I did not follow the road, but the burnside which flanked it on the right, where the bracken grew deep and the high banks made a tolerable screen. It was well I did so, for no sooner had I gained the hollow than, looking back, I saw the pursuit topping the ridge from which I had descended34.
After that I did not look back; I had no time. I ran up the burnside, crawling over the open places, and for a large part wading35 in the shallow stream. I found a deserted36 cottage with a row of phantom37 peat-stacks and an overgrown garden. Then I was among young hay, and very soon had come to the edge of a plantation38 of wind-blown firs. From there I saw the chimneys of the house smoking a few hundred yards to my left. I forsook39 the burnside, crossed another dyke, and almost before I knew was on a rough lawn. A glance back told me that I was well out of sight of the pursuit, which had not yet passed the first lift of the moor.
The lawn was a very rough place, cut with a scythe40 instead of a mower41, and planted with beds of scrubby rhododendrons. A brace42 of black-game, which are not usually garden birds, rose at my approach. The house before me was the ordinary moorland farm, with a more pretentious43 whitewashed44 wing added. Attached to this wing was a glass veranda45, and through the glass I saw the face of an elderly gentleman meekly46 watching me.
I stalked over the border of coarse hill gravel47 and entered the open veranda door. Within was a pleasant room, glass on one side, and on the other a mass of books. More books showed in an inner room. On the floor, instead of tables, stood cases such as you see in a museum, filled with coins and queer stone implements48.
There was a knee-hole desk in the middle, and seated at it, with some papers and open volumes before him, was the benevolent49 old gentleman. His face was round and shiny, like Mr Pickwick’s, big glasses were stuck on the end of his nose, and the top of his head was as bright and bare as a glass bottle. He never moved when I entered, but raised his placid50 eyebrows51 and waited on me to speak.
It was not an easy job, with about five minutes to spare, to tell a stranger who I was and what I wanted, and to win his aid. I did not attempt it. There was something about the eye of the man before me, something so keen and knowledgeable52, that I could not find a word. I simply stared at him and stuttered.
“You seem in a hurry, my friend,” he said slowly.
I nodded towards the window. It gave a prospect53 across the moor through a gap in the plantation, and revealed certain figures half a mile off straggling through the heather.
“Ah, I see,” he said, and took up a pair of field-glasses through which he patiently scrutinized54 the figures.
“A fugitive55 from justice, eh? Well, we’ll go into the matter at our leisure. Meantime I object to my privacy being broken in upon by the clumsy rural policeman. Go into my study, and you will see two doors facing you. Take the one on the left and close it behind you. You will be perfectly56 safe.”
And this extraordinary man took up his pen again.
I did as I was bid, and found myself in a little dark chamber57 which smelt58 of chemicals, and was lit only by a tiny window high up in the wall. The door had swung behind me with a click like the door of a safe. Once again I had found an unexpected sanctuary59.
All the same I was not comfortable. There was something about the old gentleman which puzzled and rather terrified me. He had been too easy and ready, almost as if he had expected me. And his eyes had been horribly intelligent.
No sound came to me in that dark place. For all I knew the police might be searching the house, and if they did they would want to know what was behind this door. I tried to possess my soul in patience, and to forget how hungry I was.
Then I took a more cheerful view. The old gentleman could scarcely refuse me a meal, and I fell to reconstructing my breakfast. Bacon and eggs would content me, but I wanted the better part of a flitch of bacon and half a hundred eggs. And then, while my mouth was watering in anticipation60, there was a click and the door stood open.
I emerged into the sunlight to find the master of the house sitting in a deep armchair in the room he called his study, and regarding me with curious eyes.
“Have they gone?” I asked.
“They have gone. I convinced them that you had crossed the hill. I do not choose that the police should come between me and one whom I am delighted to honour. This is a lucky morning for you, Mr Richard Hannay.”
