Ammon stood at the bar and listened complacently4 to his sentence of not less than four years at hard labor5 in Sing Sing. A sneer6 curved his lips as, after nodding curtly7 to his lawyer, he turned to be led away by the court attendant. The fortune snatched from his client had procured9 for him the most adroit10 of counsel, the most exhaustive of trials. He knew that nothing had been left undone11 to enable him to evade12 the consequences of his crime, and he was cynically13 content.
For years "Bob" Ammon had been a familiar figure in the Wall Street district of New York. Although the legal adviser of swindlers and confidence men, he was a type of American whose energies, if turned in a less dubious14 direction, might well have brought him honorable distinction. Tall, strong as a bull, bluff15, good-natured, reckless and of iron nerve, he would have given good account of himself as an Indian fighter or frontiersman. His fine presence, his great vitality16, his coarse humor, his confidence and bravado17, had won for him many friends of a certain kind and engendered18 a feeling among the public that somehow, although the associate and adviser of criminals, he was outside the law, to the circumventing19 of which his energies were directed. Unfortunately his experiences with the law had bred in him a contempt for it which ultimately caused his downfall.
"The reporters arc bothering you, are they?" he had said to Miller in his office. "Hang them! Send them to me. I'll talk to them!"
And talk to them he did. He could talk a police inspector20 or a city magistrate21 into a state of vacuous22 credulity, and needless to say he was to his clients as a god knowing both good and evil, as well as how to eschew23 the one and avoid the other. Miller hated, loathed24 and feared him, yet freely entrusted25 his liberty, and all he had risked his liberty to gain, to this strange and powerful personality which held him enthralled26 by the mere27 exercise of a physical superiority.
The "Franklin Syndicate" had collapsed28 amid the astonished outcries of its thousands of victims, on November 24th, 1899, when, under the advice and with the assistance of Ammon, its organizer, "520 per cent. Miller," had fled to Canada. It was nearly four years later, in June, 1903, that Ammon, arraigned29 at the bar of justice as a criminal, heard Assistant District Attorney Nott call William F. Miller, convict, to the stand to testify against him. A curious contrast they presented as they faced one another; the emaciated30 youth of twenty-five, the hand of Death already tightly fastened upon his meagre frame, coughing, hollow-cheeked, insignificant31, flat-nosed, almost repulsive32, who dragged himself to the witness chair, and the swaggering athlete who glared at him from the bar surrounded by his cordon33 of able counsel. As Ammon fixed34 his penetrating35 gaze upon his former client, Miller turned pale and dropped his eyes. Then the prosecutor36, realizing the danger of letting the old hypnotic power return, even for an instant, quickly stepped between them. Miller raised his eyes and smiled, and those who heard knew that this miserable37 creature had been through the fire and come forth38 to speak true things.
The trial of Ammon involved practically the reproving of the case against Miller, for which the latter had been convicted and sentenced to ten years in State's prison, whence he now issued like one from the tomb to point the skeleton, incriminating finger at his betrayer. But the case began by the convict-witness testifying that the whole business was a miserable fraud from start to finish, carried on and guided by the advice of the defendant39. He told how he, a mere boy of twenty-one, burdened with a sick wife and baby, unfitted by training or ability for any sort of lucrative40 employment, a hanger-on of bucket shops and, in his palmiest days, a speculator in tiny lots of feebly margined42 stocks, finding himself without means of support, conceived the alluring43 idea of soliciting44 funds for investment, promising45 enormous interest, and paying this interest out of the principal intrusted to him. For a time he preyed46 only upon his friends, claiming "inside information" of large "deals" and paying ten per cent. per week on the money received out of his latest deposits.
Surely the history of civilization is a history of credulity. Miller prospered47. His earlier friend-customers who had hesitatingly taken his receipt for ten dollars, and thereafter had received one dollar every Monday morning, repeated the operation and returned in ever-increasing numbers. From having his office "in his hat," he took an upper room in a small two-story house at 144 Floyd Street, Brooklyn—an humble48 tenement49, destined50 to be the scene of one of the most extraordinary exhibitions of man's cupidity51 and foolishness in modern times. At first he had tramped round, like a pedler, delivering the dividends52 himself and soliciting more, but soon he hired a boy. This was in February, 1899. Business increased. The golden flood began to appear in an attenuated53 but constant rivulet54. He hired four more employees and the whole top floor of the house. The golden rivulet became a steady stream. From a "panhandler" he rolled in ready thousands. The future opened into magnificent auriferous distances. He began to call himself "The Franklin Syndicate," and to advertise that "the way to wealth is as plain as the road to the market." He copied the real brokers55 and scattered56 circulars and "weekly letters" over the country, exciting the rural mind in distant Manitoba and Louisiana.
