“What are you trying to do? Why do you fall over a man like that? Are you drunk?”
Sweetwater drew himself up, made a sheepish bow, and muttered pantingly:
“Excuse me, sir. I’m in a hurry; I’m a messenger.”
The man who was not in a hurry seemed disposed to keep him for a moment. He had caught sight of Sweetwater’s eye, which was his one remarkable1 feature, and he had also been impressed by that word messenger, for he repeated it with some emphasis.
“A messenger, eh? Are you going on a message now?”
Sweetwater, who was anxious to get away from the vicinity of Mr. Stone, shrugged2 his shoulders in careless denial, and was pushing on when the gentleman again detained him.
“Do you know,” said he, “that I like your looks? You are not a beauty, but you look like a fellow who, if he promised to do a thing, would do it and do it mighty3 well too.”
Sweetwater could not restrain a certain movement of pride. He was honest, and he knew it, but the fact had not always been so openly recognised.
“I have just earned five dollars by doing a commission for a man,” said he, with a straightforward4 look. “See, sir. It was honestly earned.”
The man, who was young and had a rather dashing but inscrutable physiognomy, glanced at the coin Sweetwater showed him and betrayed a certain disappointment.
“So you’re flush,” said he. “Don’t want another job?”
“Oh, as to that,” said Sweetwater, edging slowly down the street, “I’m always ready for business. Five dollars won’t last forever, and, besides, I’m in need of new togs.”
“Well, rather,” retorted the other, carelessly following him. “Do you mind going up to Boston?”
Boston! Another jump toward home.
“No,” said Sweetwater, hesitatingly, “not if it’s made worth my while. Do you want your message delivered to-day?”
“At once. That is, this evening. It’s a task involving patience and more or less shrewd judgment5. Have you these qualities, my friend? One would not judge it from your clothes.”
“My clothes!” laughed Sweetwater. Life was growing very interesting all at once. “I know it takes patience to WEAR them, and as for any lack of judgment I may show in their choice, I should just like to say I did not choose them myself, sir; they fell to me promiscuous-like as a sort of legacy6 from friends. You’ll see what I’ll do in that way if you give me the chance to earn an extra ten.”
“Ah, it’s ten dollars you want. Well, come in here and have a drink and then we’ll see.”
They were before a saloon house of less than humble7 pretensions8, and as he followed the young gentleman in it struck him that it was himself rather than his well-dressed and airy companion who would be expected to drink here. But he made no remark, though he intended to surprise the man by his temperance.
“Now, look here,” said the young gentleman, suddenly seating himself at a dingy9 table in a very dark corner and motioning Sweetwater to do the same; “I’ve been looking for a man all day to go up to Boston for me, and I think you’ll do. You know Boston?”
Sweetwater had great command over himself, but he flushed slightly at this question, though it was so dark where he sat with this man that it made very little difference.
“I have been there,” said he.
“Very well, then, you will go again to-night. You will arrive there about seven, you will go the rounds of some half-dozen places whose names I will give you, and when you come across a certain gentleman whom I will describe to you, you will give him —”
“Not a package?” Sweetwater broke out with a certain sort of dread11 of a repetition of his late experience.
“No, this slip on which two words are written. He will want one more word, but before you give it to him you must ask for your ten dollars. You’ll get them,” he answered in response to a glance of suspicion from Sweetwater. Sweetwater was convinced that he had got hold of another suspicious job. It made him a little serious. “Do I look like a go-between for crooks12?” he asked himself. “I’m afraid I’m not so much of a success as I thought myself.” But he said to the man before him: “Ten dollars is small pay for such business. Twenty-five would be nearer the mark.”
“Very well, he will give you twenty-five dollars. I forgot that ten dollars was but little in advance of your expenses.”
“Twenty-five if I find him, and he is in funds. What if I don’t?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Except your ticket; that I’ll give you.”
Sweetwater did not know what to say. Like the preceding job it might be innocent and it might not. And then, he did not like going to Boston, where he was liable to meet more than one who knew him.
“There is no harm in the business,” observed the other, carelessly, pushing a glass of whiskey which had just been served him toward Sweetwater. “I would even be willing to do it myself, if I could leave New Bedford to-night, but I can’t. Come! It’s as easy as crooking13 your elbow.”
“Just now you said it wasn’t,” growled15 Sweetwater, drinking from his glass. “But no matter about that, go ahead, I’ll do it. Shall I have to buy other clothes?”
“I’d buy a new pair of trousers,” suggested the other. “The rest you can get in Boston. You don’t want to be too much in evidence, you know.”