As he spoke61 his eyelids62 seemed to tremble and to fall a little over his keen grey eyes. In a flash the phrase of Scudder’s came back to me, when he had described the man he most dreaded63 in the world. He had said that he “could hood64 his eyes like a hawk”. Then I saw that I had walked straight into the enemy’s headquarters.
My first impulse was to throttle65 the old ruffian and make for the open air. He seemed to anticipate my intention, for he smiled gently, and nodded to the door behind me. I turned, and saw two men-servants who had me covered with pistols.
He knew my name, but he had never seen me before. And as the reflection darted66 across my mind I saw a slender chance.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said roughly. “And who are you calling Richard Hannay? My name’s Ainslie.”
“So?” he said, still smiling. “But of course you have others. We won’t quarrel about a name.”
I was pulling myself together now, and I reflected that my garb67, lacking coat and waistcoat and collar, would at any rate not betray me. I put on my surliest face and shrugged68 my shoulders.
“I suppose you’re going to give me up after all, and I call it a damned dirty trick. My God, I wish I had never seen that cursed motor-car! Here’s the money and be damned to you,” and I flung four sovereigns on the table.
He opened his eyes a little. “Oh no, I shall not give you up. My friends and I will have a little private settlement with you, that is all. You know a little too much, Mr Hannay. You are a clever actor, but not quite clever enough.”
He spoke with assurance, but I could see the dawning of a doubt in his mind.
“Oh, for God’s sake stop jawing,” I cried. “Everything’s against me. I haven’t had a bit of luck since I came on shore at Leith. What’s the harm in a poor devil with an empty stomach picking up some money he finds in a bust-up motor-car? That’s all I done, and for that I’ve been chivvied for two days by those blasted bobbies over those blasted hills. I tell you I’m fair sick of it. You can do what you like, old boy! Ned Ainslie’s got no fight left in him.”
I could see that the doubt was gaining.
“Will you oblige me with the story of your recent doings?” he asked.
“I can’t, guv’nor,” I said in a real beggar’s whine69. “I’ve not had a bite to eat for two days. Give me a mouthful of food, and then you’ll hear God’s truth.”
I must have showed my hunger in my face, for he signalled to one of the men in the doorway70. A bit of cold pie was brought and a glass of beer, and I wolfed them down like a pig—or rather, like Ned Ainslie, for I was keeping up my character. In the middle of my meal he spoke suddenly to me in German, but I turned on him a face as blank as a stone wall.
Then I told him my story—how I had come off an Archangel ship at Leith a week ago, and was making my way overland to my brother at Wigtown. I had run short of cash—I hinted vaguely71 at a spree—and I was pretty well on my uppers when I had come on a hole in a hedge, and, looking through, had seen a big motor-car lying in the burn. I had poked72 about to see what had happened, and had found three sovereigns lying on the seat and one on the floor. There was nobody there or any sign of an owner, so I had pocketed the cash. But somehow the law had got after me. When I had tried to change a sovereign in a baker’s shop, the woman had cried on the police, and a little later, when I was washing my face in a burn, I had been nearly gripped, and had only got away by leaving my coat and waistcoat behind me.
“They can have the money back,” I cried, “for a fat lot of good it’s done me. Those perishers are all down on a poor man. Now, if it had been you, guv’nor, that had found the quids, nobody would have troubled you.”
I flew into a rage. “Stop fooling, damn you! I tell you my name’s Ainslie, and I never heard of anyone called Hannay in my born days. I’d sooner have the police than you with your Hannays and your monkey-faced pistol tricks.... No, guv’nor, I beg pardon, I don’t mean that. I’m much obliged to you for the grub, and I’ll thank you to let me go now the coast’s clear.”
It was obvious that he was badly puzzled. You see he had never seen me, and my appearance must have altered considerably73 from my photographs, if he had got one of them. I was pretty smart and well dressed in London, and now I was a regular tramp.
“I do not propose to let you go. If you are what you say you are, you will soon have a chance of clearing yourself. If you are what I believe you are, I do not think you will see the light much longer.”
He rang a bell, and a third servant appeared from the veranda.