There was an instantaneous response. His mail required the exclusive attention of several clerks. The stream of gold became a rushing torrent57. Every Monday morning the Floyd Street house was crowded with depositors who drew their interest, added to it, deposited it again, and went upon their way rejoicing. Nobody was going to have to work any more. The out-of-town customers received checks for their interest drawn58 upon "The Franklin Syndicate," together with printed receipts for their deposits, all signed "William F. Miller," by means of a rubber stamp. No human hand could have signed them all without writer's cramp60. The rubber stamp was Miller's official signature. Then with a mighty61 roar the torrent burst into a deluge62. The Floyd Street quarters were besieged63 by a clamoring multitude fighting to see which of them could give up his money first, and there had to be a special delivery for Miller's mail. He rented the whole house and hired fifty clerks. You could deposit your money almost anywhere, from the parlor64 to the pantry, the clothes closet or the bath-room. Fridays the public stormed the house en masse, since the money must be deposited on that day to draw interest for the following week. The crush was so enormous that the stoop broke down. Imagine it! In quiet Brooklyn! People struggling to get up the steps to cram59 their money into Miller's pockets! There he sat, behind a desk, at the top of the stoop, solemnly taking the money thrown down before him and handing out little pink and green stamped receipts in exchange. There was no place to put the money, so it was shoved on to the floor behind him. Friday afternoons Miller and his clerks waded65 through it, knee high. There was no pretense66 of bookkeeping. Simply in self-defense Miller issued in October a pronunciamento that he could not in justice to his business, consent to receive less than fifty dollars at one time. Theoretically, there was no reason why the thing should not have gone on practically forever, Miller and everybody else becoming richer and richer. So long as the golden stream swelled67 five times each year everybody would be happy. How could anybody fail to be happy who saw so much money lying around loose everywhere?
One of Miller's Franklin Syndicate Receipts.
One of Miller's Franklin Syndicate Receipts.
But the business had increased to such an extent that Miller began to distrust his own capacity to handle it. He therefore secured a partner in the person of one Edward Schlessinger, and with him went to Charlestown, Mass., for the purpose of opening another office, in charge of which they placed a man named Louis Powers. History repeated itself. Powers shipped the deposits to Miller every day or two by express. Was there ever such a plethora69 of easy money?
But Schlessinger was no Miller. He decided70 that he must have a third of the profits (Heaven knows how they computed71 them!) and have them, moreover, each day in cash. Hence there was a daily accounting72, part of the receipts being laid aside to pay off interest checks and interest, and the balance divided. Schlessinger carried his off in a bag; Miller took the rest, cash, money orders and checks, and deposited it in a real bank. How the money poured in may be realized from the fact that the excess of receipts over disbursements for the month ending November 16th was four hundred and thirty thousand dollars.
Hitherto Miller had been the central figure. Col. Robert A. Ammon now became the deus ex machina. Miller's advertising73 had become so extensive that he had been forced to retain a professional agent, one Rudolph Guenther, to supervise it, and when the newspapers began to make unpleasant comments, Guenther took Miller to Ammon's office in the Bennett Building in Nassau Street. Ammon accepted a hundred dollars from Miller, listened to his account of the business and examined copies of the circulars. When he was handed one of the printed receipts he said they were "incriminating." Miller must try to get them back. He advised (as many another learned counsellor has done) incorporating the business, since by this means stock could be sold and exchanged for the incriminating receipts. He explained the mistakes of the "Dean crowd," but showed how he had been able to safeguard them in spite of the fact that they had foolishly insisted on holding the stock in their company themselves instead of making their customers the stockholders. Nevertheless "you do not see any of the Dean people in jail," boasted Ammon. From now on Miller and he were in frequent consultation74, and Ammon took steps to incorporate, procuring75 for that purpose from Wells, Fargo & Co. a certificate of deposit for one hundred thousand dollars. Occasionally he would visit Floyd Street to see how things were going. Miller became a mere puppet; Ammon twitched76 the wire.
It was now well on in November, and the press of both Boston and New York was filled with scathing77 attacks upon the Syndicate. The reporters became so inquisitive78 as to be annoying to the peaceful Miller. "Send the reporters over to me!" directed Ammon.
The Post (of Boston) said the whole thing was a miserable swindle. Ammon, accompanied by Miller, carrying a satchel79 which contained fifty thousand dollars in greenbacks, went to Boston, visited the offices of the Post, and pitched into the editor.
"The business is all right; you must give us a fair deal!"
"You keep your mouth shut," said Ammon to Miller. "I'll do all the talking." He showed Watts the bag of money, and demanded what he had meant by calling the enterprise a "green goods business." If the thing wasn't all right, did Watts suppose that he, Col. Robert A. Ammon, would be connected with it? The chief backed down, and explained that he had jokingly referred to the color of one of the receipts—which happened to be green.