Sweetwater agreed with. him. To attract attention was what he most dreaded16. “When does the train start?” he asked.
The young man told him.
“Well, that will give me time to buy what I want. Now, what are your instructions?”
The young man gave him a memorandum17, containing four addresses. “You will find him at one of these places,” said he. “And now to know your man when you see him. He is a large, handsome fellow, with red hair and a moustache like the devil. He has been hurt, and wears his left hand in a sling18, but he can play cards, and will be found playing cards, and in very good company too. You will have to use your discretion19 in approaching him. When once he sees this bit of paper, all will be easy. He knows what these two words mean well enough, and the third one, the one that is worth twenty-five dollars to you, is FREDERICK.”
Sweetwater, who had drunk half his glass, started so at this word, which was always humming in his brain, that he knocked over his tumbler and spilled what was left in it.
“I hope I won’t forget that word,” he remarked, in a careless tone, intended to carry off his momentary20 show of feeling.
“If you do, then don’t expect the twenty-five dollars,” retorted the other, finishing his own glass, but not offering to renew Sweetwater’s.
Sweetwater laughed, said he thought he could trust his memory, and rose. In a half-hour he was at the depot21, and in another fifteen minutes speeding out of New Bedford on his way to Boston.
He had had but one anxiety — that Mr. Stone might be going up to Boston too. But, once relieved of this apprehension22, he settled back, and for the first time in twelve hours had a minute in which to ask himself who he was, and what he was about. Adventure had followed so fast upon adventure that he was in a more or less dazed condition, and felt as little capable of connecting event with event as if he had been asked to recall the changing pictures of a kaleidoscope. That affair of the packet, now, was it or was it not serious, and would he ever know what it meant or how it turned out?
Like a child who had been given a pebble23, and told to throw it over the wall, he had thrown and run, giving a shout of warning, it is true, but not knowing, nor ever likely to know, where the stone had fallen, or what it was meant to do. Then this new commission on which he was bent24 — was it in any way connected with the other, or merely the odd result of his being in the right place at the right moment? He was inclined to think the latter. And yet how odd it was that one doubtful errand should be followed by another, in a town no larger than New Bedford, forcing him from scene to scene, till he found himself speeding toward the city he least desired to enter, and from which he had the most to fear!
But brooding over a case like this brings small comfort. He felt that he had been juggled25 with, but he neither knew by whose hand nor in what cause. If the hand was that of Providence26, why he had only to go on following the beck of the moment, while if it was that of Fate, the very uselessness of struggling with it was apparent at once. Poor reasoning, perhaps, but no other offered, and satisfied that whatever came his intentions were above question, he settled himself at last for a nap, of which he certainly stood in good need. When he awoke he was in Boston.
The first thing he did was to show his list of addresses and inquire into what quarter they would lead him. To his surprise he found it to be the fashionable quarter. Two of them were names of well-known club-houses, a third that of a first-class restaurant, and the fourth that of a private house on Commonwealth27 Avenue. Heigho! and he was dressed like a tramp, or nearly so!
“Queer messenger, I, for such kind of work,” thought he. “I wonder why he lighted on such a rough-looking customer. He must have had his reasons. I wonder if he wished the errand to fail. He bore himself very nonchalantly at the depot. When I last saw him his face and attitude were those of a totally unconcerned man. Have I been sent on a fool’s chase after all?”
The absurdity28 of this conclusion struck him, however, as he reasoned: “Why, then, should he have paid my fare? Not as a benefit to me, of course, but for his own ends, whatever they might be. Let us see, then, what those ends are. So now for the gentleman of the red hair who plays cards with one arm in a sling.”
He thought that he might get entrance into the club-houses easily enough. He possessed29 a certain amount of insinuation when necessity required, and, if hard-featured, had a good expression which in unprejudiced minds defied criticism. Of porters and doorkeepers he was not afraid, and these were the men he must first encounter.
At the first club-house he succeeded easily enough in getting word with the man waiting in the large hall, and before many minutes learned that the object of his search was not to be found there that evening. He also learned his name, which was a great step towards the success of his embassy. It was Wattles, Captain Wattles, a marked man evidently, even in this exclusive and aristocratic club.
Armed with this new knowledge, he made his way to the second building of the kind and boldly demanded speech with Captain Wattles. But Captain Wattles had not yet arrived and he went out again this time to look him up at the restaurant.
He was not there. As Sweetwater was going out two gentlemen came in, one of whom said to the other in passing:
“Sick, do you say? I thought Wattles was made of iron.”