There was something weird77 and devilish in those eyes, cold, malignant78, unearthly, and most hellishly clever. They fascinated me like the bright eyes of a snake. I had a strong impulse to throw myself on his mercy and offer to join his side, and if you consider the way I felt about the whole thing you will see that that impulse must have been purely79 physical, the weakness of a brain mesmerized80 and mastered by a stronger spirit. But I managed to stick it out and even to grin.
“You’ll know me next time, guv’nor,” I said.
“Karl,” he spoke in German to one of the men in the doorway, “you will put this fellow in the storeroom till I return, and you will be answerable to me for his keeping.”
I was marched out of the room with a pistol at each ear.
The storeroom was a damp chamber in what had been the old farmhouse81. There was no carpet on the uneven82 floor, and nothing to sit down on but a school form. It was black as pitch, for the windows were heavily shuttered. I made out by groping that the walls were lined with boxes and barrels and sacks of some heavy stuff. The whole place smelt of mould and disuse. My gaolers turned the key in the door, and I could hear them shifting their feet as they stood on guard outside.
I sat down in that chilly83 darkness in a very miserable84 frame of mind. The old boy had gone off in a motor to collect the two ruffians who had interviewed me yesterday. Now, they had seen me as the roadman, and they would remember me, for I was in the same rig. What was a roadman doing twenty miles from his beat, pursued by the police? A question or two would put them on the track. Probably they had seen Mr Turnbull, probably Marmie too; most likely they could link me up with Sir Harry, and then the whole thing would be crystal clear. What chance had I in this moorland house with three desperadoes and their armed servants?
I began to think wistfully of the police, now plodding85 over the hills after my wraith86. They at any rate were fellow-countrymen and honest men, and their tender mercies would be kinder than these ghoulish aliens. But they wouldn’t have listened to me. That old devil with the eyelids had not taken long to get rid of them. I thought he probably had some kind of graft87 with the constabulary. Most likely he had letters from Cabinet Ministers saying he was to be given every facility for plotting against Britain. That’s the sort of owlish way we run our politics in this jolly old country.
The three would be back for lunch, so I hadn’t more than a couple of hours to wait. It was simply waiting on destruction, for I could see no way out of this mess. I wished that I had Scudder’s courage, for I am free to confess I didn’t feel any great fortitude88. The only thing that kept me going was that I was pretty furious. It made me boil with rage to think of those three spies getting the pull on me like this. I hoped that at any rate I might be able to twist one of their necks before they downed me.
The more I thought of it the angrier I grew, and I had to get up and move about the room. I tried the shutters89, but they were the kind that lock with a key, and I couldn’t move them. From the outside came the faint clucking of hens in the warm sun. Then I groped among the sacks and boxes. I couldn’t open the latter, and the sacks seemed to be full of things like dog-biscuits that smelt of cinnamon. But, as I circumnavigated the room, I found a handle in the wall which seemed worth investigating.
It was the door of a wall cupboard—what they call a “press” in Scotland—and it was locked. I shook it, and it seemed rather flimsy. For want of something better to do I put out my strength on that door, getting some purchase on the handle by looping my braces90 round it. Presently the thing gave with a crash which I thought would bring in my warders to inquire. I waited for a bit, and then started to explore the cupboard shelves.
There was a multitude of queer things there. I found an odd vesta or two in my trouser pockets and struck a light. It was out in a second, but it showed me one thing. There was a little stock of electric torches on one shelf. I picked up one, and found it was in working order.
With the torch to help me I investigated further. There were bottles and cases of queer-smelling stuffs, chemicals no doubt for experiments, and there were coils of fine copper91 wire and yanks and yanks of thin oiled silk. There was a box of detonators, and a lot of cord for fuses. Then away at the back of the shelf I found a stout92 brown cardboard box, and inside it a wooden case. I managed to wrench93 it open, and within lay half a dozen little grey bricks, each a couple of inches square.