In spite of Ammon's confidence, however, there was an uneasy feeling in the air, and it was decided to put an advertisement in the Post offering to allow any customer who so desired to withdraw his deposit, without notice, upon the following Saturday. This announcement did not have precisely81 the anticipated effect, and Saturday saw a large crowd of victims eager to withdraw their money from the Boston office of the Franklin Syndicate. Powers paid the "Pauls," of Boston, out of the bag brought on by Miller containing the deposits of the "Peters," of Brooklyn. Meantime, Ammon addressed the throng82, incidentally blackguarding a Post reporter before the crowd, telling them that his paper was a "yellow paper, had never amounted to anything, and never would." Some timid souls took courage and redeposited their money. The run continued one day and cost Ammon and Miller about twenty-eight thousand dollars. Ammon took five thousand dollars cash as a fee out of the bag, and the pair returned to New York. But confidence had been temporarily restored.
The beginning of the end, however, was now in sight—at least for the keen vision of Bob Ammon. He advised stimulating83 deposits and laying hands on all the money possible before the crash came. Accordingly Miller sent a telegram (collect) to all depositors:
We have inside information of a big transaction, to begin Saturday or Monday morning. Big profits. Remit84 at once so as to receive the profits.
WILLIAM F. MILLER,
Franklin Syndicate.
A thousand or so were returned, the depositors having refused to pay the charges. The rest of the customers in large measure responded. But the game was nearly up. There were scare-heads in the papers. Miller saw detectives on every corner, and, like a rat leaving a sinking ship, Schlessinger scuttled85 away for the last time with a bag of money on the evening of Tuesday, November 21st, 1899. The rest of the deposits were crammed86 into Miller's desk and left there over night.
The next morning Miller returned to Floyd Street and spent that day in the usual routine, and also on Thursday remained until about twelve o'clock noon, when he placed thirty thousand five hundred dollars in bills in a satchel and started for Ammon's office, where he found Schlessinger—likewise with a satchel.
"The jig's up," announced Schlessinger.
"Billy, I think you'll have to make a run for it," said Ammon. "The best thing for you is to go to Canada."
It still remained to secure the money, which Miller had deposited in the banks, in such a way that the customers could not get hold of it. Ammon explained how that could easily be done. The money should be all turned over to him, and none of the creditors87 would ever see it again. He did not deem it necessary to suggest that neither would Miller. Accordingly the two, the lawyer and the client, went to the office of Wells, Fargo & Co., Ammon obligingly carrying the satchel containing the thirty thousand five hundred dollars. Here Ammon deposited the contents to his own account, as well as the certificate of deposit for one hundred thousand dollars previously88 mentioned, and a check for ten thousand dollars, representing the balance of Miller's loot. In addition to this he received an order for forty thousand dollars United States Government bonds, which were on deposit with Wells, Fargo & Co., and later, through Miller's father, sixty-five thousand dollars in bonds of the New York Central Railroad and the United States Government. Thus Ammon secured from his dupe the sum of two hundred and forty-five thousand five hundred dollars, the actual market value of the securities bringing the amount up to two hundred and fifty thousand five hundred dollars, besides whatever sums he had been paid by Miller for legal services, which could not have been less than ten or fifteen thousand dollars. The character of the gentleman is well illustrated89 by the fact that later when paying Mrs. Miller her miserable pittance90 of five dollars per week, he explained to her that "he was giving her that out of his own money, and that her husband owed him."
Ammon's deposit slips and a receipt signed by Mrs. Ammon.
Ammon's deposit slips and a receipt signed by Mrs. Ammon.
There still remained, however, the chance of getting a few dollars more and Ammon advised Miller "to try to get Friday's receipts, which were the heaviest day's business." Acting91 on this suggestion, Miller returned to Floyd Street the next morning at about half past nine, finding a great crowd of people waiting outside. About one o'clock he started to go home, but discovering that he was being followed by a man whom he took to be a detective, he boarded a street car, dodged92 through a drug store and a Chinese laundry, finally made the elevated railroad, with his pursuer at his heels, and eventually reached the lawyer's office about two o'clock in the afternoon. Word was received almost immediately over the telephone that Miller had been indicted93 in Kings County for conspiracy94 to defraud95, and Ammon stated that the one thing for Miller to do was to go away. Miller replied that he did not want to go unless he could take his wife and baby with him, but Ammon assured him that he would send them to Canada later in charge of his own wife. Under this promise Miller agreed to go, and Ammon procured a man named Enright to take Miller to Canada, saying that "he was an ex-detective and could get him out of the way." Ammon further promised to forward to Miller whatever money he might need to retain lawyers for him in Montreal. Thereupon Miller exchanged hats with some one in Ammon's office and started for Canada in the custody96 of the lawyer's representative.
