“Whew!” cried Mortimer, mopping his forehead, “you’d pay five shillings for this at the hummums.”
“Precisely,” said Scott. “But you are not asked to ride twenty miles in a Turkish bath with a field-glass and a revolver, and a water-bottle and a whole Christmas-treeful of things dangling10 from you. The hot-house at Kew is excellent as a conservatory11, but not adapted for exhibitions upon the horizontal bar. I vote for a camp in the palm-grove12 and a halt until evening.”
Mortimer rose on his stirrups and looked hard to the southward. Everywhere were the same black burned rocks and deep orange sand. At one spot only an intermittent13 line appeared to have been cut through the rugged14 spurs which ran down to the river. It was the bed of the old railway, long destroyed by the Arabs, but now in process of reconstruction15 by the advancing Egyptians. There was no other sign of man’s handiwork in all that desolate16 scene.
“It’s palm trees or nothing,” said Scott.
“Well, I suppose we must; and yet I grudge17 every hour until we catch the force up. What would our editors say if we were late for the action?”
“My dear chap, an old bird like you doesn’t need to be told that no sane18 modern general would ever attack until the Press is up.”
“You don’t mean that?” said young Anerley. “I thought we were looked upon as an unmitigated nuisance.”
“‘Newspaper correspondents and travelling gentlemen, and all that tribe of useless drones’— being an extract from Lord Wolseley’s ‘Soldier’s Pocket-Book,’” cried Scott. “We know all about that, Anerley;” and he winked19 behind his blue spectacles. “If there was going to be a battle we should very soon have an escort of cavalry20 to hurry us up. I’ve been in fifteen, and I never saw one where they had not arranged for a reporter’s table.”
“That’s very well; but the enemy may be less considerate,” said Mortimer.
“They are not strong enough to force a battle.”
“A skirmish, then?”
“Much more likely to be a raid upon the rear. In that case we are just where we should be.”
“So we are! What a score over Reuter’s man up with the advance! Well, we’ll outspan and have our tiffin under the palms.”
There were three of them, and they stood for three great London dailies. Reuter’s was thirty miles ahead; two evening pennies upon camels were twenty miles behind. And among them they represented the eyes and ears of the public — the great silent millions and millions who had paid for everything, and who waited so patiently to know the result of their outlay21.
They were remarkable22 men these body-servants of the Press; two of them already veterans in camps, the other setting out upon his first campaign, and full of deference23 for his famous comrades.
This first one, who had just dismounted from his bay polo-pony24, was Mortimer, of the Intelligence — tall, straight, and hawk-faced, with khaki tunic25 and riding-breeches, drab putties, a scarlet26 cummerbund, and a skin tanned to the red of a Scotch27 fir by sun and wind, and mottled by the mosquito and the sand-fly. The other — small, quick, mercurial28, with blue-black, curling beard and hair, a fly-switch for ever flicking29 in his left hand — was Scott, of the Courier, who had come through more dangers and brought off more brilliant coups30 than any man in the profession, save the eminent31 Chandler, now no longer in a condition to take the field. They were a singular contrast, Mortimer and Scott, and it was in their differences that the secret of their close friendship lay. Each dovetailed into the other. The strength of each was in the other’s weakness. Together they formed a perfect unit. Mortimer was Saxon — slow, conscientious32, and deliberate; Scott was Celtic — quick, happy-go-lucky, and brilliant. Mortimer was the more solid, Scott the more attractive. Mortimer was the deeper thinker, Scott the brighter talker. By a curious coincidence, though each had seen much of warfare33, their campaigns had never coincided. Together they covered all recent military history. Scott had done Plevna, the Shipka, the Zulus, Egypt, Suakim; Mortimer had seen the Boer War, the Chilian, the Bulgaria and Servian, the Gordon relief, the Indian frontier, Brazilian rebellion, and Madagascar. This intimate personal knowledge gave a peculiar34 flavour to their talk. There was none of the second-hand35 surmise36 and conjecture37 which form so much of our conversation; it was all concrete and final. The speaker had been there, had seen it, and there was an end of it.
In spite of their friendship there was the keenest professional rivalry38 between the two men. Either would have sacrificed himself to help his companion, but either would also have sacrificed his companion to help his paper. Never did a jockey yearn39 for a winning mount as keenly as each of them longed to have a full column in a morning edition whilst every other daily was blank. They were perfectly40 frank about the matter. Each professed41 himself ready to steal a march on his neighbour, and each recognised that the other’s duty to his employer was far higher than any personal consideration.
The third man was Anerley, of the Gazette — young, inexperienced, and rather simple-looking. He had a droop42 of the lip, which some of his more intimate friends regarded as a libel upon his character, and his eyes were so slow and so sleepy that they suggested an affectation. A leaning towards soldiering had sent him twice to autumn manoeuvres, and a touch of colour in his descriptions had induced the proprietors44 of the Gazette to give him a trial as a war-special. There was a pleasing diffidence about his bearing which recommended him to his experienced companions, and if they had a smile sometimes at his guileless ways, it was soothing45 to them to have a comrade from whom nothing was to be feared. From the day that they left the telegraph-wire behind them at Sarras, the man who was mounted upon a 15-guinea 13-4 Syrian was delivered over into the hands of the owners of the two fastest polo-ponies46 that ever shot down the Ghezireh ground. The three had dismounted and led their beasts under the welcome shade. In the brassy, yellow glare every branch above threw so black and solid a shadow that the men involuntarily raised their feet to step over them.
“The palm makes an excellent hat-rack,” said Scott, slinging48 his revolver and his water-bottle over the little upward-pointing pegs49 which bristle51 from the trunk. “As a shade tree, however, it isn’t an unqualified success. Curious that in the universal adaptation of means to ends something a little less flimsy could not have been devised for the tropics.”
“Like the banyan52 in India.”
“Or the fine hardwood trees in Ashantee, where a whole regiment53 could picnic under the shade.”
“The teak tree isn’t bad in Burmah, either. By Jove, the baccy has all come loose in the saddle-bag! That long-cut mixture smokes rather hot for this climate. How about the baggles, Anerley?”
“They’ll be here in five minutes.”
Down the winding54 path which curved among the rocks the little train of baggage-camels was daintily picking its way. They came mincing55 and undulating along, turning their heads slowly from side to side with the air of a self-conscious woman. In front rode the three Berberee body-servants upon donkeys, and behind walked the Arab camel-boys. They had been travelling for nine long hours, ever since the first rising of the moon, at the weary camel-drag of two and a half miles an hour, but now they brightened, both beasts and men, at the sight of the grove and the riderless horses. In a few minutes the loads were unstrapped, the animals tethered, a fire lighted, fresh water carried up from the river, and each camel-boy provided with his own little heap of tibbin laid in the centre of the table-cloth, without which no well-bred Arabian will condescend57 to feed. The dazzling light without, the subdued58 half-tones within, the green palm-fronds outlined against the deep blue sky, the flitting, silent-footed Arab servants, the crackling of sticks, the reek59 of a lighting60 fire, the placid61 supercilious62 heads of the camels, they all come back in their dreams to those who have known them.
Scott was breaking eggs into a pan and rolling out a love-song in his rich, deep voice. Anerley, with his head and arms buried in a deal packing-case, was working his way through strata63 of tinned soups, bully64 beef, potted chicken, and sardines65 to reach the jams which lay beneath. The conscientious Mortimer, with his notebook upon his knee, was jotting66 down what the railway engineer had told him at the line-end the day before. Suddenly he raised his eyes and saw the man himself on his chestnut67 pony, dipping and rising over the broken ground.
“Hullo! Here’s Merryweather!”
“A pretty lather68 his pony is in! He’s had her at that hand-gallop for hours, by the look of her. Hullo, Merryweather, hullo!”
The engineer, a small, compact man with a pointed69 red beard, had made as though he would ride past their camp without word or halt. Now he swerved70, and easing his pony down to a canter, he headed her to-wards them.
“For God’s sake, a drink!” he croaked71. “My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.”
Mortimer ran with the water-bottle, Scott with the whisky-flask, and Anerley with the tin pannikin. The engineer drank until his breath failed him.
“Well, I must be off,” said he, striking the drops from his red moustache.
“Any news?”
“A hitch72 in the railway construction. I must see the general. It’s the devil not having a telegraph.”
“Anything we can report?” Out came three notebooks.
“I’ll tell you after I’ve seen the general.”
“Any dervishes?”
“The usual shaves. Hud-up, Jinny! Good-bye!”
With a soft thudding upon the sand, and a clatter73 among the stones the weary pony was off upon her journey once more.