“So he was,” returned the other, “before that accident to his arm. Now the least thing upsets him. He’s down at Haberstow’s.”
That was all; the door was swung to between them. Sweetwater had received his clew, but what a clew! Haberstow’s? Where was that?
Thinking the bold course the best one, he re-entered the restaurant and approached the gentlemen he had just seen enter.
“I heard you speak the name of Captain Wattles,” said he. “I am hunting for Captain Wattles. Can you tell me where he is?”
He soon saw that he had struck the wrong men for information. They not only refused to answer him, but treated him with open disdain30. Unwilling31 to lose time, he left them, and having no other resource, hastened to the last place mentioned on his list.
It was now late, too late to enter a private house under ordinary circumstances, but this house was lighted up, and a carriage stood in front of it; so he had the courage to run up the steps and consult the large door-plate visible from the sidewalk. It read thus:
HABERSTOW.
Fortune had favoured him better than he expected.
He hesitated a moment, then decided32 to ring the bell. But before he had done so, the door opened and an old gentleman appeared seeing a younger man out. The latter had his arm in a sling, and bore himself with a fierceness that made his appearance somewhat alarming; the other seemed to be in an irate33 state of mind.
“No apologies!” the former was saying. “I don’t mind the night air; I’m not so ill as that. When I’m myself again we’ll have a little more talk. My compliments to your daughter, sir. I wish you a very good evening, or rather night.”
The old gentleman bowed, and as he did so Sweetwater caught a glimpse (it was the shortest glimpse in the world) of a sweet face beaming from a doorway34 far down the hall. There was pain in it and a yearning35 anxiety that made it very beautiful; then it vanished, and the old gentleman, uttering some few sarcastic36 words, closed the door, and Sweetwater found himself alone and in darkness.
The kaleidoscope had been given another turn.
Dashing down the stoop, he came upon the gentleman who had preceded him, just as he was seating himself in the carriage.
“Pardon me,” he gasped37, as the driver caught up the reins38; “you have forgotten something.” Then, as Captain Wattles looked hastily out, “You have forgotten me.”
The oath that rang out from under that twitching39 red moustache was something to startle even him. But he clung to the carriage window and presently managed to say:
“A messenger, sir, from New Bedford. I have been on the hunt for you for two hours. It won’t keep, sir, for more than a half-hour longer. Where shall I find you during that time?”
Captain Wattles, on whom the name New Bedford seemed to have made some impression, pointed40 up at the coachman’s box with a growl14, in which command mingled41 strangely with menace. Then he threw himself back. Evidently the captain was not in very good humour.
Sweetwater, taking this as an order to seat himself beside the driver, did so, and the carriage drove off. It went at a rapid pace, and before he had time to propound42 more than a question or two to the coachman, it stopped before a large apartment-house in a brilliantly lighted street.
Captain Wattles got out, and Sweetwater followed him. The former, who seemed to have forgotten Sweetwater, walked past him and entered the building with a stride and swing that made the plain, lean, insignificant-looking messenger behind him feel smaller than ever. Indeed, he had never felt so small, for not only was the captain a man of superb proportions and conspicuous43 bearing, but he possessed, in spite of his fiery44 hair and fierce moustache, that beauté de diable which is at once threatening and imposing45. Added to this, he was angry and so absorbed in his own thoughts that he would be very apt to visit punishment of no light character upon anyone who interfered46 with him. A pleasing prospect47 for Sweetwater, who, however, kept on with the dogged determination of his character up the first flight of stairs and then up another till they stopped, Captain Wattles first and afterwards his humble follower48, before a small door into which the captain endeavoured to fit a key. The oaths which followed his failure to do this were not very encouraging to the man behind, nor was the kick which he gave the door after the second more successful attempt calculated to act in a very reassuring49 way upon anyone whose future pay for a doubtful task rested upon this man’s good nature.