How the wily colonel must have chuckled97 as poor Miller trotted98 down the stairs like a sheep leaving his fleece behind him. A golden fleece indeed! Did ever a lawyer have such a piece of luck? Here was a little fellow who had invented a brilliant scheme to get away with other people's money and had carried it through successfully—more than successfully, beyond the dreams of even the most avaricious99 criminal, and then, richer than Midas, had handed over the whole jolly fortune to another for the other's asking, without even taking a scrap100 of paper to show for it. More than that, he had then voluntarily extinguished himself. Had Ammon not chuckled he would not have been Bob Ammon. The money was stolen, to be sure, but Ammon's skirts were clear. There was nothing to show that the two hundred and forty-five thousand dollars he had received was stolen money. There was only one man—a discredited101 felon102, who could hint that the money was even "tainted," and he was safely over the border, in a foreign jurisdiction103, not in the custody of the police, but of Ammon himself, to be kept there (as Mr. Robert C. Taylor so aptly phrased it in arguing Ammon's case on appeal) "on waiting orders. Ammon had Miller on a string, and as soon as Ammon (for his own sake) was compelled either to produce Miller or to run the risk of indictment104, he pulled the string and brought Miller back into the jurisdiction."
Needless to say great was the ado made over the disappearance105 of the promoter of the Franklin Syndicate, and the authorities of King's County speedily let it become known that justice required that some one should be punished for the colossal106 fraud which had been perpetrated. The grand jury of the county started a general investigation107. Public indignation was stirred to the point of ebullition. In the midst of the rumpus, there came a knock on the office door of the Hon. John F. Clark, District Attorney of King's County, and Col. Robert A. Ammon announced himself. The two men were entire strangers to each other but this did not prevent Ammon, with his inimitable assurance, from addressing the District Attorney by his first name.
"How are you, John?" he inquired nonchalantly, "what can I do for you?"
Mr. Clark repressed his natural inclination108 to kick the insolent109 fellow forcibly out of his office, invited him to be seated and rang for a stenographer110. Ammon asserted his anxiety to assist the District Attorney by every means in his power, but denied knowing the whereabouts of Miller, alleging111 that he was simply acting as his counsel. Mr. Clark replied that in Miller's absence the grand jury might take the view that Ammon himself was the principal. At this Ammon calmly assured his host that as far as he was concerned he was ready to go before the grand jury at any time.
"That is just what I want," returned Mr. Clark, "the grand jury is in session. Come over."
Ammon arose with a smile and accompanied the District Attorney towards the door of the grand jury room. Just outside he suddenly placed his hand to his head as if recollecting112 something.
"One moment," he exclaimed. "I forgot that I have an engagement. I will come over to-morrow."
"Ah!" retorted Mr. Clark, "I do not think you will be here to-morrow."
Schlessinger, who got away with one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars in cash, fled to Europe where he lived high, frequenting the race tracks and gaming tables until he was called to his final account a year or two ago. The money which he took has never been traced. Miller was tried, convicted and sent to Sing Sing. The Appellate Division of the Supreme114 Court then reversed his conviction, but later, on appeal to the Court of Appeals, it was sustained.
Of the enormous sums turned over to Ammon Miller received nothing save the money necessary for his support in Montreal, for the lawyers who defended him, and five dollars per week for his wife and child up to the time he turned State's evidence. It is interesting to note that among the counsel representing Miller upon his trial was Ammon himself. Miller's wife and child were not sent to Montreal by Ammon, nor did the latter secure bail for his client at any time during his different periods of incarceration115. The colonel knew very well that it was a choice between himself and Miller and took no steps which might necessitate116 the election falling upon himself.
The conviction of Miller, with his sentence to ten years in State's prison did not, however, prevent the indictment of Ammon for receiving stolen money in New York County, although the chance that he would ever have to suffer for his crime seemed small indeed. The reader must bear in mind that up to the time of Ammon's trial Miller had never admitted his guilt117; that he was still absolutely, and apparently118 irrevocably, under Ammon's sinister119 influence, keeping in constant communication with him and implicitly120 obeying his instructions while in prison; and that Miller's wife and child were dependent upon Ammon for their daily bread. No wonder Ammon strode the streets confident that his creature would never betray him.
"Now, Billy, you don't want to be shooting off your mouth up here," was his parting injunction to his dupe on his final visit to Sing Sing before he became a guest there himself at the expense of the People.
Miller followed his orders to the letter, and the stipend121 was increased to the munificent122 sum of forty dollars per month.