“Nothing serious, I suppose?” said Mortimer, staring after him.
“Deuced serious,” cried Scott. “The ham and eggs are burned! No — it’s all right — saved, and done to a turn! Pull the box up, Anerley. Come on, Mortimer, stow that notebook! The fork is mightier74 than the pen just at present. What’s the matter with you, Anerley?”
“I was wondering whether what we have just seen was worth a telegram.”
“Well, it’s for the proprietors to say if it’s worth it. Sordid75 money considerations are not for us. We must wire about something just to justify76 our khaki coats and our putties.”
“But what is there to say?”
Mortimer’s long, austere77 face broke into a smile over the youngster’s innocence78. “It’s not quite usual in our profession to give each other tips,” said he. “However, as my telegram is written, I’ve no objection to your reading it. You may be sure that I would not show it to you if it were of the slightest importance.”
Anerley took up the slip of paper and read:—
Merryweather obstacles stop journey confer general stop nature difficulties later stop rumours79 dervishes.
“This is very condensed,” said Anerley, with wrinkled brows.
“Condensed!” cried Scott. “Why, it’s sinfully garrulous81. If my old man got a wire like that his language would crack the lamp-shades. I’d cut out half this; for example, I’d have out ‘journey,’ and ‘nature,’ and ‘rumours.’ But my old man would make a ten-line paragraph of it for all that.”
“How?”
“Well, I’ll do it myself just to show you. Lend me that stylo.” He scribbled82 for a minute in his notebook. “It works out somewhat on these lines”:—
Mr. Charles H. Merryweather, the eminent railway engineer, who is at present engaged in superintending the construction of the line from Sarras to the front, has met with considerable obstacles to the rapid completion of his important task —
“Of course the old man knows who Merryweather is, and what he is about, so the word ‘obstacles’ would suggest all that to him.”
He has today been compelled to make a journey of forty miles to the front, in order to confer with the general upon the steps which are necessary in order to facilitate the work. Further particulars of the exact nature of the difficulties met with will be made public at a later date. All is quiet upon the line of communications, though the usual persistent83 rumours of the presence of dervishes in the Eastern desert continue to circulate.— Our own correspondent.
“How’s that?” cried Scott, triumphantly84, and his white teeth gleamed suddenly through his black beard. “That’s the sort of flapdoodle for the dear old public.”
“Will it interest them?”
“Oh, everything interests them. They want to know all about it; and they like to think that there is a man who is getting a hundred a month simply in order to tell it to them.”
“It’s very kind of you to teach me all this.”
“Well, it is a little unconventional, for, after all, we are here to score over each other if we can. There are no more eggs, and you must take it out in jam. Of course, as Mortimer says, such a telegram as this is of no importance one way or another, except to prove to the office that we are in the Soudan, and not at Monte Carlo. But when it comes to serious work it must be every man for himself.”
“Is that quite necessary?”
“Why, of course it is.”
“I should have thought if three men were to combine and to share their news, they would do better than if they were each to act for himself, and they would have a much pleasanter time of it.”
The two older men sat with their bread-and-jam in their hands, and an expression of genuine disgust upon their faces.
“We are not here to have a pleasant time,” said Mortimer, with a flash through his glasses. “We are here to do our best for our papers. How can they score over each other if we do not do the same? If we all combine we might as well amalgamate85 with Reuter at once.”
“Why, it would take away the whole glory of the profession!” cried Scott. “At present the smartest man gets his stuff first on the wires. What inducement is there to be smart if we all share and share alike?”
“And at present the man with the best equipment has the best chance,” remarked Mortimer, glancing across at the shot-silk polo ponies and the cheap little Syrian grey. “That is the fair reward of foresight86 and enterprise. Every man for himself, and let the best man win.”
“That’s the way to find who the best man is. Look at Chandler. He would never have got his chance if he had not played always off his own bat. You’ve heard how he pretended to break his leg, sent his fellow-correspondent off for the doctor, and so got a fair start for the telegraph-office.”
“Do you mean to say that was legitimate87?”
“Everything is legitimate. It’s your wits against my wits.”
“I should call it dishonourable.”
“You may call it what you like. Chandler’s paper got the battle and the other’s didn’t. It made Chandler’s name.”
“Or take Westlake,” said Mortimer, cramming88 the tobacco into his pipe. “Hi, Abdul, you may have the dishes! Westlake brought his stuff down by pretending to be the Government courier, and using the relays of Government horses. Westlake’s paper sold half a million.”
“Is that legitimate also?” asked Anerley, thoughtfully.
“Why not?”
“Well, it looks a little like horse-stealing and lying.”
“Well, I think I should do a little horse-stealing and lying if I could have a column to myself in a London daily. What do you say, Scott?”
“Anything short of manslaughter.”
“And I’m not sure that I’d trust you there.”
“Well, I don’t think I should be guilty of newspaper-man-slaughter. That I regard as a distinct breach89 of professional etiquette90. But if any outsider comes between a highly charged correspondent and an electric wire, he does it at his peril91. My dear Anerley, I tell you frankly92 that if you are going to handicap yourself with scruple93 you may just as well be in Fleet Street as in the Soudan. Our life is irregular. Our work has never been systematised. No doubt it will be some day, but the time is not yet. Do what you can and how you can, and be first on the wires; that’s my advice to you; and also, that when next you come upon a campaign you bring with you the best horse that money can buy. Mortimer may beat me or I may beat Mortimer, but at least we know that between us we have the fastest ponies in the country. We have neglected no chance.”
“I am not so certain of that,” said Mortimer, slowly. “You are aware, of course, that though a horse beats a camel on twenty miles, a camel beats a horse on thirty.”
“What, one of those camels?” cried Anerley in astonishment94. The two seniors burst out laughing.
“No, no, the real high-bred trotter — the kind of beast the dervishes ride when they make their lightning raids.”
“Faster than a galloping96 horse?” “Well, it tires a horse down. It goes the same gait all the way, and it wants neither halt nor drink, and it takes rough ground much better than a horse. They used to have long distance races at Haifa, and the camel always won at thirty.”
“Still, we need not reproach ourselves, Scott, for we are not very likely to have to carry a thirty-mile message, they will have the field telegraph next week.”
“Quite so. But at the present moment —”
“I know, my dear chap; but there is no motion of urgency before the house. Load baggles at five o’clock; so you have Just three hours clear. Any sign of the evening pennies?”
Mortimer swept the northern horizon with his binoculars97. “Not in sight yet.”
“They are quite capable of travelling during the heat of the day. Just the sort of thing evening pennies would do. Take care of your match, Anerley. These palm groves98 go up like a powder magazine if you set them alight. Bye-bye.” The two men crawled under their mosquito-nets and sank instantly into the easy sleep of those whose lives are spent in the open.
Young Anerley stood with his back against a palm tree and his briar between his lips, thinking over the advice which he had received. After all, they were the heads of the profession, these men, and it was not for him, the newcomer, to reform their methods. If they served their papers in this fashion, then he must do the same. They had at least been frank and generous in teaching him the rules of the game. If it was good enough for them it was good enough for him.
It was a broiling99 afternoon, and those thin frills of foam round the black, glistening100 necks of the Nile boulders looked delightfully101 cool and alluring103. But it would not be safe to bathe for some hours to come. The air shimmered104 and vibrated over the baking stretch of sand and rock. There was not a breath of wind, and the droning and piping of the insects inclined one for sleep. Somewhere above a hoopoe was calling. Anerley knocked out his ashes, and was turning towards his couch, when his eye caught something moving in the desert to the south. It was a horseman riding towards them as swiftly as the broken ground would permit. A messenger from the army, thought Anerley; and then, as he watched, the sun suddenly struck the man on the side of the head, and his chin flamed into gold. There could not be two horsemen with beards of such a colour. It was Merryweather, the engineer, and he was returning. What on earth was he returning for? He had been so keen to see the general, and yet he was coming back with his mission unaccomplished. Was it that his pony was hopelessly foundered107? It seemed to be moving well. Anerley picked up Mortimer’s binoculars, and a foam-bespattered horse and a weary koorbash-cracking man came cantering up the centre of the field. But there was nothing in his appearance to explain the mystery of his return. Then as he watched them they dipped into a hollow and disappeared. He could see that it was one of those narrow khors which led to the river, and he waited, glass in hand, for their immediate108 reappearance. But minute passed after minute and there was no sign of them. That narrow gully appeared to have swallowed them up. And then with a curious gulp109 and start he saw a little grey cloud wreathe itself slowly from among the rocks and drift in a long, hazy110 shred111 over the desert. In an instant he had torn Scott and Mortimer from their slumbers112.