The darkness which met them both on the threshold of this now open room was speedily relieved by a burst of electric light, that flooded the whole apartment and brought out the captain’s swaggering form and threatening features with startling distinctness. He had thrown off his hat and was relieving himself of a cloak in a furious way that caused Sweetwater to shrink back, and, as the French say, efface50 himself as much as possible behind a clothes-tree standing51 near the door. That the captain had entirely52 forgotten him was evident, and for the present moment that gentleman was too angry to care or even notice if a dozen men stood at the door. As he was talking all this time, or rather jerking out sharp sentences, as men do when in a towering rage, Sweetwater was glad to be left unnoticed, for much can be gathered from scattered53 sentences, especially when a man is in too reckless a frame of mind to weigh them. He, therefore, made but little movement and listened; and these are some of the ejaculations and scraps54 of talk he heard:
“The old purse-proud fool! Honoured by my friendship, but not ready to accept me as his daughter’s suitor! As if I would lounge away hours that mean dollars to me in his stiff old drawing-room, just to hear his everlasting55 drone about stocks up and stocks down, and politics gone all wrong. He has heard that I play cards, and — How pretty she looked! I believe I half like that girl, and when I think she has a million in her own right — Damn it, if I cannot win her openly and with papa’s consent, I will carry her off with only her own. She’s worth the effort, doubly worth it, and when I have her and her money — Eh! Who are you?”
He had seen Sweetwater at last, which was not strange, seeing that he had turned his way, and was within two feet of him.
“What are you doing here, and who let you in? Get out, or —”
“A message, Captain Wattles! A message from New Bedford. You have forgotten, sir; you bade me follow you.”
It was curious to see the menace slowly die out of the face of this flushed and angry man as he met Sweetwater’s calm eye and unabashed front, and noticed, as he had not done at first, the slip of paper which the latter resolutely56 held out.
“New Bedford; ah, from Campbell, I take it. Let me see!” And the hand which had shook with rage now trembled with a very different sort of emotion as he took the slip, cast his eyes over it, and then looked back at Sweetwater.
Now, Sweetwater knew the two words written on that paper. He could see out of the back of his head at times, and he had been able to make out these words when the man in New Bedford was writing them.
“Happenings; Afghanistan,” with the figures 2000 after the latter.
Not much sense in them singly or in conjunction, but the captain, muttering them over to himself, consulted a little book which he took from his breast pocket and found, or seemed to, a clew to their meaning. It could only have been a partial one, however, for in another instant he turned on Sweetwater with a sour look and a thundering oath.
“Is this all?” he shouted. “Does he call this a complete message?”
“There is another word,” returned Sweetwater, “which he bade me give you by word of mouth; but that word don’t go for nothing. It’s worth just twenty-five dollars. I’ve earned it, sir. I came up from New Bedford on purpose to deliver it to you.”
Sweetwater expected a blow, but he only got a stare.
“Twenty-five dollars,” muttered the captain. “Well, it’s fortunate that I have them. And who are you?” he asked. “Not one of Campbell’s pick-ups, surely?”
“I am a confidential57 messenger,” smiled Sweetwater, amused against his will at finding a name for himself. “I carry messages and execute commissions that require more or less discretion in the handling. I am paid well. Twenty-five dollars is the price of this job.”
“So you have had the honour of informing me before,” blustered58 the other with an attempt to hide some serious emotion. “Why, man, what do you fear? Don’t you see I’m hurt? You could knock me over with a feather if you touched my game arm.”
“Twenty-five dollars,” repeated Sweetwater.
The captain grew angrier. “Dash it! aren’t you going to have them? What’s the word?”
But Sweetwater wasn’t going to be caught by chaff59.
“C. O. D.,” he insisted firmly, standing his ground, though certain that the blow would now fall. But no, the captain laughed, and tugging60 away with his one free hand at his pocket, he brought out a pocket-book, from which he managed deftly61 enough to draw out three bills. “There,” said he, laying them on the table, but keeping one long vigorous finger on them. “Now, the word.”
Sweetwater laid his own hand on the bills.
“Frederick,” said he.
“Ah!” said the other thoughtfully, lifting his finger and proceeding62 to stride up and down the room. “He’s a stiff one. What he says, he will do. Two thousand dollars! and soon, too, I warrant. Well, I’m in a devil of a fix at last.” He had again forgotten the presence of Sweetwater.
Suddenly he turned or rather stopped. His eye was on the messenger, but he did not even see him. “One Frederick must offset63 the other,” he cried. “It’s the only loophole out,” and he threw himself into a chair from which he immediately sprang up again with a yell. He had hurt his wounded arm.
Pandemonium64 reigned65 in that small room for a minute, then his eye fell again on Sweetwater, who, under the fascination66 of the spectacle offered him, had only just succeeded in finding the knob of the door. This time there was recognition in his look.
“Wait!” he cried. “I may have use for you too. Confidential messengers are hard to come by, and one that Campbell would employ must be all right. Sit down there! I’ll talk to you when I’m ready.”