Meantime the case against Ammon languished123 and the District Attorney of New York County was at his wits' end to devise a means to procure8 the evidence to convict him. To do this it would be necessary to establish affirmatively that the thirty thousand five hundred dollars received by Ammon from Miller and deposited with Wells, Fargo & Co. was the identical money stolen by Miller from the victims of the Franklin Syndicate. It was easy enough to prove that Miller stole hundreds of thousands of dollars, that Ammon received hundreds of thousands, but you had to prove that the same money stolen by Miller passed to the hands of Ammon. Only one man in the world, as Ammon had foreseen, could supply this last necessary link in the chain of evidence and he was a convict—and mute.
It now became the task of the District Attorney to induce Miller to confess the truth and take the stand against Ammon. He had been in prison a considerable time and his health was such as to necessitate his being transferred to the hospital ward68. Several of the District Attorney's assistants visited him at various times at Sing Sing in the hope of being able to persuade him to turn State's evidence, but all their efforts were in vain. Miller refused absolutely to say anything that would tend to implicate124 Ammon.
At last the District Attorney himself, accompanied by Mr. Nott, who later prosecuted125 Ammon, made a special trip to Sing Sing to see what could be done. They found Miller lying upon his prison pallet, his harsh cough and blazing eyes speaking only too patently of his condition. At first Mr. Nott tried to engage him in conversation while the District Attorney occupied himself with other business in another part of the ward, but it was easily apparent that Miller would say nothing. The District Attorney then approached the bed where Miller was lying and inquired if it were true that he declined to say anything which might tend to incriminate Ammon. After some hesitation126 Miller replied that, even if he should testify against his old accomplice127, there was nothing to show that he would be pardoned, and that he would not talk unless he had actually in his hands some paper or writing which would guarantee that if he did so he would be set free.
The spectacle of a convicted felon haggling128 with an officer of the law over the terms upon which he would consent to avail himself of an opportunity to make the only reparation still possible angered the District Attorney, and, turning fiercely upon the prisoner, he arraigned him in scathing terms, stating that he was a miserable swindler and thief, who had robbed thousands of poor people of all the money they had in the world, that he showed himself devoid129 of every spark of decency130 or repentance131 by refusing to assist the law in punishing his confederate and assisting his victims in getting back what was left of the money, and that he, the District Attorney, felt himself humiliated132 in having consented to come there to visit and talk with such a heartless and depraved specimen133 of humanity. The District Attorney then turned his back upon Miller, whose eyes filled with tears, but who made no response.
A few moments later the convict asked permission to speak to the District Attorney alone. With some reluctance134 the latter granted the request and the others drew away.
"Mr. District Attorney," said the wretched man in a trembling voice, with the tears still suffusing135 his eyes, "I am a thief; I did rob all those poor people, and I am heartily136 sorry for it. I would gladly die, if by doing so I could pay them back. But I haven't a single cent of all the money that I stole and the only thing that stands between my wife and baby and starvation is my keeping silence. If I did what you ask, the only money they have to live on would be stopped. I can't see them starve, glad as I would be to do what I can now to make up for the wrong I have done."
"Miller," he replied, "I have done you a great injustice138. I honor you for the position you have taken. Were I in your place I should probably act exactly as you are doing. I cannot promise you a pardon if you testify against Ammon. I cannot even promise that your wife will receive forty dollars a month, for the money in my charge cannot be used for such a purpose; all I can assure you of is that, should you decide to help me, a full and fair statement of all you may have done will be sent to the Governor with a request that he act favorably upon any application for a pardon which you may make. The choice must be your own. Whatever you decide to do, you have my respect and sympathy. Think well over the matter. Do not decide at once; wait for a day or two, and I will return to New York and you can send me word."
The next day Miller sent word that he had determined139 to tell the truth and take the stand, whatever the consequences to himself and his family might be. He was immediately transferred to the Tombs Prison in New York City, where he made a complete and full confession140, not only assisting in every way in securing evidence for the prosecution141 of Ammon, but aiding his trustee in bankruptcy142 to determine the whereabouts of some sixty thousand dollars of the stolen money, which but for him would never have been recovered. At the same time Ammon was re-arrested upon a bench warrant, and his bail sufficiently143 increased to render his appearance for trial probable. As Miller had foreseen, the monthly payment to his wife instantly stopped.