“Get up, you chaps!” he cried. “I believe Merryweather has been shot by dervishes.”
“And Reuter not here!” cried the two veterans, exultantly113 clutching at their notebooks. “Merryweather shot! Where? When? How?”
In a few words Anerley explained what he had seen.
“You heard nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, a shot loses itself very easily among rocks. By George, look at the buzzards!”
Two large brown birds were soaring in the deep blue heaven. As Scott spoke114 they circled down and dropped into the little khor.
“That’s good enough,” said Mortimer, with his nose between the leaves of his book. “‘Merryweather headed dervishes stop return stop shot mutilated stop raid communications.’ How’s that?”
“You think he was headed off?”
“Why else should he return?”
“In that case, if they were out in front of him and others cut him off, there must be several small raiding parties.”
“I should judge so.”
“How about the ‘mutilated’?”
“I’ve fought against Arabs before.”
“Where are you off to?”
“Sarras.”
“I think I’ll race you in,” said Scott.
Anerley stared in astonishment at the absolutely impersonal115 way in which these men regarded the situation. In their zeal116 for news it had apparently117 never struck them that they, their camp, and their servants were all in the lion’s mouth. But even as they talked there came the harsh, importunate118 rat-tat-tat of an irregular volley from among the rocks, and the high, keening whistle of bullets over their heads. A palm spray fluttered down amongst them. At the same instant the six frightened servants came running wildly in for protection.
It was the cool-headed Mortimer who organised the defence, for Scott’s Celtic soul was so aflame at all this “copy” in hand and more to come that he was too exuberantly119 boisterous120 for a commander. The other, with his spectacles and his stern face, soon had the servants in hand. “Tali henna! Egri! What the deuce are you frightened about? Put the camels between the palm trunks. That’s right. Now get the knee-tethers on them. Quies! Did you never hear bullets before? Now put the donkeys here. Not much — you don’t get my polo-pony to make a zareba with. Picket121 the ponies between the grove and the river out of danger’s way. These fellows seem to fire even higher than they did in ‘85.”
“That’s got home, anyhow,” said Scott, as they heard a soft, splashing thud like a stone in a mud-bank.
“Who’s hit, then?”
“The brown camel that’s chewing the cud.” As he spoke the creature, its jaw122 still working, laid its long neck along the ground and closed its large dark eyes.
“That shot cost me 15 pounds,” said Mortimer, ruefully. “How many of them do you make?”
“Four, I think.”
“Only four Bezingers, at any rate; there may be some spearmen.”
“I think not; it is a little raiding-party of rifle-men. By the way, Anerley, you’ve never been under fire before, have you?”
“Never,” said the young pressman, who was conscious of a curious feeling of nervous elation123.
“Love and poverty and war, they are all experiences necessary to make a complete life. Pass over those cartridges124. This is a very mild baptism that you are undergoing, for behind these camels you are as safe as if you were sitting in the back room of the Authors’ Club.”
“As safe, but hardly as comfortable,” said Scott. “A long glass of hock and seltzer would be exceedingly acceptable. But oh, Mortimer, what a chance! Think of the general’s feelings when he hears that the first action of the war has been fought by the Press column. Think of Reuter, who has been stewing125 at the front for a week! Think of the evening pennies just too late for the fun. By George, that slug brushed a mosquito off me!”
“And one of the donkeys is hit.”
“This is sinful. It will end in our having to carry our own kits126 to Khartoum.”
“Never mind, my boy, it all goes to make copy. I can see the headlines —‘Raid on Communications’; ‘Murder of British Engineer’: ‘Press Column Attacked.’ Won’t it be ripping?”
“I wonder what the next line will be,” said Anerley.
“‘Our Special Wounded’!” cried Scott, rolling over on to his back. “No harm done,” he added, gathering127 himself up again; “only a chip off my knee. This is getting sultry. I confess that the idea of that back room at the Authors’ Club begins to grow upon me.”
“I have some diachylon.”
“Afterwards will do. We’re having a ‘appy day with Fuzzy on the rush. I wish he would rush.”
“They’re coming nearer.”
“This is an excellent revolver of mine if it didn’t throw so devilish high. I always aim at a man’s toes if I want to stimulate128 his digestion129. O Lord, there’s our kettle gone!” With a boom like a dinner-gong a Remington bullet had passed through the kettle, and a cloud of steam hissed130 up from the fire. A wild shout came from the rocks above.
“The idiots think that they have blown us up. They’ll rush us now, as sure as fate; then it will be our turn to lead. Got your revolver, Anerley?”
“I have this double-barrelled fowling-piece.”
“Sensible man! It’s the best weapon in the world at this sort of rough-and-tumble work. What cartridges?”
“Swan-shot.”
“That will do all right. I carry this big bore double-barrelled pistol loaded with slugs. You might as well try to stop one of these fellows with a pea-shooter as with a service revolver.”
“There are ways and means,” said Scott. “The Geneva Convention does not hold south of the first cataract. It’s easy to make a bullet mushroom by a little manipulation of the tip of it. When I was in the broken square at Tamai —”
“Wait a bit,” cried Mortimer, adjusting his glasses. “I think they are coming now.”
“The time,” said Scott, snapping up his watch, “being exactly seventeen minutes past four.”
Anerley had been lying behind a camel staring with an interest which bordered upon fascination131 at the rocks opposite. Here was a little woolly puff132 of smoke, and there was another one, but never once had they caught a glimpse of the attackers. To him there was something weird133 and awesome134 in these unseen, persistent men who, minute by minute, were drawing closer to them. He had heard them cry out when the kettle was broken, and once, immediately afterwards, an enormously strong voice had roared something which had set Scott shrugging his shoulders.
“They’ve got to take us first,” said he, and Anerley thought his nerve might be better if he did not ask for a translation.
The firing had begun at a distance of some 100 yards, which put it out of the question for them, with their lighter135 weapons, to make any reply to it. Had their antagonists136 continued to keep that range the defenders137 must either have made a hopeless sally or tried to shelter themselves behind their zareba as best they might on the chance that the sound might bring up help. But, luckily for them, the African has never taken kindly138 to the rifle, and his primitive139 instinct to close with his enemy is always too strong for his sense of strategy. They were drawing in, therefore, and now, for the first time, Anerley caught sight of a face looking at them from over a rock. It was a huge, virile140, strong-jawed head of a pure negro type, with silver trinkets gleaming in the ears. The man raised a great arm from behind the rock, and shook his Remington at them.
“Shall I fire?” asked Anerley.
“No, no; it is too far. Your shot would scatter141 all over the place.”
“It’s a picturesque142 ruffian,” said Scott. “Couldn’t you kodak him, Mortimer? There’s another!” A fine-featured brown Arab, with a black, pointed beard, was peeping from behind another boulder6. He wore the green turban which proclaimed him hadji, and his face showed the keen, nervous exultation143 of the religious fanatic144.
“They seem a piebald crowd,” said Scott.
“That last is one of the real fighting Baggara,” remarked Mortimer. “He’s a dangerous man.”
“He looks pretty vicious. There’s another negro!”
“Two more! Dingas, by the look of them. Just the same chaps we get our own black battalions145 from. As long as they get a fight they don’t mind who it’s for; but if the idiots had only sense enough to understand, they would know that the Arab is their hereditary146 enemy, and we their hereditary friends. Look at the silly juggins, gnashing his teeth at the very men who put down the slave trade!”
“Couldn’t you explain?”
“I’ll explain with this pistol when he comes a little nearer. Now sit tight, Anerley. They’re off!”
They were indeed. It was the brown man with the green turban who headed the rush. Close at his heels was the negro with the silver ear-rings — a giant of a man, and the other two were only a little behind. As they sprang over the rocks one after the other, it took Anerley back to the school sports when he held the tape for the hurdle-race. It was magnificent, the wild spirit and abandon of it, the flutter of the chequered galabeeahs, the gleam of steel, the wave of black arms, the frenzied147 faces, the quick pitter-patter of the rushing feet. The law-abiding Briton is so imbued148 with the idea of the sanctity of human life that it was hard for the young pressman to realise that these men had every intention of killing149 him, and that he was at perfect liberty to do as much for them. He lay staring as if this were a show and he a spectator.
“Now, Anerley, now! Take the Arab!” cried somebody.
He put up the gun and saw the brown fierce face at the other end of the barrel. He tugged150 at the trigger, but the face grew larger and fiercer with every stride. Again and again he tugged. A revolver-shot rang out at his elbow, then another one, and he saw a red spot spring out on the Arab’s brown breast. But he was still coming on.
“Shoot, you ass9, shoot!” screamed Scott.