I took up one, and found that it crumbled94 easily in my hand. Then I smelt it and put my tongue to it. After that I sat down to think. I hadn’t been a mining engineer for nothing, and I knew lentonite when I saw it.
With one of these bricks I could blow the house to smithereens. I had used the stuff in Rhodesia and knew its power. But the trouble was that my knowledge wasn’t exact. I had forgotten the proper charge and the right way of preparing it, and I wasn’t sure about the timing95. I had only a vague notion, too, as to its power, for though I had used it I had not handled it with my own fingers.
But it was a chance, the only possible chance. It was a mighty96 risk, but against it was an absolute black certainty. If I used it the odds97 were, as I reckoned, about five to one in favour of my blowing myself into the tree-tops; but if I didn’t I should very likely be occupying a six-foot hole in the garden by the evening. That was the way I had to look at it. The prospect was pretty dark either way, but anyhow there was a chance, both for myself and for my country.
The remembrance of little Scudder decided98 me. It was about the beastliest moment of my life, for I’m no good at these cold-blooded resolutions. Still I managed to rake up the pluck to set my teeth and choke back the horrid99 doubts that flooded in on me. I simply shut off my mind and pretended I was doing an experiment as simple as Guy Fawkes fireworks.
I got a detonator, and fixed100 it to a couple of feet of fuse. Then I took a quarter of a lentonite brick, and buried it near the door below one of the sacks in a crack of the floor, fixing the detonator in it. For all I knew half those boxes might be dynamite101. If the cupboard held such deadly explosives, why not the boxes? In that case there would be a glorious skyward journey for me and the German servants and about an acre of surrounding country. There was also the risk that the detonation102 might set off the other bricks in the cupboard, for I had forgotten most that I knew about lentonite. But it didn’t do to begin thinking about the possibilities. The odds were horrible, but I had to take them.
I ensconced myself just below the sill of the window, and lit the fuse. Then I waited for a moment or two. There was dead silence—only a shuffle103 of heavy boots in the passage, and the peaceful cluck of hens from the warm out-of-doors. I commended my soul to my Maker104, and wondered where I would be in five seconds....
A great wave of heat seemed to surge upwards from the floor, and hang for a blistering105 instant in the air. Then the wall opposite me flashed into a golden yellow and dissolved with a rending106 thunder that hammered my brain into a pulp107. Something dropped on me, catching108 the point of my left shoulder.
And then I think I became unconscious.
My stupor109 can scarcely have lasted beyond a few seconds. I felt myself being choked by thick yellow fumes110, and struggled out of the debris111 to my feet. Somewhere behind me I felt fresh air. The jambs of the window had fallen, and through the ragged112 rent the smoke was pouring out to the summer noon. I stepped over the broken lintel, and found myself standing113 in a yard in a dense114 and acrid115 fog. I felt very sick and ill, but I could move my limbs, and I staggered blindly forward away from the house.
A small mill-lade ran in a wooden aqueduct at the other side of the yard, and into this I fell. The cool water revived me, and I had just enough wits left to think of escape. I squirmed up the lade among the slippery green slime till I reached the mill-wheel. Then I wriggled116 through the axle hole into the old mill and tumbled on to a bed of chaff117. A nail caught the seat of my trousers, and I left a wisp of heather-mixture behind me.
The mill had been long out of use. The ladders were rotten with age, and in the loft118 the rats had gnawed119 great holes in the floor. Nausea120 shook me, and a wheel in my head kept turning, while my left shoulder and arm seemed to be stricken with the palsy. I looked out of the window and saw a fog still hanging over the house and smoke escaping from an upper window. Please God I had set the place on fire, for I could hear confused cries coming from the other side.
But I had no time to linger, since this mill was obviously a bad hiding-place. Anyone looking for me would naturally follow the lade, and I made certain the search would begin as soon as they found that my body was not in the storeroom. From another window I saw that on the far side of the mill stood an old stone dovecot. If I could get there without leaving tracks I might find a hiding-place, for I argued that my enemies, if they thought I could move, would conclude I had made for open country, and would go seeking me on the moor.