The usual effect produced upon a jury by the testimony144 of a convict accomplice is one of distrust or open incredulity. Every word of Miller's story, however, carried with it the impression of absolute truth. As he proceeded, in spite of the sneers145 of the defence, an extraordinary wave of sympathy for the man swept over the court-room, and the jury listened with close attention to his graphic146 account of the rise and fall of the outrageous147 conspiracy which had attempted to shield its alluring offer of instant wealth behind the name of America's most practical philosopher, whose only receipt for the same end had been frugality149 and industry. Supported as Miller was by the corroborative150 testimony of other witnesses and by the certificates of deposit which Ammon had, with his customary bravado, made out in his own handwriting, no room was left for even the slightest doubt, not only that the money had been stolen but that Ammon had received it. Indeed so plain was the proposition that the defence never for an instant contemplated151 the possibility of putting Ammon upon the stand in his own behalf. It was in truth an extraordinary case, for the principal element in the proof was made out by the evidence of the thief himself that he was a thief. Miller had been tried and convicted of the very larceny152 to which he now testified, and, although in the eyes of the law no principle of res adjudicata could apply in Ammon's case, it was a logical conclusion that if the evidence upon the first trial was repeated, the necessary element of larceny would be effectually established. Hence, in point of fact, Miller's testimony upon the question of whether the money had been stolen was entirely unnecessary, and the efforts of the defence were directed simply to making out Miller such a miscreant153 upon his own testimony that perforce the jury could not accept his evidence when it reached the point of implicating154 Ammon. All their attempts in this direction, however, only roused increased sympathy for the witness and hostility155 toward their own client, and made the jury the more ready to believe that Ammon had been the only one in the end to profit by the transaction.
(1) That Ammon was acting only as Miller's counsel, and hence was immune, and,
(2) That there was no adequate legal evidence that the thirty thousand five hundred dollars which Ammon had deposited, as shown by the deposit slip, was the identical money stolen from the victims of the Franklin syndicate. As bearing upon this they urged that the stolen money had in fact been deposited by Miller himself, and so had lost the character of stolen money before it was turned over to the defendant, and that Miller's story being that of an accomplice required absolute corroboration157 in every detail.
The point that Ammon was acting only as a lawyer was quickly disposed of by Judge Newburger.
"Something has been said by counsel," he remarked in his charge to the jury, "to the effect that the defendant, as a lawyer, had a perfect right to advise Miller, but I know of no rule of law that will permit counsel to advise how a crime can be committed."
As to the identity of the money, the Court charged that it made no difference which person performed the physical act of placing the cash in the hands of the receiving teller158 of the bank, so long as it was deposited to Ammon's credit.
On the question of what corroboration of Miller's story was necessary, Judge Ingraham, in the Appellate Division, expressed great doubt as to whether in the eyes of the law Miller, the thief, could be regarded as an accomplice of Ammon in receiving the stolen money at all, and stated that even if he could be so regarded, there was more than abundant corroboration of his testimony.
Ammon's conviction was affirmed throughout the courts, including the Court of Appeals, and the defendant himself is now engaged in serving out his necessarily inadequate159 sentence—necessarily inadequate, since under the laws of the State of New York, the receiver of stolen goods, however great his moral obliquity160 may be, and however great the amount stolen, can only receive half the punishment which may be meted161 out to the thief himself, "receiving" being punishable by only five years or less in State's prison, while grand larceny is punishable by ten years.
Yet who was the greater criminal—the weak, ignorant, poverty-stricken clerk, or the shrewd, experienced lawyer who preyed upon his client and through him upon the community at large?
The confession of Miller, in the face of what the consequences of his course might mean to his wife and child, was an act of moral courage. The price he had to pay is known to himself alone. But the horrors of life in prison for the "squealer162" were thoroughly163 familiar to him when he elected to do what he could to atone164 for his crime. In fact Ammon had not neglected to picture them vividly165 to him and to stigmatize166 an erstwhile client of his.
"Everything looks good," he wrote to Miller in Sing Sing, in reporting the affirmance of Goslin's conviction, "especially since the squealer is getting his just deserts."
With no certain knowledge of a future pardon Miller went back to prison cheerfully to face all the nameless tortures inflicted167 upon those who help the State—the absolute black silence of convict excommunication, the blows and kicks inflicted without opportunity for retaliation168 or complaint, the hostility of guards and keepers, the suffering of abject169 poverty, keener in a prison house than on any other foot of earth.
It is interesting to observe that Miller's original purpose had been to secure money to speculate with—for he had been bitten deep by the tarantula of Wall Street, and his early experiences had led him to believe that he could beat the market if only he had sufficient margin41. This margin he set out to secure. Then when he saw how easy it was to get money for the asking, he dropped the idea of speculation170 and simply became a banker. He did make one bona-fide attempt, but the stock went down, he sold out and netted a small loss. Had Miller actually continued to speculate it is doubtful whether he could have been convicted for any crime, since it was for that purpose that the money was entrusted to him. He might have lost it all in the Street and gone scot free. As it was, in failing to gamble with it, he became guilty of embezzlement171.
Ammon arrived in Sing Sing with a degree of éclat. He found numerous old friends and clients among the inmates172. He brought a social position which had its value. Money, too, is no less desirable there than elsewhere, and Ammon had plenty of it.