Again he strained unavailingly at the trigger. There were two more pistol-shots, and the big negro had fallen and risen and fallen again.
“Cock it, you fool!” shouted a furious voice; and at the same instant, with a rush and flutter, the Arab bounded over the prostrate151 camel and came down with his bare feet upon Anerley’s chest. In a dream he seemed to be struggling frantically152 with someone upon the ground, then he was conscious of a tremendous explosion in his very face, and so ended for him the first action of the war.
“Good-bye, old chap. You’ll be all right. Give yourself time.” It was Mortimer’s voice, and he became dimly conscious of a long, spectacled face, and of a heavy hand upon his shoulder.
“Sorry to leave you. We’ll be lucky now if we are in time for the morning editions.” Scott was tightening153 his girth as he spoke.
“We’ll put in our wire that you have been hurt, so your people will know why they don’t hear from you. If Reuter or the evening pennies come up, don’t give the thing away. Abbas will look after you, and we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Bye-bye!”
Anerley heard it all, though he did not feel energy enough to answer. Then, as he watched two sleek154, brown ponies with their yellow-clad riders dwindling155 among the rocks, his memory cleared suddenly, and he realised that the first great journalistic chance of his life was slipping away from him. It was a small fight, but it was the first of the war, and the great public at home were all athirst for news. They would have it in the Courier; they would have it in the Intelligence, and not a word in the Gazette. The thought brought him to his feet, though he had to throw his arm round the stem of the palm tree to steady his swimming head. There was a big black man lying where he had fallen, his huge chest pocked with bullet-marks, every wound rosetted with its circle of flies. The Arab was stretched out within a few yards of him, with two hands clasped over the dreadful thing which had been his head. Across him was lying Anerley’s fowling-piece, one barrel discharged, the other at half cock.
“Scott effendi shoot him your gun,” said a voice. It was Abbas, his English-speaking body-servant.
Anerley groaned156 at the disgrace of it. He had lost his head so completely that he had forgotten to cock his gun; and yet he knew that it was not fear but interest which had so absorbed him. He put his hand up to his head and felt that a wet handkerchief was bound round his forehead.
“Where are the two other dervishes?”
“They ran away. One got shot in arm.”
“What’s happened to me?”
“Effendi got cut on head. Effendi catch bad man by arms, and Scott effendi shot him. Face burn very bad.”
Anerley became conscious suddenly that there was a pringling about his skin and an overpowering smell of burned hair under his nostrils157. He put his hand to his moustache. It was gone. His eyebrows159 too? He could not find them. His head, no doubt, was very near to the dervish’s when they were rolling upon the ground together, and this was the effect of the explosion of his own gun. Well, he would have time to grow some more hair before he saw Fleet Street again. But the cut, perhaps, was a more serious matter. Was it enough to prevent him getting to the telegraph-office at Sarras? The only way was to try and see. But there was only that poor little Syrian grey of his. There it stood in the evening sunshine, with a sunk head and a bent160 knee, as if its morning’s work was still heavy upon it. What hope was there of being able to do thirty-five miles of heavy going upon that? It would be a strain upon the splendid ponies of his companions — and they were the swiftest and most enduring in the country. The most enduring? There was one creature more enduring, and that was a real trotting161 camel. If he had had one he might have got to the wires first after all, for Mortimer had said that over thirty miles they have the better of any horse. Yes, if he had only had a real trotting camel! And then like a flash came Mortimer’s words, “It is the kind of beast that the dervishes ride when they make their lightning raids.”
The beasts the dervishes ride! What had these dead dervishes ridden? In an instant he was clambering up the rocks, with Abbas protesting at his heels. Had the two fugitives162 carried away all the camels, or had they been content to save themselves? The brass47 gleam from a litter of empty Remington cases caught his eye, and showed where the enemy had been crouching163. And then he could have shouted for joy, for there, in the hollow, some little distance off, rose the high, graceful164 white neck and the elegant head of such a camel as he had never set eyes upon before — a swanlike, beautiful creature, as far from the rough, clumsy baggles as the cart-horse is from the racer.
The beast was kneeling under the shelter of the rocks with its waterskin and bag of doora slung165 over its shoulders, and its forelegs tethered Arab fashion with a rope around the knees. Anerley threw his leg over the front pommel while Abbas slipped off the cord. Forward flew Anerley towards the creature’s neck, then violently backwards166, clawing madly at anything which might save him, and then, with a jerk which nearly snapped his loins, he was thrown forward again. But the camel was on its legs now, and the young pressman was safely seated upon one of the fliers of the desert. It was as gentle as it was swift, and it stood oscillating its long neck and gazing round with its large brown eyes, whilst Anerley coiled his legs round the peg50 and grasped the curved camel-stick which Abbas had handed up to him. There were two bridle-cords, one from the nostril158 and one from the neck, but he remembered that Scott had said that it was the servant’s and not the house-bell which had to be pulled, so he kept his grasp upon the lower. Then he touched the long, vibrating neck with his stick, and in an instant Abbas’ farewell seemed to come from far behind him, and the black rocks and yellow sand were dancing past on either side.
It was his first experience of a trotting camel, and at first the motion, although irregular and abrupt167, was not unpleasant. Having no stirrup or fixed168 point of any kind, he could not rise to it, but he gripped as tightly as be could with his knee, and he tried to sway backwards and forwards as he had seen the Arabs do. It was a large, very concave Makloofa saddle, and he was conscious that he was bouncing about on it with as little power of adhesion as a billiard-ball upon a tea-tray. He gripped the two sides with his hands to hold himself steady. The creature had got into its long, swinging, stealthy trot95, its sponge-like feet making no sound upon the hard sand. Anerley leaned back with his two hands gripping hard behind him, and he whooped169 the creature on. The sun had already sunk behind the line of black volcanic170 peaks, which look like huge slag-heaps at the mouth of a mine. The western sky had taken that lovely light green and pale pink tint171 which makes evening beautiful upon the Nile, and the old brown river itself, swirling172 down amongst the black rocks, caught some shimmer105 of the colours above. The glare, the heat, and the piping of the insects had all ceased together. In spite of his aching head, Anerley could have cried out for pure physical joy as the swift creature beneath him flew along with him through that cool, invigorating air, with the virile north wind soothing his pringling face.
He had looked at his watch, and now he made a swift calculation of times and distances. It was past six when he had left the camp. Over broken ground it was impossible that he could hope to do more than seven miles an hour — less on bad parts, more on the smooth. His recollection of the track was that there were few smooth and many bad. He would be lucky, then, if he reached Sarras anywhere from twelve to one. Then the messages took a good two hours to go through, for they had to be transcribed173 at Cairo. At the best he could only hope to have told his story in Fleet Street at two or three in the morning. It was possible that he might manage it, but the chances seemed enormously against him. About three the morning edition would be made up, and his chance gone for ever. The one thing clear was that only the first man at the wires would have any chance at all, and Anerley meant to be first if hard riding could do it. So he tapped away at the bird-like neck, and the creature’s long, loose limbs went faster and faster at every tap. Where the rocky spurs ran down to the river, horses would have to go round, while camels might get across, so that Anerley felt that he was always gaining upon his companions.
But there was a price to be paid for the feeling. He had heard of men who had burst when on camel journeys, and he knew that the Arabs swathe their bodies tightly in broad cloth bandages when they prepare for a long march. It had seemed unnecessary and ridiculous when he first began to speed over the level track, but now, when he got on the rocky paths, he understood what it meant. Never for an instant was he at the same angle. Backwards, forwards he swung, with a tingling174 jar at the end of each sway, until he ached from his neck to his knees. It caught him across the shoulders, it caught him down the spine175, it gripped him over the loins, it marked the lower line of his ribs176 with one heavy, dull throb177. He clutched here and there with his hand to try and ease the strain upon his muscles. He drew up his knees, altered his seat, and set his teeth with a grim determination to go through with it should it kill him. His head was splitting, his flayed178 face smarting, and every joint179 in his body aching as if it were dislocated. But he forgot all that when, with the rising of the moon, he heard the clinking of horses’ hoofs180 down upon the track by the river, and knew that, unseen by them, he had already got well abreast181 of his companions. But he was hardly halfway182, and the time already eleven.