Sweetwater was not slow in obeying this command. Business was booming with him. Besides, the name of Frederick acted like a charm upon him. There seemed to be so many Fredericks in the world, and one of them lay in such a curious way near his heart.
Meanwhile the captain reseated himself, but more carefully. He had a plan or method of procedure to think out, or so it seemed, for he sat a long time in rigid67 immobility, with only the scowl68 of perplexity or ill-temper on his brow to show the nature of his thoughts. Then he drew a sheet of paper toward him, and began to write a letter. He was so absorbed over this letter and the manipulation of it, having but one hand to work with, that Sweetwater determined69 upon a hazardous70 stroke. The little book which the captain had consulted, and which had undoubtedly71 furnished him with a key to those two incongruous words, lay on the floor not far from him, having been flung from its owner’s hand during the moments of passion and suffering I have above mentioned. To reach this book with his foot, to draw it toward him, and, finally, to get hold of it with his hand, was not difficult for one who aspired72 to be a detective, and had already done some good work in that direction. But it was harder to turn the leaves and find the words he sought without attracting the attention of his fierce companion. He, however, succeeded in doing this at last, the long list of words he found on every page being arranged alphabetically73. It was a private code for telegraphic or cable messages, and he soon found that “Happenings” meant: “Our little game discovered; play straight until I give you the wink74.” And that “Afghanistan” stood for: “Hush money.” As the latter was followed by the figures I have mentioned, the purport75 of the message needed no explanation, but the word “Frederick” did. So he searched for that, only to find that it was not in the book. There was but one conclusion to draw. This name was perfectly76 well known between them, and was that of the person, no doubt, who laid claim to the two thousand dollars.
Satisfied at holding this clew to the riddle77, he dropped the book again at his side and skilfully78 kicked it far out into the room. Captain Wattles had seen nothing. He was a man who took in only one thing at a time.
The penning of that letter went on laboriously79. It took so long that Sweetwater dozed80, or pretended to, and when it was at last done, the clock on the mantelpiece had struck two.
“Halloo there, now!” suddenly shouted the captain, turning on the messenger. “Are you ready for another journey?”
“That depends,” smiled Sweetwater, rising sleepily and advancing. “Haven’t got over the last one yet, and would rather sleep than start out again.”
“Oh, you want pay? Well, you’ll get that fast enough if you succeed in your mission. This letter” he shook it with an impatient hand —“should be worth two thousand five hundred dollars to me. If you bring me back that money or its equivalent within twenty-four hours, I will give you a clean hundred of it. Good enough pay, I take it, for five hours’ journey. Better than sleep, eh? Besides, you can doze10 on the cars.”
Sweetwater agreed with him in all these assertions. Putting on his cap, he reached for the letter. He didn’t like being made an instrument for blackmail81, but he was curious to see to whom he was about to be sent. But the captain had grown suddenly wary82.
“This is not a letter to be dropped in the mailbox,” said he. “You brought me a line here whose prompt delivery has prevented me from making a fool of myself to-night. You must do as much with this one. It is to be carried to its destination by yourself, given to the person whose name you will find written on it, and the answer brought back before you sleep, mind you, unless you snatch a wink or so on the cars. That it is night need not disturb you. It will be daylight before you arrive at the place to which this is addressed, and if you cannot get into the house at so early an hour, whistle three times like this — listen and one of the windows will presently fly up. You have had no trouble finding me; you’ll have no trouble finding him. When you return, hunt me up as you did to-night. Only you need not trouble yourself to look for me at Haberstow’s,” he added under his breath in a tone that was no doubt highly satisfactory to himself. “I shall not be there. And now, off with you!” he shouted. “You’ve your hundred dollars to make before daylight, and it’s already after two.”
Sweetwater, who had stolen a glimpse at the superscription on the letter he held, stumbled as he went out of the door. It was directed, as he had expected, to a Frederick, probably to the second one of whom Captain Wattles had spoken, but not, as he had expected, to a stranger. The name on the letter was Frederick Sutherland, and the place of his destination was Sutherlandtown.
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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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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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humble
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pretensions
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dingy
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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crooks
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| n.骗子( crook的名词复数 )；罪犯；弯曲部分；（牧羊人或主教用的）弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
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crooking
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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memorandum
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sling
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discretion
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momentary
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depot
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apprehension
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pebble
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bent
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juggled
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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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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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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propound
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| v.提出 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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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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efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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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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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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blustered
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| v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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offset
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| n.分支，补偿；v.抵消，补偿 | |
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pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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alphabetically
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| adv.照字母顺序排列地 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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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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riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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