In due course, but not until he had served more than half his sentence (less commutation), Miller a broken man, received his pardon, and went back to his wife and child. When Governor Higgins performed this act of executive clemency173, many honest folk in Brooklyn and elsewhere loudly expressed their indignation. District Attorney Jerome did not escape their blame. Was this contemptible174 thief, this meanest of all mean swindlers, who had stolen hundreds of thousands to be turned loose on the community before he had served half his sentence? It was an outrage148! A disgrace to civilization! Reader, how say you?
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1 parlance | |
n.说法;语调 | |
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2 miller | |
n.磨坊主 | |
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3 adviser | |
n.劝告者,顾问 | |
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4 complacently | |
adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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5 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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6 sneer | |
v.轻蔑;嘲笑;n.嘲笑,讥讽的言语 | |
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7 curtly | |
adv.简短地 | |
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8 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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9 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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10 adroit | |
adj.熟练的,灵巧的 | |
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11 undone | |
a.未做完的,未完成的 | |
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12 evade | |
vt.逃避,回避;避开,躲避 | |
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13 cynically | |
adv.爱嘲笑地,冷笑地 | |
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14 dubious | |
adj.怀疑的,无把握的;有问题的,靠不住的 | |
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15 bluff | |
v.虚张声势,用假象骗人;n.虚张声势,欺骗 | |
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16 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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17 bravado | |
n.虚张声势,故作勇敢,逞能 | |
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18 engendered | |
v.产生(某形势或状况),造成,引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19 circumventing | |
v.设法克服或避免(某事物),回避( circumvent的现在分词 );绕过,绕行,绕道旅行 | |
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20 inspector | |
n.检查员,监察员,视察员 | |
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21 magistrate | |
n.地方行政官,地方法官,治安官 | |
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22 vacuous | |
adj.空的,漫散的,无聊的,愚蠢的 | |
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23 eschew | |
v.避开,戒绝 | |
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24 loathed | |
v.憎恨,厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 );极不喜欢 | |
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25 entrusted | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 enthralled | |
迷住,吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 ); 使感到非常愉快 | |
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27 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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28 collapsed | |
adj.倒塌的 | |
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29 arraigned | |
v.告发( arraign的过去式和过去分词 );控告;传讯;指责 | |
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30 emaciated | |
adj.衰弱的,消瘦的 | |
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31 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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32 repulsive | |
adj.排斥的,使人反感的 | |
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33 cordon | |
n.警戒线,哨兵线 | |
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34 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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35 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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36 prosecutor | |
n.起诉人;检察官,公诉人 | |
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37 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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38 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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39 defendant | |
n.被告;adj.处于被告地位的 | |
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40 lucrative | |
adj.赚钱的,可获利的 | |
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41 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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42 margined | |
[医]具边的 | |
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43 alluring | |
adj.吸引人的,迷人的 | |
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44 soliciting | |
v.恳求( solicit的现在分词 );(指娼妇)拉客;索求;征求 | |
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45 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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46 preyed | |
v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 );掠食;折磨;(人)靠欺诈为生 | |
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47 prospered | |
成功,兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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49 tenement | |
n.公寓;房屋 | |
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50 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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51 cupidity | |
n.贪心,贪财 | |
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52 dividends | |
红利( dividend的名词复数 ); 股息; 被除数; (足球彩票的)彩金 | |
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53 attenuated | |
v.(使)变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)变薄;(使)变小;减弱 | |
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54 rivulet | |
n.小溪,小河 | |
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55 brokers | |
n.(股票、外币等)经纪人( broker的名词复数 );中间人;代理商;(订合同的)中人v.做掮客(或中人等)( broker的第三人称单数 );作为权力经纪人进行谈判;以中间人等身份安排… | |
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56 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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57 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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58 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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59 cram | |
v.填塞,塞满,临时抱佛脚,为考试而学习 | |
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60 cramp | |
n.痉挛;[pl.](腹)绞痛;vt.限制,束缚 | |
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61 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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62 deluge | |
n./vt.洪水,暴雨,使泛滥 | |
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63 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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65 waded | |
(从水、泥等)蹚,走过,跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66 pretense | |
n.矫饰,做作,借口 | |
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67 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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68 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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69 plethora | |
n.过量,过剩 | |
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70 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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71 computed | |
adj.[医]计算的,使用计算机的v.计算,估算( compute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72 accounting | |
n.会计,会计学,借贷对照表 | |
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73 advertising | |
n.广告业;广告活动 a.广告的;广告业务的 | |
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74 consultation | |
n.咨询;商量;商议;会议 | |
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75 procuring | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的现在分词 );拉皮条 | |
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76 twitched | |
vt.& vi.(使)抽动,(使)颤动(twitch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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77 scathing | |
adj.(言词、文章)严厉的,尖刻的;不留情的adv.严厉地,尖刻地v.伤害,损害(尤指使之枯萎)( scathe的现在分词) | |
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78 inquisitive | |
adj.求知欲强的,好奇的,好寻根究底的 | |
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79 satchel | |
n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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80 watts | |
(电力计量单位)瓦,瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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81 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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82 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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83 stimulating | |
adj.有启发性的,能激发人思考的 | |
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84 remit | |
v.汇款,汇寄;豁免(债务),免除(处罚等) | |
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85 scuttled | |
v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 );快跑,急走 | |
