So far, in the cases which I have recorded, Poirot’s investigations2 have started from the central fact, whether murder or robbery, and have proceeded from thence by a process of logical deduction3 to the final triumphant4 unravelling5. In the events I am now about to chronicle, a remarkable6 chain of circumstances led from the apparently7 trivial incidents which first attracted Poirot’s attention to the sinister8 happenings which completed a most unusual case.
I had been spending the evening with an old friend of mine, Gerald Parker. There had been, perhaps, about half a dozen people there besides my host and myself, and the talk fell, as it was bound to do sooner or later wherever Parker found himself, on the subject of house-hunting in London. Houses and flats were Parker’s special hobby. Since the end of the War, he had occupied at least half a dozen different flats and maisonnettes. No sooner was he settled anywhere than he would light unexpectedly upon a new find, and would forthwith depart bag and baggage. His moves were nearly always accomplished9 at a slight pecuniary10 gain, for he had a shrewd business head, but it was sheer love of the sport that actuated him, and not a desire to make money at it. We listened to Parker for some time with the respect of the novice11 for the expert. Then it was our turn, and a perfect babel of tongues was let loose. Finally the floor was left to Mrs. Robinson, a charming little bride who was there with her husband. I had never met them before, as Robinson was only a recent acquaintance of Parker’s.
“Talking of flats,” she said, “have you heard of our piece of luck, Mr. Parker? We’ve got a flat—at last! In Montagu Mansions12.”
“Well,” said Parker, “I’ve always said there are plenty of flats—at a price!”
“Yes, but this isn’t at a price. It’s dirt cheap. Eighty pounds a year!”
“But—but Montagu Mansions is just off Knightsbridge, isn’t it? Big handsome building. Or are you talking of a poor relation of the same name stuck in the slums somewhere?”
“No, it’s the Knightsbridge one. That’s what makes it so wonderful.”
“Wonderful is the word! It’s a blinking miracle. But there must be a catch somewhere. Big premium13, I suppose?”
“No premium!”
“No prem—oh, hold my head, somebody!” groaned14 Parker.
“But we’ve got to buy the furniture,” continued Mrs. Robinson.
“Ah!” Parker brisked up. “I knew there was a catch!”
“For fifty pounds. And it’s beautifully furnished!”
“I give it up,” said Parker. “The present occupants must be lunatics with a taste for philanthropy.”
Mrs. Robinson was looking a little troubled. A little pucker15 appeared between her dainty brows.
“It is queer, isn’t it? You don’t think that—that—the place is haunted?”
“Never heard of a haunted flat,” declared Parker decisively.
“N-o.” Mrs. Robinson appeared far from convinced. “But there were several things about it all that struck me as—well, queer.”
“For instance——” I suggested.
“Ah,” said Parker, “our criminal expert’s attention is aroused! Unburden yourself to him, Mrs. Robinson. Hastings is a great unraveller of mysteries.”
I laughed, embarrassed but not wholly displeased16 with the rôle thrust upon me.
“Oh, not really queer, Captain Hastings, but when we went to the agents, Stosser and Paul—we hadn’t tried them before because they only have the expensive Mayfair flats, but we thought at any rate it would do no harm—everything they offered us was four and five hundred a year, or else huge premiums17, and then, just as we were going, they mentioned that they had a flat at eighty, but that they doubted if it would be any good our going there, because it had been on their books some time and they had sent so many people to see it that it was almost sure to be taken—‘snapped up’ as the clerk put it—only people were so tiresome18 in not letting them know, and then they went on sending, and people get annoyed at being sent to a place that had, perhaps, been let some time.” Mrs. Robinson paused for some much needed breath, and then continued:
“We thanked him, and said that we quite understood it would probably be no good, but that we should like an order all the same—just in case. And we went there straight away in a taxi, for, after all, you never know. No. 4 was on the second floor, and just as we were waiting for the lift, Elsie Ferguson—she’s a friend of mine, Captain Hastings, and they are looking for a flat too—came hurrying down the stairs. ‘Ahead of you for once, my dear,’ she said. ‘But it’s no good. It’s already let.’ That seemed to finish it, but—well, as John said, the place was very cheap, we could afford to give more, and perhaps if we offered a premium.——A horrid19 thing to do, of course, and I feel quite ashamed of telling you, but you know what flat-hunting is.”
I assured her that I was well aware that in the struggle for house-room the baser side of human nature frequently triumphed over the higher, and that the well-known rule of dog eat dog always applied20.
“So we went up and, would you believe it, the flat wasn’t let at all. We were shown over it by the maid, and then we saw the mistress, and the thing was settled then and there. Immediate22 possession and fifty pounds for the furniture. We signed the agreement next day, and we are to move in to-morrow!” Mrs. Robinson paused triumphantly23.
“And what about Mrs. Ferguson?” asked Parker. “Let’s have your deductions24, Hastings.”
“‘Obvious, my dear Watson,’” I quoted lightly. “She went to the wrong flat.”
“Oh, Captain Hastings, how clever of you!” cried Mrs. Robinson admiringly.
I rather wished Poirot had been there. Sometimes I have the feeling that he rather underestimates my capabilities25.
• • • • • • •
The whole thing was rather amusing, and I propounded26 the thing as a mock problem to Poirot on the following morning. He seemed interested, and questioned me rather narrowly as to the rents of flats in various localities.
“A curious story,” he said thoughtfully. “Excuse me, Hastings, I must take a short stroll.”
When he returned, about an hour later, his eyes were gleaming with a peculiar27 excitement. He laid his stick on the table, and brushed the nap of his hat with his usual tender care before he spoke28.
“It is as well, mon ami, that we have no affairs of moment on hand. We can devote ourselves wholly to the present investigation1.”
“What investigation are you talking about?”
“The remarkable cheapness of your friend’s, Mrs. Robinson’s, new flat.”
“Poirot, you are not serious!”
“I am most serious. Figure to yourself, my friend, that the real rent of those flats is £350. I have just ascertained29 that from the landlord’s agents. And yet this particular flat is being sublet30 at eighty pounds! Why?”
“There must be something wrong with it. Perhaps it is haunted, as Mrs. Robinson suggested.”
Poirot shook his head in a dissatisfied manner.
“Then again how curious it is that her friend tells her the flat is let, and, when she goes up, behold31, it is not so at all!”
“But surely you agree with me that the other woman must have gone to the wrong flat. That is the only possible solution.”
“You may or may not be right on that point, Hastings. The fact still remains32 that numerous other applicants33 were, sent to see it, and yet, in spite of its remarkable cheapness, it was still in the market when Mrs. Robinson arrived.”
“That shows that there must be something wrong about it.”
“Mrs. Robinson did not seem to notice anything amiss. Very curious, is it not? Did she impress you as being a truthful34 woman, Hastings?”
“She was a delightful35 creature!”
“Évidemment! since she renders you incapable36 of replying to my question. Describe her to me, then.”
“Well, she’s tall and fair; her hair’s really a beautiful shade of auburn——”
“Always you have had a penchant37 for auburn hair!” murmured Poirot. “But continue.”
“Blue eyes and a very nice complexion38 and—well, that’s all, I think,” I concluded lamely39.
“And her husband?”
“Oh, he’s quite a nice fellow—nothing startling.”
“Dark or fair?”
“I don’t know—betwixt and between, and just an ordinary sort of face.”
Poirot nodded.
“Yes, there are hundreds of these average men—and, anyway, you bring more sympathy and appreciation40 to your description of women. Do you know anything about these people? Does Parker know them well.”
“They are just recent acquaintances, I believe. But surely, Poirot, you don’t think for an instant——”
Poirot raised his hand.
“Tout doucement, mon ami. Have I said that I think anything? All I say is—it is a curious story. And there is nothing to throw light upon it; except perhaps the lady’s name, eh, Hastings?”
“Her name is Stella,” I said stiffly, “but I don’t see——”
Poirot interrupted me with a tremendous chuckle41. Something seemed to be amusing him vastly.
“And Stella means a star, does it not? Famous!”
“What on earth——”
“And stars give light! Voilà! Calm yourself, Hastings. Do not put on that air of injured dignity. Come, we will go to Montagu Mansions and make a few inquiries42.”
I accompanied him, nothing loath43. The Mansions were a handsome block of buildings in excellent repair. A uniformed porter was sunning himself on the threshold, and it was to him that Poirot addressed himself:
“Pardon, but could you tell me if a Mr. and Mrs. Robinson reside here?”
The porter was a man of few words and apparently of a sour or suspicious disposition44. He hardly looked at us and grunted46 out:
“No. 4. Second floor.”
“I thank you. Can you tell me how long they have been here?”
“Six months.”
I started forward in amazement47, conscious as I did so of Poirot’s malicious48 grin.
“Impossible,” I cried. “You must be making a mistake.”
“Six months.”
“Are you sure? The lady I mean is tall and fair with reddish gold hair and——”
“That’s ’er,” said the porter. “Come in the Michaelmas quarter, they did. Just six months ago.”
He appeared to lose interest in us and retreated slowly up the hall. I followed Poirot outside.
“Eh bien, Hastings?” my friend demanded slyly. “Are you so sure now that delightful women always speak the truth?”
I did not reply.
Poirot had steered49 his way into Brompton Road before I asked him what he was going to do and where we were going.
“To the house agents, Hastings. I have a great desire to have a flat in Montagu Mansions. If I am not mistaken, several interesting things will take place there before long.”
We were fortunate in our quest. No. 8, on the fourth floor, was to be let furnished at ten guineas a week. Poirot promptly50 took it for a month. Outside in the street again, he silenced my protests:
“But I make money nowadays! Why should I not indulge a whim51? By the way, Hastings, have you a revolver?”
“Yes—somewhere,” I answered, slightly thrilled. “Do you think——”
“That you will need it? It is quite possible. The idea pleases you, I see. Always the spectacular and romantic appeals to you.”
The following day saw us installed in our temporary home. The flat was pleasantly furnished. It occupied the same position in the building as that of the Robinsons, but was two floors higher.
The day after our installation was a Sunday. In the afternoon, Poirot left the front door ajar, and summoned me hastily as a bang reverberated52 from somewhere below.
“Look over the banisters. Are those your friends. Do not let them see you.”
I craned my neck over the staircase.
“That’s them,” I declared in an ungrammatical whisper.
“Good. Wait awhile.”
About half an hour later, a young woman emerged in brilliant and varied53 clothing. With a sigh of satisfaction, Poirot tiptoed back into the flat.
“C’est ça. After the master and mistress, the maid. The flat should now be empty.”
“What are we going to do?” I asked uneasily.
Poirot had trotted54 briskly into the scullery and was hauling at the rope of the coal-lift.
“We are about to descend55 after the method of the dustbins,” he explained cheerfully. “No one will observe us. The Sunday concert, the Sunday ‘afternoon out,’ and finally the Sunday nap after the Sunday dinner of England—le rosbif—all these will distract attention from the doings of Hercule Poirot. Come, my friend.”
He stepped into the rough wooden contrivance and I followed him gingerly.
“Are we going to break into the flat?” I asked dubiously56.
Poirot’s answer was not too reassuring57:
“Not precisely58 to-day,” he replied.
Pulling on the rope, we descended59 slowly till we reached the second floor. Poirot uttered an exclamation60 of satisfaction as he perceived that the wooden door into the scullery was open.
“You observe? Never do they bolt these doors in the daytime. And yet anyone could mount or descend as we have done. At night yes—though not always then—and it is against that that we are going to make provision.”
He had drawn61 some tools from his pocket as he spoke, and at once set deftly62 to work, his object being to arrange the bolt so that it could be pulled back from the lift. The operation only occupied about three minutes. Then Poirot returned the tools to his pocket, and we reascended once more to our own domain63.
• • • • • • •
On Monday Poirot was out all day, but when he returned in the evening he flung himself into his chair with a sigh of satisfaction.
“Hastings, shall I recount to you a little history? A story after your own heart and which will remind you of your favourite cinema?”
“Go ahead,” I laughed. “I presume that it is a true story, not one of your efforts of fancy.”
“It is true enough. Inspector64 Japp of Scotland Yard will vouch65 for its accuracy, since it was through his kind offices that it came to my ears. Listen, Hastings. A little over six months ago some important Naval66 plans were stolen from an American Government department. They showed the position of some of the most important Harbour defences, and would be worth a considerable sum to any foreign Government—that of Japan, for example. Suspicion fell upon a young man named Luigi Valdarno, an Italian by birth, who was employed in a minor67 capacity in the Department and who was missing at the same time as the papers. Whether Luigi Valdarno was the thief or not, he was found two days later on the East Side in New York, shot dead. The papers were not on him. Now for some time past Luigi Valdarno had been going about with a Miss Elsa Hardt, a young concert singer who had recently appeared and who lived with a brother in an apartment in Washington. Nothing was known of the antecedents of Miss Elsa Hardt, and she disappeared suddenly about the time of Valdarno’s death. There are reasons for believing that she was in reality an accomplished international spy who has done much nefarious68 work under various aliases69. The American Secret Service, whilst doing their best to trace her, also kept an eye upon certain insignificant70 Japanese gentlemen living in Washington. They felt pretty certain that, when Elsa Hardt had covered her tracks sufficiently71, she would approach the gentlemen in question. One of them left suddenly for England a fortnight ago. On the face of it, therefore, it would seem that Elsa Hardt is in England.” Poirot paused, and then added softly: “The official description of Elsa Hardt is: Height 5 ft. 7, eyes blue, hair auburn, fair complexion, nose straight, no special distinguishing marks.”
“Mrs. Robinson!” I gasped72.
“Well, there is a chance of it, anyhow,” amended73 Poirot. “Also, I learn that a swarthy man, a foreigner of some kind, was inquiring about the occupants of No. 4 only this morning. Therefore, mon ami, I fear that you must forswear your beauty sleep to-night, and join me in my all-night vigil in the flat below—armed with that excellent revolver of yours, bien entendu!”
“Rather,” I cried with enthusiasm. “When shall we start?”
“The hour of midnight is both solemn and suitable, I fancy. Nothing is likely to occur before then.”
At twelve o’clock precisely, we crept cautiously into the coal-lift and lowered ourselves to the second floor. Under Poirot’s manipulation, the wooden door quickly swung inwards, and we climbed into the flat. From the scullery we passed into the kitchen where we established ourselves comfortably in two chairs with the door into the hall ajar.
“Now we have but to wait,” said Poirot contentedly74, closing his eyes.
To me, the waiting appeared endless. I was terrified of going to sleep. Just when it seemed to me that I had been there about eight hours—and had, as I found out afterwards, in reality been exactly one hour and twenty minutes—a faint scratching sound came to my ears. Poirot’s hand touched mine. I rose, and together we moved carefully in the direction of the hall. The noise came from there. Poirot placed his lips to my ear.
“Outside the front door. They are cutting out the lock. When I give the word, not before, fall upon him from behind and hold him fast. Be careful, he will have a knife.”
Presently there was a rending75 sound, and a little circle of light appeared through the door. It was extinguished immediately and then the door was slowly opened. Poirot and I flattened76 ourselves against the wall. I heard a man’s breathing as he passed us. Then he flashed on his torch, and as he did so, Poirot hissed77 in my ear:
“Allez.”
We sprang together, Poirot with a quick movement enveloped78 the intruder’s head with a light woollen scarf whilst I pinioned79 his arms. The whole affair was quick and noiseless. I twisted a dagger80 from his hand, and as Poirot brought down the scarf from his eyes, whilst keeping it wound tightly round his mouth, I jerked up my revolver where he could see it and understand that resistance was useless. As he ceased to struggle Poirot put his mouth close to his ear and began to whisper rapidly. After a minute the man nodded. Then enjoining81 silence with a movement of the hand, Poirot led the way out of the flat and down the stairs. Our captive followed, and I brought up the rear with the revolver. When we were out in the street, Poirot turned to me.
“There is a taxi waiting just round the corner. Give me the revolver. We shall not need it now.”
“But if this fellow tries to escape?”
Poirot smiled.
“He will not.”
I returned in a minute with the waiting taxi. The scarf had been unwound from the stranger’s face, and I gave a start of surprise.
“He’s not a Jap,” I ejaculated in a whisper to Poirot.
“Observation was always your strong point, Hastings! Nothing escapes you. No, the man is not a Jap. He is an Italian.”
We got into the taxi, and Poirot gave the driver an address in St. John’s Wood. I was by now completely fogged. I did not like to ask Poirot where we were going in front of our captive, and strove in vain to obtain some light upon the proceedings82.
We alighted at the door of a small house standing83 back from the road. A returning wayfarer84, slightly drunk, was lurching along the pavement and almost collided with Poirot, who said something sharply to him which I did not catch. All three of us went up the steps of the house. Poirot rang the bell and motioned us to stand a little aside. There was no answer and he rang again and then seized the knocker which he plied21 for some minutes vigorously.
A light appeared suddenly above the fanlight, and the door was opened cautiously a little way.
“What the devil do you want?” a man’s voice demanded harshly.
“I want the doctor. My wife is taken ill.”
“There’s no doctor here.”
The man prepared to shut the door, but Poirot thrust his foot in adroitly85. He became suddenly a perfect caricature of an infuriated Frenchman.
“What you say, there is no doctor? I will have the law of you. You must come! I will stay here and ring and knock all night.”
“My dear sir——” The door was opened again, the man, clad in a dressing-gown and slippers86, stepped forward to pacify87 Poirot with an uneasy glance round.
“I will call the police.”
Poirot prepared to descend the steps.
“No, don’t do that for Heaven’s sake!” The man dashed after him.
With a neat push Poirot sent him staggering down the steps. In another minute all three of us were inside the door and it was pushed to and bolted.
“Quick—in here.” Poirot led the way into the nearest room switching on the light as he did so. “And you—behind the curtain.”
“Si, signor,” said the Italian and slid rapidly behind the full folds of rose-coloured velvet88 which draped the embrasure of the window.
Not a minute too soon. Just as he disappeared from view a woman rushed into the room. She was tall with reddish hair and held a scarlet89 kimono round her slender form.
“Where is my husband?” she cried, with a quick frightened glance. “Who are you?”
Poirot stepped forward with a bow.
“It is to be hoped your husband will not suffer from a chill. I observed that he had slippers on his feet, and that his dressing-gown was a warm one.”
“Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”
“It is true that none of us have the pleasure of your acquaintance, madame. It is especially to be regretted as one of our number has come specially90 from New York in order to meet you.”
The curtains parted and the Italian stepped out. To my horror I observed that he was brandishing91 my revolver, which Poirot must doubtless have put down through inadvertence in the cab.
The woman gave a piercing scream and turned to fly, but Poirot was standing in front of the closed door.
“Let me by,” she shrieked92. “He will murder me.”
“Who was it dat croaked93 Luigi Valdarno?” asked the Italian hoarsely94, brandishing the weapon, and sweeping95 each one of us with it. We dared not move.
“My God, Poirot, this is awful. What shall we do?” I cried.
“You will oblige me by refraining from talking so much, Hastings. I can assure you that our friend will not shoot until I give the word.”
“Youse sure o’ dat, eh?” said the Italian, leering unpleasantly.
It was more than I was, but the woman turned to Poirot like a flash.
“What is it you want?”
Poirot bowed.
“I do not think it is necessary to insult Miss Elsa Hardt’s intelligence by telling her.”
With a swift movement, the woman snatched up a big black velvet cat which served as a cover for the telephone.
“They are stitched in the lining96 of that.”
“Clever,” murmured Poirot appreciatively. He stood aside from the door. “Good evening, madame. I will detain your friend from New York whilst you make your getaway.”
“Whatta fool!” roared the big Italian, and raising the revolver he fired point-blank at the woman’s retreating figure just as I flung myself upon him.
But the weapon merely clicked harmlessly and Poirot’s voice rose in mild reproof98.
“Never will you trust your old friend, Hastings. I do not care for my friends to carry loaded pistols about with them and never would I permit a mere97 acquaintance to do so. No, no, mon ami.” This to the Italian who swearing hoarsely. Poirot continued to address him in a tone of mild reproof: “See now, what I have done for you. I have saved you from being hanged. And do not think that our beautiful lady will escape. No, no, the house is watched, back and front. Straight into the arms of the police they will go. Is not that a beautiful and consoling thought? Yes, you may leave the room now. But be careful—be very careful. I——Ah, he is gone! And my friend Hastings looks at me with eyes of reproach. But it was all so simple! It was clear, from the first, that out of several hundred, probably, applicants for No. 4, Montagu Mansions only the Robinsons were considered suitable. Why? What was there that singled them out from the rest—at practically a glance. Their appearance? Possibly, but it was not so unusual. Their name, then!”
“But there’s nothing unusual about the name of Robinson,” I cried. “It’s quite a common name.”
“Ah! Sapristi, but exactly! That was the point. Elsa Hardt and her husband, or brother or whatever he really is, come from New York, and take a flat in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Robinson. Suddenly they learn that one of these secret societies, the Mafia, or the Camorra, to which doubtless Luigi Valdarno belonged, is on their track. What do they do? They hit on a scheme of transparent99 simplicity100. Evidently they knew that their pursuers were not personally acquainted with either of them. What then can be simpler? They offer the flat at an absurdly low rental101. Of the thousands of young couples in London looking for flats, there cannot fail to be several Robinsons. It is only a matter of waiting. If you will look at the name of Robinson in the telephone directory, you will realize that a fair-haired Mrs. Robinson was pretty sure to come along sooner or later. Then what will happen? The avenger102 arrives. He knows the name, he knows the address. He strikes! All is over, vengeance103 is satisfied, and Miss Elsa Hardt has escaped by the skin of her teeth once more. By the way, Hastings, you must present me to the real Mrs. Robinson—that delightful and truthful creature! What will they think when they find their flat has been broken into! We must hurry back. Ah, that sounds like Japp and his friends arriving.”
A mighty104 tattoo105 sounded on the knocker.
“How did you know this address?” I asked as I followed Poirot out into the hall. “Oh, of course, you had the first Mrs. Robinson followed when she left the other flat.”
“A la bonne heure, Hastings. You use your grey cells at last. Now for a little surprise for Japp.”
Softly unbolting the door, he stuck the cat’s head round the edge and ejaculated a piercing “Miaow.”
The Scotland Yard inspector, who was standing outside with another man, jumped in spite of himself.
“Oh, it’s only Monsieur Poirot at one of his little jokes!” he exclaimed, as Poirot’s head followed that of the cat. “Let us in, moosior.”
“You have our friends safe and sound?”
“Yes, we’ve got the birds all right. But they hadn’t got the goods with them.”
“I see. So you come to search. Well, I am about to depart with Hastings, but I should like to give you a little lecture upon the history and habits of the domestic cat.”
“For the Lord’s sake, have you gone completely balmy?”
“The cat,” declaimed Poirot, “was worshipped by the ancient Egyptians. It is still regarded as a symbol of good luck if a black cat crosses your path. This cat crossed your path to-night, Japp. To speak of the interior of any animal or any person is not, I know, considered polite in England. But the interior of this cat is perfectly106 delicate. I refer to the lining.”
With a sudden grunt45, the second man seized the cat from Poirot’s hand.
“Oh, I forgot to introduce you,” said Japp. “Mr. Poirot, this is Mr. Burt of the United States Secret Service.”
The American’s trained fingers had felt what he was looking for. He held out his hand, and for a moment speech failed him. Then he rose to the occasion.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Mr. Burt.
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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unravelling
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| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的现在分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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premium
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| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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pucker
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| v.撅起，使起皱；n.（衣服上的）皱纹，褶子 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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premiums
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| n.费用( premium的名词复数 )；保险费；额外费用；（商品定价、贷款利息等以外的）加价 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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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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applied
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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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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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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deductions
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| 扣除( deduction的名词复数 )； 结论； 扣除的量； 推演 | |
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capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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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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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sublet
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| v.转租；分租 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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applicants
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| 申请人，求职人( applicant的名词复数 ) | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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penchant
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| n.爱好，嗜好；（强烈的）倾向 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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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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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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reverberated
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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vouch
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| v.担保；断定；n.被担保者 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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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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nefarious
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| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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aliases
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| n.别名，化名( alias的名词复数 ) | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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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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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pinioned
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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enjoining
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| v.命令( enjoin的现在分词 ) | |
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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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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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wayfarer
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| n.旅人 | |
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85
adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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87
pacify
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| vt.使(某人)平静(或息怒)；抚慰 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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103
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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105
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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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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