I crawled down the broken ladder, scattering121 chaff behind me to cover my footsteps. I did the same on the mill floor, and on the threshold where the door hung on broken hinges. Peeping out, I saw that between me and the dovecot was a piece of bare cobbled ground, where no footmarks would show. Also it was mercifully hid by the mill buildings from any view from the house. I slipped across the space, got to the back of the dovecot and prospected122 a way of ascent123.
That was one of the hardest jobs I ever took on. My shoulder and arm ached like hell, and I was so sick and giddy that I was always on the verge124 of falling. But I managed it somehow. By the use of out-jutting stones and gaps in the masonry125 and a tough ivy126 root I got to the top in the end. There was a little parapet behind which I found space to lie down. Then I proceeded to go off into an old-fashioned swoon.
I woke with a burning head and the sun glaring in my face. For a long time I lay motionless, for those horrible fumes seemed to have loosened my joints127 and dulled my brain. Sounds came to me from the house—men speaking throatily and the throbbing128 of a stationary129 car. There was a little gap in the parapet to which I wriggled, and from which I had some sort of prospect of the yard. I saw figures come out—a servant with his head bound up, and then a younger man in knickerbockers. They were looking for something, and moved towards the mill. Then one of them caught sight of the wisp of cloth on the nail, and cried out to the other. They both went back to the house, and brought two more to look at it. I saw the rotund figure of my late captor, and I thought I made out the man with the lisp. I noticed that all had pistols.
For half an hour they ransacked130 the mill. I could hear them kicking over the barrels and pulling up the rotten planking. Then they came outside, and stood just below the dovecot arguing fiercely. The servant with the bandage was being soundly rated. I heard them fiddling131 with the door of the dovecote and for one horrid moment I fancied they were coming up. Then they thought better of it, and went back to the house.
All that long blistering afternoon I lay baking on the rooftop. Thirst was my chief torment132. My tongue was like a stick, and to make it worse I could hear the cool drip of water from the mill-lade. I watched the course of the little stream as it came in from the moor, and my fancy followed it to the top of the glen, where it must issue from an icy fountain fringed with cool ferns and mosses133. I would have given a thousand pounds to plunge134 my face into that.
I had a fine prospect of the whole ring of moorland. I saw the car speed away with two occupants, and a man on a hill pony riding east. I judged they were looking for me, and I wished them joy of their quest.
But I saw something else more interesting. The house stood almost on the summit of a swell135 of moorland which crowned a sort of plateau, and there was no higher point nearer than the big hills six miles off. The actual summit, as I have mentioned, was a biggish clump136 of trees—firs mostly, with a few ashes and beeches137. On the dovecot I was almost on a level with the tree-tops, and could see what lay beyond. The wood was not solid, but only a ring, and inside was an oval of green turf, for all the world like a big cricket-field.
I didn’t take long to guess what it was. It was an aerodrome, and a secret one. The place had been most cunningly chosen. For suppose anyone were watching an aeroplane descending138 here, he would think it had gone over the hill beyond the trees. As the place was on the top of a rise in the midst of a big amphitheatre, any observer from any direction would conclude it had passed out of view behind the hill. Only a man very close at hand would realize that the aeroplane had not gone over but had descended in the midst of the wood. An observer with a telescope on one of the higher hills might have discovered the truth, but only herds went there, and herds do not carry spy-glasses. When I looked from the dovecot I could see far away a blue line which I knew was the sea, and I grew furious to think that our enemies had this secret conning-tower to rake our waterways.
Then I reflected that if that aeroplane came back the chances were ten to one that I would be discovered. So through the afternoon I lay and prayed for the coming of darkness, and glad I was when the sun went down over the big western hills and the twilight139 haze140 crept over the moor. The aeroplane was late. The gloaming was far advanced when I heard the beat of wings and saw it volplaning downward to its home in the wood. Lights twinkled for a bit and there was much coming and going from the house. Then the dark fell, and silence.