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86 crammed | |
adj.塞满的,挤满的;大口地吃;快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满;填入;临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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87 creditors | |
n.债权人,债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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88 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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89 illustrated | |
adj. 有插图的,列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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90 pittance | |
n.微薄的薪水,少量 | |
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91 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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92 dodged | |
v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 );回避 | |
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93 indicted | |
控告,起诉( indict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94 conspiracy | |
n.阴谋,密谋,共谋 | |
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95 defraud | |
vt.欺骗,欺诈 | |
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96 custody | |
n.监护,照看,羁押,拘留 | |
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97 chuckled | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98 trotted | |
小跑,急走( trot的过去分词 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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99 avaricious | |
adj.贪婪的,贪心的 | |
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100 scrap | |
n.碎片;废料;v.废弃,报废 | |
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101 discredited | |
不足信的,不名誉的 | |
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102 felon | |
n.重罪犯;adj.残忍的 | |
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103 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
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104 indictment | |
n.起诉;诉状 | |
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105 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
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106 colossal | |
adj.异常的,庞大的 | |
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107 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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108 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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109 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
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110 stenographer | |
n.速记员 | |
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111 alleging | |
断言,宣称,辩解( allege的现在分词 ) | |
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112 recollecting | |
v.记起,想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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113 bail | |
v.舀(水),保释;n.保证金,保释,保释人 | |
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114 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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115 incarceration | |
n.监禁,禁闭;钳闭 | |
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116 necessitate | |
v.使成为必要,需要 | |
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117 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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118 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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119 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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120 implicitly | |
adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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121 stipend | |
n.薪贴;奖学金;养老金 | |
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122 munificent | |
adj.慷慨的,大方的 | |
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123 languished | |
长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 ); 受折磨; 变得(越来越)衰弱; 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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124 implicate | |
vt.使牵连其中,涉嫌 | |
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125 prosecuted | |
a.被起诉的 | |
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126 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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127 accomplice | |
n.从犯,帮凶,同谋 | |
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128 haggling | |
v.讨价还价( haggle的现在分词 ) | |
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129 devoid | |
adj.全无的,缺乏的 | |
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130 decency | |
n.体面,得体,合宜,正派,庄重 | |
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131 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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132 humiliated | |
感到羞愧的 | |
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133 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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134 reluctance | |
n.厌恶,讨厌,勉强,不情愿 | |
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135 suffusing | |
v.(指颜色、水气等)弥漫于,布满( suffuse的现在分词 ) | |
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136 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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137 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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138 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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139 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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140 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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141 prosecution | |
n.起诉,告发,检举,执行,经营 | |
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142 bankruptcy | |
n.破产;无偿付能力 | |
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143 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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144 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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145 sneers | |
讥笑的表情(言语)( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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146 graphic | |
adj.生动的,形象的,绘画的,文字的,图表的 | |
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147 outrageous | |
adj.无理的,令人不能容忍的 | |
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148 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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149 frugality | |
n.节约,节俭 | |
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150 corroborative | |
adj.确证(性)的,确凿的 | |
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151 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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152 larceny | |
n.盗窃(罪) | |
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153 miscreant | |
n.恶棍 | |
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154 implicating | |
vt.牵涉,涉及(implicate的现在分词形式) | |
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155 hostility | |
n.敌对,敌意;抵制[pl.]交战,战争 | |
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156 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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157 corroboration | |
n.进一步的证实,进一步的证据 | |
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158 teller | |
n.银行出纳员;(选举)计票员 | |
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159 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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160 obliquity | |
n.倾斜度 | |
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161 meted | |
v.(对某人)施以,给予(处罚等)( mete的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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162 squealer | |
发出尖叫声的人;雏鸽;小松鸡;小鹌鹑 | |
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163 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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164 atone | |
v.赎罪,补偿 | |
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165 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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166 stigmatize | |
v.污蔑,玷污 | |
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167 inflicted | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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168 retaliation | |
n.报复,反击 | |
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169 abject | |
adj.极可怜的,卑屈的 | |
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170 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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171 embezzlement | |
n.盗用,贪污 | |
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172 inmates | |
n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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173 clemency | |
n.温和,仁慈,宽厚 | |
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174 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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