All day the needles had been ticking away without intermission in the little corrugated183 iron hut which served as a telegraph station at Sarras. With its bare walls and its packing-case seats, it was none the less for the moment one of the vital spots upon the earth’s surface, and the crisp, importunate ticking might have come from the world-old clock of Destiny. Many august people had been at the other end of those wires, and had communed with the moist-faced military clerk. A French Premier184 had demanded a pledge, and an English marquis had passed on the request to the General in command, with a question as to how it would affect the situation. Cipher185 telegrams had nearly driven the clerk out of his wits, for of all crazy occupations the taking of a cipher message, when you are without the key to the cipher, is the worst. Much high diplomacy186 had been going on all day in the innermost chambers188 of European chancellories, and the results of it had been whispered into this little corrugated-iron hut. About two in the morning an enormous despatch189 had come at last to an end, and the weary operator had opened the door, and was lighting his pipe in the cool, fresh air, when he saw a camel plump down in the dust, and a man, who seemed to be in the last stage of drunkenness, come rolling towards him.
“What’s the time?” he cried, in a voice which appeared to be the only sober thing about him.
It was on the clerk’s lips to say that it was time that the questioner was in his bed, but it is not safe upon a campaign to be ironical190 at the expense of khaki-clad men. He contented191 himself, therefore, with the bald statement that it was after two. But no retort that he could have devised could have had a more crushing effect. The voice turned drunken also, and the man caught at the door-post to uphold him.
“Two o’clock! I’m done after all!” said he. His head was tied up in a bloody192 handkerchief, his face was crimson193, and he stood with his legs crooked194 as if the pith had all gone out of his back. The clerk began to realise that something out of the ordinary was in the wind.
“How long does it take to get a wire to London?”
“About two hours.”
“And it’s two now. I could not get it there before four.”
“Before three.”
“Four.”
“No, three.”
“But you said two hours.”
“Yes, but there’s more than an hour’s difference in longitude195.”
“By Heaven, I’ll do it yet!” cried Anerley, and staggering to a packing-case, he began the dictation of his famous despatch.
And so it came about that the Gazette had a long column, with headlines like an epitaph, when the sheets of the Intelligence and the Courier were as blank as the faces of their editors. And so, too, it happened that when two weary men, upon two foundered horses, arrived about four in the morning at the Sarras post-office, they looked at each other in silence and departed noiselessly, with the conviction that there are some situations with which the English language is not capable of dealing196.
The New Catacomb
“Look here, Burger,” said Kennedy, “I do wish that you would confide197 in me.”
The two famous students of Roman remains198 sat together in Kennedy’s comfortable room overlooking the Corso. The night was cold, and they had both pulled up their chairs to the unsatisfactory Italian stove which threw out a zone of stuffiness199 rather than of warmth.
Outside under the bright winter stars lay the modern Rome, the long, double chain of the electric lamps, the brilliantly lighted cafes, the rushing carriages, and the dense80 throng200 upon the footpaths201. But inside, in the sumptuous202 chamber187 of the rich young English archaeologist, there was only old Rome to be seen. Cracked and time-worn friezes203 hung upon the walls, grey old busts204 of senators and soldiers with their fighting heads and their hard, cruel faces peered out from the corners. On the centre table, amidst a litter of inscriptions205, fragments, and ornaments206, there stood the famous reconstruction by Kennedy of the Baths of Caracalla, which excited such interest and admiration207 when it was exhibited in Berlin.
Amphorae hung from the ceiling, and a litter of curiosities strewed208 the rich red Turkey carpet. And of them all there was not one which was not of the most unimpeachable209 authenticity210, and of the utmost rarity and value; for Kennedy, though little more than thirty, had a European reputation in this particular branch of research, and was, moreover, provided with that long purse which either proves to be a fatal handicap to the student’s energies, or, if his mind is still true to its purpose, gives him an enormous advantage in the race for fame. Kennedy had often been seduced211 by whim212 and pleasure from his studies, but his mind was an incisive213 one, capable of long and concentrated efforts which ended in sharp reactions of sensuous214 languor215. His handsome face, with its high, white forehead, its aggressive nose, and its somewhat loose and sensuous mouth, was a fair index of the compromise between strength and weakness in his nature.
Of a very different type was his companion, Julius Burger. He came of a curious blend, a German father and an Italian mother, with the robust216 qualities of the North mingling217 strangely with the softer graces of the South. Blue Teutonic eyes lightened his sun-browned face, and above them rose a square, massive forehead, with a fringe of close yellow curls lying round it. His strong, firm jaw was clean-shaven, and his companion had frequently remarked how much it suggested those old Roman busts which peered out from the shadows in the corners of his chamber. Under its bluff218 German strength there lay always a suggestion of Italian subtlety219, but the smile was so honest, and the eyes so frank, that one understood that this was only an indication of his ancestry220, with no actual bearing upon his character.
In age and in reputation he was on the same level as his English companion, but his life and his work had both been far more arduous221. Twelve years before he had come as a poor student to Rome, and had lived ever since upon some small endowment for research which had been awarded to him by the University of Bonn.
Painfully, slowly, and doggedly222, with extraordinary tenacity223 and singlemindedness, he had climbed from rung to rung of the ladder of fame, until now he was a member of the Berlin Academy, and there was every reason to believe that he would shortly be promoted to the Chair of the greatest of German Universities. But the singleness of purpose which had brought him to the same high level as the rich and brilliant Englishman, had caused him in everything outside their work to stand infinitely224 below him. He had never found a pause in his studies in which to cultivate the social graces. It was only when he spoke of his own subject that his face was filled with life and soul. At other times he was silent and embarrassed, too conscious of his own limitations in larger subjects, and impatient of that small talk which is the conventional refuge of those who have no thoughts to express.
And yet for some years there had been an acquaintanceship which appeared to be slowly ripening225 into a friendship between these two very different rivals. The base and origin of this lay in the fact that in their own studies each was the only one of the younger men who had knowledge and enthusiasm enough to properly appreciate the other. Their common interests and pursuits had brought them together, and each had been attracted by the other’s knowledge. And then gradually something had been added to this. Kennedy had been amused by the frankness and simplicity226 of his rival, while Burger in turn had been fascinated by the brilliancy and vivacity227 which had made Kennedy such a favourite in Roman society. I say “had,” because just at the moment the young Englishman was somewhat under a cloud.
A love affair, the details of which had never quite come out, had indicated a heartlessness and callousness228 upon his part which shocked many of his friends. But in the bachelor circles of students and artists in which he preferred to move there is no very rigid229 code of honour in such matters, and though a head might be shaken or a pair of shoulders shrugged230 over the flight of two and the return of one, the general sentiment was probably one of curiosity and perhaps of envy rather than of reprobation231.
“Look here, Burger,” said Kennedy, looking hard at the placid face of his companion, “I do wish that you would confide in me.”
As he spoke he waved his hand in the direction of a rug which lay upon the floor.
On the rug stood a long, shallow fruit-basket of the light wicker-work which is used in the Campagna, and this was heaped with a litter of objects, inscribed232 tiles, broken inscriptions, cracked mosaics233, torn papyri, rusty234 metal ornaments, which to the uninitiated might have seemed to have come straight from a dustman’s bin56, but which a specialist would have speedily recognized as unique of their kind.
The pile of odds235 and ends in the flat wicker-work basket supplied exactly one of those missing links of social development which are of such interest to the student. It was the German who had brought them in, and the Englishman’s eyes were hungry as he looked at them.
“I won’t interfere236 with your treasure-trove, but I should very much like to hear about it,” he continued, while Burger very deliberately237 lit a cigar. “It is evidently a discovery of the first importance. These inscriptions will make a sensation throughout Europe.”
“For every one here there are a million there!” said the German. “There are so many that a dozen savants might spend a lifetime over them, and build up a reputation as solid as the Castle of St. Angelo.”
Kennedy was thinking with his fine forehead wrinkled and his fingers playing with his long, fair moustache.
“You have given yourself away, Burger!” said he at last. “Your words can only apply to one thing. You have discovered a new catacomb.”
“I had no doubt that you had already come to that conclusion from an examination of these objects.”
“Well, they certainly appeared to indicate it, but your last remarks make it certain. There is no place except a catacomb which could contain so vast a store of relics238 as you describe.”
“Quite so. There is no mystery about that. I have discovered a new catacomb.”
“Where?”
“Ah, that is my secret, my dear Kennedy! Suffice it that it is so situated239 that there is not one chance in a million of anyone else coming upon it. Its date is different from that of any known catacomb, and it has been reserved for the burial of the highest Christians240, so that the remains and the relics are quite different from anything which has ever been seen before. If I was not aware of your knowledge and of your energy, my friend, I would not hesitate, under the pledge of secrecy242, to tell you everything about it. But as it is I think that I must certainly prepare my own report of the matter before I expose myself to such formidable competition.”