Thank God it was a black night. The moon was well on its last quarter and would not rise till late. My thirst was too great to allow me to tarry, so about nine o’clock, so far as I could judge, I started to descend33. It wasn’t easy, and half-way down I heard the back door of the house open, and saw the gleam of a lantern against the mill wall. For some agonizing141 minutes I hung by the ivy and prayed that whoever it was would not come round by the dovecot. Then the light disappeared, and I dropped as softly as I could on to the hard soil of the yard.
I crawled on my belly142 in the lee of a stone dyke till I reached the fringe of trees which surrounded the house. If I had known how to do it I would have tried to put that aeroplane out of action, but I realized that any attempt would probably be futile143. I was pretty certain that there would be some kind of defence round the house, so I went through the wood on hands and knees, feeling carefully every inch before me. It was as well, for presently I came on a wire about two feet from the ground. If I had tripped over that, it would doubtless have rung some bell in the house and I would have been captured.
A hundred yards farther on I found another wire cunningly placed on the edge of a small stream. Beyond that lay the moor, and in five minutes I was deep in bracken and heather. Soon I was round the shoulder of the rise, in the little glen from which the mill-lade flowed. Ten minutes later my face was in the spring, and I was soaking down pints144 of the blessed water.
But I did not stop till I had put half a dozen miles between me and that accursed dwelling.
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boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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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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8
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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9
lusted
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| 贪求（lust的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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10
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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11
edible
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| n.食品，食物；adj.可食用的 | |
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12
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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13
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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14
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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15
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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16
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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17
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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18
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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19
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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20
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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21
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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22
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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23
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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24
stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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25
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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26
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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27
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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28
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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29
spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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30
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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31
dyke
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| n.堤，水坝，排水沟 | |
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32
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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33
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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34
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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35
wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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36
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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37
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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38
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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39
forsook
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| forsake的过去式 | |
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40
scythe
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|
| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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41
mower
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| n.割草机 | |
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42
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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43
pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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44
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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46
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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47
gravel
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|
| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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48
implements
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|
| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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49
benevolent
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|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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50
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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51
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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52
knowledgeable
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|
| adj.知识渊博的；有见识的 | |
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53
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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54
scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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56
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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57
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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58
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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59
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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60
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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61
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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62
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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63
dreaded
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|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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64
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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65
throttle
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|
| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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66
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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67
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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68
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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69
whine
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|
| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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70
doorway
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|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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71
vaguely
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|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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72
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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73
considerably
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|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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74
luncheon
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|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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75
steadily
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|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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76
ordeal
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|
| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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77
weird
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|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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78
malignant
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|
| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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79
purely
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|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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80
mesmerized
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|
| v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
farmhouse
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|
| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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82
uneven
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|
| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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83
chilly
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|
| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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84
miserable
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|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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85
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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86
wraith
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|
| n.幽灵；骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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87
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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88
fortitude
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|
| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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89
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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90
braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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91
copper
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|
| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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93
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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94
crumbled
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|
| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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95
timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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96
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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97
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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98
decided
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|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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99
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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100
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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101
dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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102
detonation
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| n.爆炸；巨响 | |
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103
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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104
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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105
blistering
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|
| adj.酷热的；猛烈的；使起疱的；可恶的v.起水疱；起气泡；使受暴晒n.[涂料] 起泡 | |
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106
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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107
pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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108
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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109
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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110
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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111
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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112
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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113
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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114
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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115
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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116
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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117
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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118
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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119
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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120
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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121
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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122
prospected
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| vi.勘探（prospect的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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123
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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124
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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125
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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126
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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127
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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128
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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129
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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130
ransacked
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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131
fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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132
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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133
mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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134
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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135
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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136
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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137
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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138
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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139
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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140
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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141
agonizing
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| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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142
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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143
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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144
pints
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| n.品脱( pint的名词复数 )；一品脱啤酒 | |
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