The next morning's mail brought a letter from Ethel, a few lines of encouragement and affection. Yes, she was right; it would not do for him to stay under one roof with Reginald any longer. He must only obtain the manuscript and, if possible, surprise him in the attempt to exercise his mysterious and criminal power. Then he would be in the position to dictate1 terms and to demand Jack2's safety as the price of his silence.
Reginald, however, had closeted himself that day in his studio busily writing. Only the clatter3 of his typewriter announced his presence in the house. There was no chance for conversation or for obtaining the precious manuscript of "Leontina."
Meanwhile Ernest was looking over his papers and preparing everything for a quick departure. Glancing over old letters and notes, he became readily interested and hardly noticed the passage of the hours.
When the night came he only partly undressed and threw himself upon the bed. It was now ten. At twelve he had promised Ethel to speak to her over the telephone. He was determined4 not to sleep at all that night. At last he would discover whether or not on the previous and other nights Reginald had secretly entered his room.
When one hour had passed without incident, his attention relaxed a little. His eyes were gradually closing when suddenly something seemed to stir at the door. The Chinese vase came rattling5 to the floor.
At once Ernest sprang up. His face had blanched6 with terror. It was whiter than the linen7 in which they wrap the dead. But his soul was resolute8.
He touched a button and the electric light illuminated9 the whole chamber10. There was no nook for even a shadow to hide. Yet there was no one to be seen. From without the door came no sound. Suddenly something soft touched his foot. He gathered all his will power so as not to break out into a frenzied11 shriek12. Then he laughed, not a hearty13 laugh, to be sure. A tiny nose and a tail gracefully14 curled were brushing against him. The source of the disturbance15 was a little Maltese cat, his favourite, that by some chance had remained in his room. After its essay at midnight gymnastics the animal quieted down and lay purring at the foot of his bed.
The presence of a living thing was a certain comfort, and the reservoir of his strength was well nigh exhausted16.
He dimly remembered his promise to Ethel, but his lids drooped17 with sheer weariness. Perhaps an hour passed in this way, when suddenly his blood congealed18 with dread19.
He felt the presence of the hand of Reginald Clarke--unmistakably--groping in his brain as if searching for something that had still escaped him.
He tried to move, to cry out, but his limbs were paralysed. When, by a superhuman effort, he at last succeeded in shaking off the numbness20 that held him enchained, he awoke just in time to see a figure, that of a man, disappearing in the wall that separated Reginald's apartments from his room....
This time it was no delusion21 of the senses. He heard something like a secret door softly closing behind retreating steps. A sudden fierce anger seized him. He was oblivious22 of the danger of the terrible power of the older man, oblivious of the love he had once borne him, oblivious of everything save the sense of outraged23 humanity and outraged right.
The law permits us to shoot a burglar who goes through our pockets at night. Must he tolerate the ravages24 of this a thousand times more dastardly and dangerous spiritual thief? Was Reginald to enjoy the fruit of other men's labour unpunished? Was he to continue growing into the mightiest25 literary factor of the century by preying26 upon his betters? Abel, Walkham, Ethel, he, Jack, were they all to be victims of this insatiable monster?
Was this force resistless as it was relentless27?
No, a thousand times, no!
He dashed himself against the wall at the place where the shadow of Reginald Clarke had disappeared. In doing so he touched upon a secret spring. The wall gave way noiselessly. Speechless with rage he crossed the next room and the one adjoining it, and stood in Reginald's studio. The room was brilliantly lighted, and Reginald, still dressed, was seated at his writing-table scribbling28 notes upon little scraps29 of paper in his accustomed manner.
At Ernest's approach he looked up without evincing the least sign of terror or surprise. Calmly, almost majestically30, he folded his arms over his breast, but there was a menacing glitter in his eyes as he confronted his victim.
1 dictate | |
v.口授;(使)听写;指令,指示,命令 | |
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2 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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3 clatter | |
v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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4 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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5 rattling | |
adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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6 blanched | |
v.使变白( blanch的过去式 );使(植物)不见阳光而变白;酸洗(金属)使有光泽;用沸水烫(杏仁等)以便去皮 | |
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7 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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8 resolute | |
adj.坚决的,果敢的 | |
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9 illuminated | |
adj.被照明的;受启迪的 | |
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10 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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11 frenzied | |
a.激怒的;疯狂的 | |
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12 shriek | |
v./n.尖叫,叫喊 | |
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13 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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14 gracefully | |
ad.大大方方地;优美地 | |
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15 disturbance | |
n.动乱,骚动;打扰,干扰;(身心)失调 | |
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16 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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17 drooped | |
弯曲或下垂,发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 congealed | |
v.使凝结,冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 );(指血)凝结 | |
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19 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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20 numbness | |
n.无感觉,麻木,惊呆 | |
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21 delusion | |
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑 | |
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22 oblivious | |
adj.易忘的,遗忘的,忘却的,健忘的 | |
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23 outraged | |
a.震惊的,义愤填膺的 | |
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24 ravages | |
劫掠后的残迹,破坏的结果,毁坏后的残迹 | |
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25 mightiest | |
adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 );巨大的;强有力的;浩瀚的 | |
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26 preying | |
v.掠食( prey的现在分词 );掠食;折磨;(人)靠欺诈为生 | |
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27 relentless | |
adj.残酷的,不留情的,无怜悯心的 | |
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28 scribbling | |
n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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29 scraps | |
油渣 | |
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30 majestically | |
雄伟地; 庄重地; 威严地; 崇高地 | |
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