Kennedy loved his subject with a love which was almost a mania243 — a love which held him true to it, amidst all the distractions244 which come to a wealthy and dissipated young man. He had ambition, but his ambition was secondary to his mere106 abstract joy and interest in everything which concerned the old life and history of the city. He yearned245 to see this new underworld which his companion had discovered.
“Look here, Burger,” said he, earnestly, “I assure you that you can trust me most implicitly246 in the matter. Nothing would induce me to put pen to paper about anything which I see until I have your express permission. I quite understand your feeling, and I think it is most natural, but you have really nothing whatever to fear from me. On the other hand, if you don’t tell me I shall make a systematic247 search, and I shall most certainly discover it. In that case, of course, I should make what use I liked of it, since I should be under no obligation to you.”
Burger smiled thoughtfully over his cigar.
“I have noticed, friend Kennedy,” said he, “that when I want information over any point you are not always so ready to supply it.”
“When did you ever ask me anything that I did not tell you? You remember, for example, my giving you the material for your paper about the temple of the Vestals.”
“Ah, well, that was not a matter of much importance. If I were to question you upon some intimate thing, would you give me an answer, I wonder! This new catacomb is a very intimate thing to me, and I should certainly expect some sign of confidence in return.”
“What you are driving at I cannot imagine,” said the Englishman, “but if you mean that you will answer my question about the catacomb if I answer any question which you may put to me, I can assure you that I will certainly do so.”
“Well, then,” said Burger, leaning luxuriously248 back in his settee, and puffing249 a blue tree of cigar-smoke into the air, “tell me all about your relations with Miss Mary Saunderson.”
Kennedy sprang up in his chair and glared angrily at his impassive companion.
“What the devil do you mean?” he cried. “What sort of a question is this? You may mean it as a joke, but you never made a worse one.”
“No, I don’t mean it as a joke,” said Burger, simply. “I am really rather interested in the details of the matter. I don’t know much about the world and women and social life and that sort of thing, and such an incident has the fascination of the unknown for me. I know you, and I knew her by sight — I had even spoken to her once or twice. I should very much like to hear from your own lips exactly what it was which occurred between you.”
“I won’t tell you a word.”
“That’s all right. It was only my whim to see if you would give up a secret as easily as you expected me to give up my secret of the new catacomb. You wouldn’t, and I didn’t expect you to. But why should you expect otherwise of me? There’s St. John’s clock striking ten. It is quite time that I was going home.”
“No, wait a bit, Burger,” said Kennedy; “this is really a ridiculous caprice of yours to wish to know about an old love affair which has burned out months ago. You know we look upon a man who kisses and tells as the greatest coward and villain250 possible.”
“Certainly,” said the German, gathering up his basket of curiosities, “when he tells anything about a girl which is previously251 unknown, he must be so. But in this case, as you must be aware, it was a public matter which was the common talk of Rome, so that you are not really doing Miss Mary Saunderson any injury by discussing her case with me. But still, I respect your scruples252; and so good night!”
“Wait a bit, Burger,” said Kennedy, laying his hand upon the other’s arm; “I am very keen upon this catacomb business, and I can’t let it drop quite so easily. Would you mind asking me something else in return — something not quite so eccentric this time?”
“No, no; you have refused, and there is an end of it,” said Burger, with his basket on his arm. “No doubt you are quite right not to answer, and no doubt I am quite right also — and so again, my dear Kennedy, good night!”
The Englishman watched Burger cross the room, and he had his hand on the handle of the door before his host sprang up with the air of a man who is making the best of that which cannot be helped. “Hold on, old fellow,” said he. “I think you are behaving in a most ridiculous fashion, but still, if this is your condition, I suppose that I must submit to it. I hate saying anything about a girl, but, as you say, it is all over Rome, and I don’t suppose I can tell you anything which you do not know already. What was it you wanted to know?”
The German came back to the stove, and, laying down his basket, he sank into his chair once more. “May I have another cigar?” said he. “Thank you very much! I never smoke when I work, but I enjoy a chat much more when I am under the influence of tobacco. Now, as regards this young lady, with whom you had this little adventure. What in the world has become of her?”
“She is at home with her own people.”
“Oh, really — in England?”
“Yes.”
“What part of England — London?”
“No, Twickenham.”
“You must excuse my curiosity, my dear Kennedy, and you must put it down to my ignorance of the world. No doubt it is quite a simple thing to persuade a young lady to go off with you for three weeks or so, and then to hand her over to her own family at — what did you call the place?”
“Twickenham.”
“Quite so — at Twickenham. But it is something so entirely253 outside my own experience that I cannot even imagine how you set about it. For example, if you had loved this girl your love could hardly disappear in three weeks, so I presume that you could not have loved her at all. But if you did not love her why should you make this great scandal which has damaged you and ruined her?”
Kennedy looked moodily254 into the red eye of the stove. “That’s a logical way of looking at it, certainly,” said he. “Love is a big word, and it represents a good many different shades of feeling. I liked her, and — well, you say you’ve seen her — you know how charming she can look. But still I am willing to admit, looking back, that I could never have really loved her.”
“Then, my dear Kennedy, why did you do it?”
“The adventure of the thing had a great deal to do with it.”
“What! You are so fond of adventures!”
“Where would the variety of life be without them? It was for an adventure that I first began to pay my attentions to her. I’ve chased a good deal of game in my time, but there’s no chase like that of a pretty woman. There was the piquant255 difficulty of it also, for, as she was the companion of Lady Emily Rood it was almost impossible to see her alone. On the top of all the other obstacles which attracted me, I learned from her own lips very early in the proceedings256 that she was engaged.”
“Mein Gott! To whom?”
“She mentioned no names.”
“I do not think that anyone knows that. So that made the adventure more alluring, did it?”
“Well, it did certainly give a spice to it. Don’t you think so?”
“I tell you that I am very ignorant about these things.”
“My dear fellow, you can remember that the apple you stole from your neighbour’s tree was always sweeter than that which fell from your own. And then I found that she cared for me.”
“What — at once?”
“Oh, no, it took about three months of sapping and mining. But at last I won her over. She understood that my judicial257 separation from my wife made it impossible for me to do the right thing by her — but she came all the same, and we had a delightful102 time, as long as it lasted.”
“But how about the other man?”
Kennedy shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose it is the survival of the fittest,” said he. “If he had been the better man she would not have deserted258 him. Let’s drop the subject, for I have had enough of it!”
“Only one other thing. How did you get rid of her in three weeks?”
“Well, we had both cooled down a bit, you understand. She absolutely refused, under any circumstances, to come back to face the people she had known in Rome. Now, of course, Rome is necessary to me, and I was already pining to be back at my work — so there was one obvious cause of separation. Then, again, her old father turned up at the hotel in London, and there was a scene, and the whole thing became so unpleasant that really — though I missed her dreadfully at first — I was very glad to slip out of it. Now, I rely upon you not to repeat anything of what I have said.”
“My dear Kennedy, I should not dream of repeating it. But all that you say interests me very much, for it gives me an insight into your way of looking at things, which is entirely different from mine, for I have seen so little of life. And now you want to know about my new catacomb. There’s no use my trying to describe it, for you would never find it by that. There is only one thing, and that is for me to take you there.”
“That would be splendid.”
“When would you like to come?”
“The sooner the better. I am all impatience259 to see it.”
“Well, it is a beautiful night — though a trifle cold. Suppose we start in an hour. We must be very careful to keep the matter to ourselves. If anyone saw us hunting in couples they would suspect that there was something going on.”
“We can’t be too cautious,” said Kennedy. “Is it far?”
“Some miles.”
“Not too far to walk?”
“Oh, no, we could walk there easily.”
“We had better do so, then. A cabman’s suspicions would be aroused if he dropped us both at some lonely spot in the dead of the night.”
“Quite so. I think it would be best for us to meet at the Gate of the Appian Way at midnight. I must go back to my lodgings260 for the matches and candles and things.”
“All right, Burger! I think it is very kind of you to let me into this secret, and I promise you that I will write nothing about it until you have published your report. Good-bye for the present! You will find me at the Gate at twelve.”
The cold, clear air was filled with the musical chimes from that city of clocks as Burger, wrapped in an Italian overcoat, with a lantern hanging from his hand, walked up to the rendezvous261. Kennedy stepped out of the shadow to meet him.
“You are ardent262 in work as well as in love!” said the German, laughing.
“Yes; I have been waiting here for nearly half an hour.”
“I hope you left no clue as to where we were going.”
“Not such a fool! By Jove, I am chilled to the bone! Come on, Burger, let us warm ourselves by a spurt263 of hard walking.”
Their footsteps sounded loud and crisp upon the rough stone paving of the disappointing road which is all that is left of the most famous highway of the world. A peasant or two going home from the wine-shop, and a few carts of country produce coming up to Rome, were the only things which they met. They swung along, with the huge tombs looming264 up through the darkness upon each side of them, until they had come as far as the Catacombs of St. Calixtus, and saw against a rising moon the great circular bastion of Cecilia Metella in front of them. Then Burger stopped with his hand to his side. “Your legs are longer than mine, and you are more accustomed to walking,” said he, laughing. “I think that the place where we turn off is somewhere here. Yes, this is it, round the corner of the trattoria. Now, it is a very narrow path, so perhaps I had better go in front, and you can follow.” He had lit his lantern, and by its light they were enabled to follow a narrow and devious265 track which wound across the marshes266 of the Campagna. The great Aqueduct of old Rome lay like a monstrous267 caterpillar268 across the moonlit landscape, and their road led them under one of its huge arches, and past the circle of crumbling269 bricks which marks the old arena270. At last Burger stopped at a solitary271 wooden cowhouse, and he drew a key from his pocket.
“Surely your catacomb is not inside a house!” cried Kennedy.
“The entrance to it is. That is just the safeguard which we have against anyone else discovering it.”
“Does the proprietor43 know of it?”
“Not he. He had found one or two objects which made me almost certain that his house was built on the entrance to such a place. So I rented it from him, and did my excavations272 for myself. Come in, and shut the door behind you.”
It was a long, empty building, with the mangers of the cows along one wall. Burger put his lantern down on the ground, and shaded its light in all directions save one by draping his overcoat round it. “It might excite remark if anyone saw a light in this lonely place,” said he. “Just help me to move this boarding.” The flooring was loose in the corner, and plank273 by plank the two savants raised it and leaned it against the wall. Below there was a square aperture274 and a stair of old stone steps which led away down into the bowels275 of the earth.
“Be careful!” cried Burger, as Kennedy, in his impatience, hurried down them. “It is a perfect rabbits’-warren below, and if you were once to lose your way there, the chances would be a hundred to one against your ever coming out again. Wait until I bring the light.”
“How do you find your own way if it is so complicated?”
“I had some very narrow escapes at first, but I have gradually learned to go about. There is a certain system to it, but it is one which a lost man, if he were in the dark, could not possibly find out. Even now I always spin out a ball of string behind me when I am going far into the catacomb. You can see for yourself that it is difficult, but every one of these passages divides and subdivides276 a dozen times before you go a hundred yards.” They had descended277 some twenty feet from the level of the byre, and they were standing278 now in a square chamber cut out of the soft tufa. The lantern cast a flickering279 light, bright below and dim above, over the cracked brown walls. In every direction were the black openings of passages which radiated from this common centre.
“I want you to follow me closely, my friend,” said Burger. “Do not loiter to look at anything upon the way, for the place to which I will take you contains all that you can see, and more. It will save time for us to go there direct.” He led the way down one of the corridors, and the Englishman followed closely at his heels. Every now and then the passage bifurcated280, but Burger was evidently following some secret marks of his own, for he neither stopped nor hesitated. Everywhere along the walls, packed like the berths281 upon an emigrant282 ship, lay the Christians of old Rome. The yellow light flickered283 over the shrivelled features of the mummies, and gleamed upon rounded skulls284 and long, white arm-bones crossed over fleshless chests. And everywhere as he passed Kennedy looked with wistful eyes upon inscriptions, funeral vessels285, pictures, vestments, utensils286, all lying as pious287 hands had placed them so many centuries ago. It was apparent to him, even in those hurried, passing glances, that this was the earliest and finest of the catacombs, containing such a storehouse of Roman remains as had never before come at one time under the observation of the student. “What would happen if the light went out?” he asked, as they hurried on.
“I have a spare candle and a box of matches in my pocket. By the way, Kennedy, have you any matches?”
“No; you had better give me some.”
“Oh, that is all right. There is no chance of our separating.”
“How far are we going? It seems to me that we have walked at least a quarter of a mile.”
“More than that, I think. There is really no limit to the tombs — at least, I have never been able to find any. This is a very difficult place, so I think that I will use our ball of string.” He fastened one end of it to a projecting stone and he carried the coil in the breast of his coat, paying it out as he advanced. Kennedy saw that it was no unnecessary precaution, for the passages had become more complexed and tortuous288 than ever, with a perfect network of intersecting corridors. But these all ended in one large circular hall with a square pedestal of tufa topped with a slab289 of marble at one end of it. “By Jove!” cried Kennedy in an ecstasy290, as Burger swung his lantern over the marble. “It is a Christian241 altar — probably the first one in existence. Here is the little consecration291 cross cut upon the corner of it. No doubt this circular space was used as a church.”
“Precisely,” said Burger. “If I had more time I should like to show you all the bodies which are buried in these niches292 upon the walls, for they are the early popes and bishops293 of the Church, with their mitres, their croziers, and full canonicals. Go over to that one and look at it!” Kennedy went across, and stared at the ghastly head which lay loosely on the shredded294 and mouldering295 mitre.
“This is most interesting,” said he, and his voice seemed to boom against the concave vault296. “As far as my experience goes, it is unique. Bring the lantern over, Burger, for I want to see them all.” But the German had strolled away, and was standing in the middle of a yellow circle of light at the other side of the hall.
“Do you know how many wrong turnings there are between this and the stairs?” he asked. “There are over two thousand. No doubt it was one of the means of protection which the Christians adopted. The odds are two thousand to one against a man getting out, even if he had a light; but if he were in the dark it would, of course, be far more difficult.”
“So I should think.”
“And the darkness is something dreadful. I tried it once for an experiment. Let us try it again!” He stooped to the lantern, and in an instant it was as if an invisible hand was squeezed tightly over each of Kennedy’s eyes. Never had he known what such darkness was. It seemed to press upon him and to smother297 him. It was a solid obstacle against which the body shrank from advancing. He put his hands out to push it back from him. “That will do, Burger,” said he, “let’s have the light again.”
But his companion began to laugh, and in that circular room the sound seemed to come from every side at once. “You seem uneasy, friend Kennedy,” said he.
“Go on, man, light the candle!” said Kennedy, impatiently.
“It’s very strange, Kennedy, but I could not in the least tell by the sound in which direction you stand. Could you tell where I am?”
“No; you seem to be on every side of me.”
“If it were not for this string which I hold in my hand I should not have a notion which way to go.”
“I dare say not. Strike a light, man, and have an end of this nonsense.”
“Well, Kennedy, there are two things which I understand that you are very fond of. The one is adventure, and the other is an obstacle to surmount298. The adventure must be the finding of your way out of this catacomb. The obstacle will be the darkness and the two thousand wrong turns which make the way a little difficult to find. But you need not hurry, for you have plenty of time, and when you halt for a rest now and then, I should like you just to think of Miss Mary Saunderson, and whether you treated her quite fairly.”
“You devil, what do you mean?” roared Kennedy. He was running about in little circles and clasping at the solid blackness with both hands.
“Good-bye,” said the mocking voice, and it was already at some distance. “I really do not think, Kennedy, even by your own showing that you did the right thing by that girl. There was only one little thing which you appeared not to know, and I can supply it. Miss Saunderson was engaged to a poor, ungainly devil of a student, and his name was Julius Burger.” There was a rustle299 somewhere — the vague sound of a foot striking a stone — and then there fell silence upon that old Christian church — a stagnant300 heavy silence which closed round Kennedy and shut him in like water round a drowning man.
Some two months afterwards the following paragraph made the round of the European Press:—
One of the most interesting discoveries of recent years is that of the new catacomb in Rome, which lies some distance to the east of the well-known vaults301 of St. Calixtus. The finding of this important burial-place, which is exceedingly rich in most interesting early Christian remains, is due to the energy and sagacity of Dr. Julius Burger, the young German specialist, who is rapidly taking the first place as an authority upon ancient Rome. Although the first to publish his discovery, it appears that a less fortunate adventurer had anticipated Dr. Burger. Some months ago Mr. Kennedy, the well-known English student, disappeared suddenly from his rooms in the “Corso”, and it was conjectured302 that his association with a recent scandal had driven him to leave Rome. It appears now that he had in reality fallen a victim to that fervid303 love of archaeology304 which had raised him to a distinguished305 place among living scholars. His body was discovered in the heart of the new catacomb, and it was evident from the condition of his feet and boots that he had tramped for days through the tortuous corridors which make these subterranean306 tombs so dangerous to explorers. The deceased gentleman had, with inexplicable307 rashness, made his way into this labyrinth308 without, as far as can be discovered, taking with him either candles or matches, so that his sad fate was the natural result of his own temerity309. What makes the matter more painful is that Dr. Julius Burger was an intimate friend of the deceased. His joy at the extraordinary find which he has been so fortunate as to make has been greatly marred310 by the terrible fate of his comrade and fellow-worker.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
clump
|
|
| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
swirled
|
|
| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
cataract
|
|
| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
boulder
|
|
| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
boulders
|
|
| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
scorching
|
|
| adj. 灼热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
dangling
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
conservatory
|
|
| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
intermittent
|
|
| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
reconstruction
|
|
| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
winked
|
|
| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
cavalry
|
|
| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
outlay
|
|
| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
tunic
|
|
| n.束腰外衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
mercurial
|
|
| adj.善变的，活泼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
flicking
|
|
| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
coups
|
|
| n.意外而成功的行动( coup的名词复数 )；政变；努力办到难办的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
eminent
|
|
| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
conscientious
|
|
| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
warfare
|
|
| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
second-hand
|
|
| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
surmise
|
|
| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
conjecture
|
|
| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
rivalry
|
|
| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
yearn
|
|
| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
droop
|
|
| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
proprietor
|
|
| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
proprietors
|
|
| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
ponies
|
|
| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
slinging
|
|
| 抛( sling的现在分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
pegs
|
|
| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
peg
|
|
| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
bristle
|
|
| v.（毛发）直立，气势汹汹，发怒；n.硬毛发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
banyan
|
|
| n.菩提树，榕树 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
mincing
|
|
| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
bin
|
|
| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
condescend
|
|
| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
reek
|
|
| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
lighting
|
|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
supercilious
|
|
| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
strata
|
|
| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
bully
|
|
| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
sardines
|
|
| n. 沙丁鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
jotting
|
|
| n.简短的笔记，略记v.匆忙记下( jot的现在分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
chestnut
|
|
| n.栗树，栗子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
lather
|
|
| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
swerved
|
|
| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
croaked
|
|
| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
hitch
|
|
| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
clatter
|
|
| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
mightier
|
|
| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
justify
|
|
| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
rumours
|
|
| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
garrulous
|
|
| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
scribbled
|
|
| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
persistent
|
|
| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
amalgamate
|
|
| v.(指业务等)合并，混合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
foresight
|
|
| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
cramming
|
|
| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
etiquette
|
|
| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
scruple
|
|
| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
trot
|
|
| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
galloping
|
|
| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
binoculars
|
|
| n.双筒望远镜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
groves
|
|
| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
broiling
|
|
| adj.酷热的，炽热的，似烧的v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的现在分词 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
glistening
|
|
| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
delightfully
|
|
| 大喜，欣然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
alluring
|
|
| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
shimmered
|
|
| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
shimmer
|
|
| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
foundered
|
|
| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
gulp
|
|
| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
hazy
|
|
| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
shred
|
|
| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
slumbers
|
|
| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
exultantly
|
|
| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
impersonal
|
|
| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
importunate
|
|
| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
exuberantly
|
|
| adv.兴高采烈地，活跃地，愉快地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
boisterous
|
|
| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
picket
|
|
| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
elation
|
|
| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
cartridges
|
|
| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
stewing
|
|
| 炖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
kits
|
|
| 衣物和装备( kit的名词复数 )； 成套用品； 配套元件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
stimulate
|
|
| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
digestion
|
|
| n.消化，吸收 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
hissed
|
|
| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
puff
|
|
| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
awesome
|
|
| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
antagonists
|
|
| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
defenders
|
|
| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
virile
|
|
| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
scatter
|
|
| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
exultation
|
|
| n.狂喜，得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
fanatic
|
|
| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
battalions
|
|
| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
hereditary
|
|
| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
frenzied
|
|
| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
imbued
|
|
| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
prostrate
|
|
| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
frantically
|
|
| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
tightening
|
|
| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
sleek
|
|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
dwindling
|
|
| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
nostril
|
|
| n.鼻孔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
trotting
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
fugitives
|
|
| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
crouching
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
slung
|
|
| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
backwards
|
|
| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
whooped
|
|
| 叫喊( whoop的过去式和过去分词 )； 高声说； 唤起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
volcanic
|
|
| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
tint
|
|
| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
swirling
|
|
| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
transcribed
|
|
| （用不同的录音手段）转录( transcribe的过去式和过去分词 )； 改编（乐曲）（以适应他种乐器或声部）； 抄写； 用音标标出（声音） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
tingling
|
|
| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
spine
|
|
| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
ribs
|
|
| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
throb
|
|
| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
flayed
|
|
| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
hoofs
|
|
| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
abreast
|
|
| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
halfway
|
|
| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
corrugated
|
|
| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
premier
|
|
| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
cipher
|
|
| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
diplomacy
|
|
| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
despatch
|
|
| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
ironical
|
|
| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
bloody
|
|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
longitude
|
|
| n.经线，经度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
stuffiness
|
|
| n.不通风，闷热；不通气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
footpaths
|
|
| 人行小径，人行道( footpath的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
sumptuous
|
|
| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
friezes
|
|
| n.（柱顶过梁和挑檐间的）雕带，（墙顶的）饰带( frieze的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
busts
|
|
| 半身雕塑像( bust的名词复数 )； 妇女的胸部； 胸围； 突击搜捕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
inscriptions
|
|
| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
ornaments
|
|
| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
strewed
|
|
| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
unimpeachable
|
|
| adj.无可指责的；adv.无可怀疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
authenticity
|
|
| n.真实性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
seduced
|
|
| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
whim
|
|
| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
incisive
|
|
| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
sensuous
|
|
| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
languor
|
|
| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
robust
|
|
| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
mingling
|
|
| adj.混合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
bluff
|
|
| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
subtlety
|
|
| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
ancestry
|
|
| n.祖先，家世 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
arduous
|
|
| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
doggedly
|
|
| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
tenacity
|
|
| n.坚韧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
ripening
|
|
| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
vivacity
|
|
| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
callousness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
reprobation
|
|
| n.斥责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
inscribed
|
|
| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
233
mosaics
|
|
| n.马赛克( mosaic的名词复数 )；镶嵌；镶嵌工艺；镶嵌图案 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
234
rusty
|
|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
235
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
236
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
237
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
238
relics
|
|
| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
239
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
240
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
241
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
242
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
243
mania
|
|
| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
244
distractions
|
|
| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
245
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
246
implicitly
|
|
| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
247
systematic
|
|
| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
248
luxuriously
|
|
| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
249
puffing
|
|
| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
250
villain
|
|
| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
251
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
252
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
253
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
254
moodily
|
|
| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
255
piquant
|
|
| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
256
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
257
judicial
|
|
| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
258
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
259
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
260
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
261
rendezvous
|
|
| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
262
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
263
spurt
|
|
| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
264
looming
|
|
| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
265
devious
|
|
| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
266
marshes
|
|
| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
267
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
268
caterpillar
|
|
| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
269
crumbling
|
|
| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
270
arena
|
|
| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
271
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
272
excavations
|
|
| n.挖掘( excavation的名词复数 )；开凿；开凿的洞穴（或山路等）；（发掘出来的）古迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
273
plank
|
|
| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
274
aperture
|
|
| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
275
bowels
|
|
| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
276
subdivides
|
|
| 再分，细分( subdivide的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
277
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
278
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
279
flickering
|
|
| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
280
bifurcated
|
|
| a.分为两部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
281
berths
|
|
| n.（船、列车等的）卧铺( berth的名词复数 )；（船舶的）停泊位或锚位；差事；船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 )；占铺位 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
282
emigrant
|
|
| adj.移居的，移民的；n.移居外国的人，移民 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
283
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
284
skulls
|
|
| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
285
vessels
|
|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
286
utensils
|
|
| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
287
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
288
tortuous
|
|
| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
289
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
290
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
291
consecration
|
|
| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
292
niches
|
|
| 壁龛( niche的名词复数 )； 合适的位置[工作等]； （产品的）商机； 生态位（一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
293
bishops
|
|
| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
294
shredded
|
|
| shred的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
295
mouldering
|
|
| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
296
vault
|
|
| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
297
smother
|
|
| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
298
surmount
|
|
| vt.克服；置于…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
299
rustle
|
|
| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
300
stagnant
|
|
| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
301
vaults
|
|
| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
302
conjectured
|
|
| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
303
fervid
|
|
| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
304
archaeology
|
|
| n.考古学 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
305
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
306
subterranean
|
|
| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
307
inexplicable
|
|
| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
308
labyrinth
|
|
| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
309
temerity
|
|
| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
310
marred
|
|
| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |