Carlyle Mansions1 was not a very big building and contained less than a score of flats. The needs of those tenants2 who required help were looked after by a married couple and three maids, who all lived in the basement. The ‘Mansions’ was four stories high, and was served by an automatic lift.
Larose let himself into his suite3 of rooms, and throwing himself into an armchair, gave himself up to his thoughts. He always felt at rest and peaceful there, and very seldom entertained any visitors. Only a few of his most intimate friends were aware he had any flat at all in town, and, in consequence, he was seldom troubled by callers.
So he was a little bit surprised now, when he had been there about ten minutes, to hear a ring at the bell on his door.
Opening the door at once, he saw two respectable-looking men in workmen’s overalls4 standing5 outside. Both of them were carrying tool-bags.
“Come to look at the bath taps, sir,” said the taller of them, in a pleasant drawling voice with a faint Irish accent. “It’ll be Mr. Harvey, isn’t it?”
“No, you’ve made a mistake,” began Larose, “this is not ——”
But he got no farther, for the tall man with a lightning movement had reached out and struck him violently upon the chest. Thrown off his balance, he staggered back in an attempt to keep upright, but the man was upon him like a tiger and tripped him heavily to the ground. Then, half stunned6 by the violence of his fall, he could put up no effective resistance against the two of them and was speedily tied hand and foot and a broad length of cloth wound round the lower part of his face to muffle8 any cries.
“If you call out,” warned the tall man sternly, and speaking in quite educated tones. “I’ll have to stun7 you.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want to, for it’s not to my liking9 to hit a helpless man.”
But Larose had no breath to call out, and, lifted into an armchair, he just stared at his two captors. Even in his distress10 it appealed to him in unpleasant humor that twice within such a short space of time he had been caught when not upon his guard and ignominiously11 tied up.
The tall man went carefully over the knots and then nodded to his companion. “They’re all right, Neil; and now we’d best tie him to the chair.”
So another length of stout13 cord was produced from one of the bags and wound several times round Larose and the back of the chair.
Larose spoke14 at last. “But who are you?” he asked in hardly audible muffled15 tones behind the thick cloth.
The tall man smiled quite a pleasant smile. “We are your benefactors16, my friend,” he said, “as we are going to save you any further suffering your poor mortal flesh is heir to.”
“But what have I done?” asked Larose, a cold horror seizing him at a realisation of what the words implied.
The man shrugged17 his shoulders, but then, immediately, smiled again. “Still, there is no reason why you shouldn’t know. It can’t do you any harm.” He pursed his lips. “You have offended the Irish Republican Army, Brother, and so are now going to pay the penalty!”
“But I have never had anything to do with it,” remonstrated18 Larose. “I have never interfered19 with it in my life.”
“Perhaps not,” agreed the other readily, “but you are Mr. Gilbert Larose, and you work for the police, and the Secret Service, and that is quite sufficient in our eyes.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you are a pawn20 in the game, and so have got to be taken off the board.”
He turned back to his companion, and together they busied themselves with the contents of the second bag. A wooden box about eight inches square was produced, and from it, wrapped several times round, with thick corrugated21 paper, was lifted out a black object of the size and shape of a large navel orange. The tall man handled it very carefully.
“My God!” exclaimed the horrified22 Larose. “Is that a bomb? Are you going to blow me up?”
The tall man nodded. “Both guesses quite correct, Brother, and you go to the top of the form.” He spoke almost with kindness. “Now, don’t you worry, for you’ll not feel a scrap23 of pain. You won’t even hear it going off. You’ll know nothing.”
Larose was in a muck sweat all over, but he pulled himself together bravely.
“I’ll buy you off,” he said. “This can be only a question of money. I’ll give you ￡500 to let me go. If you loose my hands, I’ll write a cheque, and one of you can go and cash it, while the other waits here. You can give yourselves plenty of time to get clear.”
“Sorry, but we’ve been paid once,” said the man regretfully, “and we’re quite straight in our way. Money’s very necessary to us, but we don’t work for it. We work for principle.” He held up his hand protestingly. “No, no, it’s no good arguing. You’re wasting your emotions.” There was quite a sad note in his tones. “So, give your last thoughts, my friend, to those you are leaving behind.”
Larose felt sick with horror, but he realised it was no good pleading, and that the man would not be turned from his purpose. He was dealing24 with a fanatic25, and, as with von Ravenheim, one who was lost to all sense of right and wrong.
A length of fuse was produced from the bag, and the second man started to fasten it to the bomb, while the tall one lit a cigarette and strolled idly round the room, looking at the pictures and the ornaments26.
But his attention was soon drawn27 to a pair of large silver-plated candlesticks upon the mantelpiece, and, lifting one down, he proceeded to examine it most interestedly. There was evidently something about it that was appealing strongly to him and, after a few moments, he called out with some enthusiasm, “Here, Neil, come and look at this! It’s a splendid bit of preVictorian work and the plating is as good as anything that can be done now. We have not learnt much in a hundred years.”
The second man walked over to where he was and took the candlestick from his hand. “Copper,” he remarked, feeling its weight, “and it looks like a bit of French work to me.”
“No, it isn’t,” said the other emphatically. “It’s English, right enough! Look at the curves of the socket28 and the fluted29 lines of the stem. It’s a typical Queen Caroline and, if so, it’s just over a hundred years old. That is its original plating, too, and hasn’t it worn well? Only just gone a little on the stem. I’d like old Johnson to see it. It’d give him quite a thrill!”
He glanced over his shoulder to Larose. “No, it’s all right, brother, we shan’t take it. We’re not thieves.” He made a grimace30. “Just executioners, that’s all!”
Coming away from the mantelpiece and, the fuse now being adjusted, the bomb was placed close to the armchair, but beyond reach of Larose’s feet.
Then, making sure that everything was ready, the two men took off their overalls and, folding them up neatly31, placed them in one of the bags.
“Now you won’t have to wait long, Mr. Larose,” said the tall man, striking a match. “This fuse will burn for only ten minutes and then your troubles will be all over. Just shut your eyes and make your mind a blank. Good-bye, and thank you for being sensible and not making a fuss,” and in a few seconds the men had disappeared from the room.
Larose looked up at the clock upon the mantelpiece. It was five and twenty minutes to four. Then at a quarter to four he would have ceased to live.
In a frenzy32 of mental agony, he struggled furiously to loosen his cords. But it was not the slightest use, as they had been tied too securely and soon, exhausted33 by his efforts, he let his muscles relax and lay quite still.
He could hear the murmur34 of the traffic outside, but a dreadful silence filled the room.
He could smell the burning fuse.
So, his life was nearly run now! He would see his wife and children no more! Never again would he hear their loved voices, never again ——
He looked up at clock. Only six minutes to go now! He stared hard. Only five! God, how slowly they were passing!
But tears now dimmed his eyes and he could no longer mark the passing of the time.
He breathed deeply and heavily in the last stages of his mental agony.
Then a new sound struck upon his ears and he held his breath to listen.
He was sure he had heard footsteps, stealthy footsteps, as of someone treading softly and not wanting to be heard!
Then came the click of a key in a lock, and in a lightning instant his door was flung wide and the room seemed to be filled with men.
“Damnation,” roared someone in a voice of thunder, “it’s a bomb!”
Larose closed his eyes. Then he heard friendly voices, and, sweetest of all sounds, the sound of running water. Someone must have torn off the fuse and thrown it into the bath!
“You’re all right, Mr. Larose,” boomed a big stout man, with detective-inplain-clothes written all over him. “We didn’t know what was happening, but we came just in time. That fuse had only about another half inch to burn. That’s right, boys! Rub his arms and legs well. Now, don’t you talk for a minute or two, Mr. Larose. Just wait and get back your nerve. Have you got any brandy here? Just nod your head. Take it easy now.”
But Larose began to recover very quickly, and when be had drunk the brandy and was handing back the empty glass, he looked at the clock again.
It was only ten minutes to four.
Then he turned his attention to those who were standing round him. The janitor35 of the building was there and four other men.
“You remember me, don’t you, Mr. Larose?” asked the big, stout man, who was evidently the leader of the party. “I’m Inspector36 Hammer, and was at the Yard when you were there, although I wasn’t an inspector then. These are Detectives Canny37, Goodridge, and Rice.”
Larose smiled weakly at them all, but then, his strength returning every moment, asked quickly, “But how on earth did it happen you came here?”
The inspector smiled. “From information received,” he began, in the usual policeman stereotyped38 fashion, but then his face instantly sobered down. “No, this is no time for joking.” He looked at his watch. “Exactly twenty-two minutes ago, as the half-hour was striking, an urgent phone message from a call office reached the Yard that you were being held up at your rooms by two desperate characters. The speaker wouldn’t state his name, but he was so very agitated39 that we thought we’d risk it being a hoax40. He gave your address, and so we jumped into a car and came off instantly. Then the janitor here let us in with his master key.”
“Yes, sir,” added the janitor to Larose, “and I saw the two men go out a little while ago. But I only saw their backs, and so can’t describe them, except that one was taller than the other.”
“That’s not much good is it?” laughed the inspector. He turned to Larose. “Now, sir, do you feel strong enough yet to tell us about these men?”
Larose nodded. “I had never seen them before, inspector,” he said, “and haven’t the remotest idea who they are. I opened the door to their ring and they just pounced41 upon me and trussed me up. Then one of them told me quite frankly42 they were members of the Irish Republican Army, and had been paid to blow me up.”
The inspector whistled. “The Irish Republican Army! Oh, if we could get hold of them! We’re wanting a number of those gentry43 just now. They’re very active and doing a lot of damage all over the country.”
“Well, you will get the fingerprints45 of these two, all right,” said Larose. He pointed46 to the mantelpiece. “For one thing, they handled those candlesticks, and besides, you ought to find them on the bomb.”
“Good!” exclaimed the inspector. “Then I’ll use your phone, if you don’t mind, and ring up for our fingerprint44 man straightaway. Now if you give us a good description of them, we’ll ——”
“Not here!” interrupted Larose. “Take me back with you at once to the Yard. I want to get in touch with the inspector who’s been handling all these explosion outrages47, and with any luck”— his eyes gleamed —“we’ll have them both in the cells before night.”
“But you say you don’t know anything about them,” exclaimed the frowning inspector, “and have never seen them before! Then how are you going to get them taken before night?”
“You come along and see,” smiled Larose. “I’ve got some good ideas. If they haven’t taken fright, we ought to get them easily enough.”
A quarter of an hour later, Larose was telling his story to Inspector Drew, a man of much smaller dimensions than the burly Inspector Hammer.
The inspector heard him out, hardly saying a word the whole time. Then Larose asked. “Now, from the descriptions I have given you, can you place these two men?”
The inspector shook his head. “Never heard of them before! There are no men wanted, or even suspected of having been responsible for any bomb outrages, who answer to those descriptions.” He nodded. “I don’t think I am boasting when I state that the appearance of all the known bomb-men and the suspected ones, as well, are familiar to me.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Of a number of bomb-men, and, unhappily, some of the worst, we have no descriptions. There is one among them, the ring-leader, and probably the mastermind of them all, who eludes48 us at every turn. Yes, he and his particular little band move among us like shadows. They do their dreadful work and they are gone — like shadows, too!”
“Leaving no traces behind them?” asked Larose. “I mean you haven’t got finger-prints of any of whom you have no description.”
“Oh, but we have.” said the Inspector instantly. “In several instances we have the fingerprints which they have left behind them. Now, in that explosion in the British Museum the week before last, when one of the Museum attendants was killed, we obtained the finger-marks of a bearded man who had been seen leaning against a window-sill in the gallery five minutes before the explosion occurred. We are sure that bearded man was the bomber49, because no bearded man went out again through the turnstile and the beard was found later tucked away behind the hot water pipes.” He sighed heavily. “But I’m having a dreadful time, because I can’t pick up any trails. My department is in disgrace and any day now I may be told to stand down.”
“Then if I give you these two men who were going to bomb me,” smiled Larose, “even if they deny they were ever to my flat, their finger-prints may yet prove their guilt50 in other outrages?”
“Certainly!” nodded the inspector. He smiled. “If you give them to us.”
“Well, here goes,” said Larose, always enjoying a dramatic situation, “and I think you’ll get them right enough.” He paused a moment, and then went on, speaking very quickly. “To begin with, I am sure they are electroplaters by trade. Their overalls, in which they arrived, were clean and well patched, but there were some yellow-covered stains upon them, and I noticed also a number of small holes.” He nodded. “All the work of the acid which electroplaters use, and their fingers were stained, too.”
He went on. “Of course, I know acid is used in many trades, but these men were unduly51 interested in some old silver-plated candlesticks of mine upon the mantelpiece. One of them was evidently something of an expert, as he guessed most accurately52 how old the candlesticks were. But it was the silver-plating which appeared to interest him most and he remarked that, although it must have been done a hundred and odd years ago, it could not be done better even now.”
“Well, granted that they are electroplaters, what next?” asked the inspector, because Larose had stopped speaking.
Larose then spoke very quietly. “Then this same man, as he was examining one of the candlesticks said, and these were his exact words, ‘I’d like old Johnson to see it. It would give him quite a thrill!’” He snapped out quickly, as if as in old times he were an authority at the Yard. “Have a London Directory brought in and look for an electroplater called Johnson among the trades. If you find him, he’ll tell us who these men are.”
The inspector looked a little astonished and perhaps just a little awed53. The deductions54 were so simple and Larose was so sure.
A London directory was produced and, the trade pages being turned up, sure enough there was a J. Johnson among the electroplaters. His place of business was in Clerkenwell road.
“Bring a telephone book,” snapped Larose. “We’ll make sure he’s on and if so, take care there’ll be no running into a back room to give these men warning, if he’s in the racket, too.”
“Yes, he’s on the phone, all right,” said the inspector after a few moments’ search, “and he must be in a good way of business, as he’s got two numbers.”
He prepared quickly for action and it was arranged that two cars should go. In the first would be the inspector and Larose, and in the second four plain-clothes detectives. Both cars were to stop a hundred yards away from the Johnson shop in Clerkenwell road.
The number of the shop was 218 and, reaching number 200, the first car was pulled up and Larose and the inspector stepped out. Larose was wearing a pair of big dark glasses, he sported a small moustache and his hat was pulled down well over his eyes.
Mindful that J. Johnson had two telephones, they were not surprised, upon arriving at his premises55, to find that his shop was quite a good-sized one and, upon entering, to see that it was well appointed.
“If this Johnson is in with them,” whispered the inspector, “then, no doubt, he is a large contributor to the funds.” His voice thrilled a little. “We may be lighting56 upon something good.”
But, enquiring57 for Mr. Johnson personally and being shown into his private office, they both instantly formed the opinion that he would be no supporter of the Irish Republican Army. He was a well-dressed, smiling good-natured looking man, of middle age and massive proportions, and apparently58 not in the least likely to be associated with crime and political intrigue59.
He looked very grave when the inspector told him he came from Scotland Yard. It was Larose, however, who opened the questioning and, with no beating about the bush, he came straight to the point.
“Do you know, sir,” he asked, “a working electroplater, an Irishman, tall, fair, with curly hair and blue eyes, pleasing to look at and with some amount of education?” Mr. Johnson looked graver still.
“I do,” he said. “What’s he done?”
“If he’s the man I mean,” said Larose sharply, “he’s a bomb-man, an active member of the Irish Republican Army and, most probably, has been involved in some of those explosions which have occurred lately. Who is he? You must not try to shield him.”
“Oh, I won’t shield him!” exclaimed Mr. Johnson warmly. “I’m a law-abiding citizen, I am, and although personally I like the man very much, I’d be one of the first to give him away, if he’s been doing what you think. His name is Fergus O’Haran Shane, and he’s got a little shop in Lord Street, just round the back of here. He’s a very clever craftsman60, and when I’ve got any special work in a small way I give it to him to do.” He clicked his tongue. “Dear me, dear me, a well read, nice fellow like him being a bomb-man!” He nodded. “But I do hope you’re wrong.”
“Does he employ any workmen himself?” asked the inspector.
“Only one young fellow, an Irishman, too, called Neil,” replied Mr. Johnson, and Larose’s heart gave a big bump.
“Is he on the telephone?” asked the inspector.
“Oh, yes, I’ll give you his number. It’s on my little memorandum61 here. Ah, I see what you mean! No, of course I wouldn’t warn him. I tell you I’m a decent citizen, and I hate all violence. Look here, I’ll come straight away with you and show you where his place is. I won’t go in, but I’ll come far enough to show you that I’d have no time to let him know you were coming.”
So Mr. Johnson put on his hat and accompanied them round the corner, and with the four plainclothes men following not far behind.
“Now, that’s his shop,” he pointed out, “two doors beyond that public house.” A thought struck him, and he stopped dead. “But I say, I say, do you think Shane is likely to make a struggle, if he knows you have come to arrest him? Will he put up a fight?”
“For sure he will,” nodded the inspector. “So we two are going in to engage him in conversation, and then my men behind will rush him. That’s the only way. He’ll probably be armed to the teeth, and he’d pull a gun if he had the slightest warning.”
Mr Johnson looked very troubled. “But as a detective from Scotland Yard, I’m afraid he may recognise you at once. I have just remembered one of the men told me a little while ago that Shane often wasted a lot of time as a spectator in the police courts. My man said he knew all the judges and magistrates62 by name. So, depend upon it, he’ll know the police and detectives, too.”
The inspector considered. “That’s a bit awkward,” he said frowningly. “It’s part of our duty to face danger, but for all that, we don’t want to risk valuable lives if we can help it.”
“Here, I’ll manage it,” said Larose, and instantly he turned into a paper shop just by where they were then standing.
A minute later he came out with a score and more of newspapers under his arm. “I’ve bought up all his evening edition,” he grinned, “and half a dozen weekly ‘Comics’ as well. They’ll settle him. I’ll throw them in his face and grab him.” He gritted63 his teeth. “I’d like to do the job myself, I owe it to him. Rush in when I shout,” and, giving the inspector no time to protest, he strode away.
With his hat pulled well down over his forehead, he pushed open the door and walked into Shane’s shop. It was empty when he entered and he had to rap with his knuckles64 upon the counter to attract attention. Then, to his great satisfaction, it was Shane himself who appeared from the workroom at the back.
With his cigarette case in his hand, Larose at once walked a little way towards him, so that Shane should not go behind the counter, across which it would be difficult to grapple with him.
“What’ll you charge to resilver this for me?” he asked in a very hoarse65 tone of voice, holding the case only a few inches forward, so that Shane would be obliged to come close up to take it from him.
But the man did not seem to approach too readily, and Larose noted66 he was frowning. He had just glanced at the cigarette case and then fastened his eyes intently upon its owner. He seemed wary67 and suspicious in some way.
Indeed, he was suspicious, for had Larose only known it, he could not have done a worse thing than to approach the Irishman wearing dark glasses. Shane was always suspicious of dark glasses, holding them nearly always to be an attempt at disguise.
Larose thought like lightning. He had only just remembered, with a pang68 of anger for his carelessness, that he was wearing the same suit of clothes as when he had been tied up in his flat not two hours previously69, and its color and pattern might any moment strike some chord of memory in Shane’s mind. So he spoke up quickly.
“Mr. Johnson, round the corner,” he said, “told me to come here,” and at once the frown on Shane’s face lifted.
“Let’s look at it,” he began, “and ——”
But he got no further, for Larose flung up the newspapers into his face and then grabbed him and tripped him up. He had no need to shout for help for the inspector, getting anxious because of the delay, had peeped round the door, and seeing what had happened, was by his side in an instant, with the four plainclothes men crowding in after him without making a sound.
Shane had struggled furiously, but it was all to no good, and in less than a minute he was lying handcuffed and with his legs tied. From his hip70 pocket they had plucked a loaded automatic.
“Now, we must be very careful,” said the inspector, preparing to lead the way into the workroom. “We’ve not made much noise, and the other man, Neil, may be about somewhere.”
“No, I don’t think so,” commented Larose, “or this chap would have shouted to give him warning.”
And Larose proved right, for the whole place was empty. It only consisted of four rooms, the shop, the workroom and a kitchen and bedroom behind.
Leaving the inspector and three of the plainclothes men to make a thorough search of the premises, Larose went back to Shane who was now sitting propped71 up in a chair. The Irishman was looking very white, and was breathing heavily, but there was an easy smile upon his face.
“Like a cigarette, Brother?” said Larose in quite a friendly tone, and instantly Shane frowned and his face became the very picture of amazement72.
“How the devil do you come to be here?” he asked.
“Oh, your little cracker73 didn’t go off,” smiled Larose, “and I just called round to tell you about it.”
“Anyone shop me?” asked Shane conversationally74, and for all the world as if he were speaking casually75 to an acquaintance.
“You shopped yourself,” laughed Larose. “You talked too much about that candlestick, and I guessed you were an electroplater. Then an Irishman who is an electroplater and in the telephone book is not hard to pick out. See!”
Shane looked very crestfallen77. “A— ah, I ought to have remembered that, alive or dead, you were a man to be afraid of.” He nodded. “Still, it will be a lesson to me.”
“But one learned a bit too late, I’m thinking,” said the inspector, who had just come back into the shop. “The only lesson you’ll learn now will be at the end of a six-foot drop.”
He turned to Larose. “It couldn’t be better. This is a great find. There’s enough explosive here to blow up the street.” He clicked his tongue. “And bomb cases, automatics and even a submachine gun! The cellar’s a regular arsenal78!”
“But it’s not the only one we’ve got,” scoffed79 Shane derisively80. “Why, man, there are dozens bigger than mine in London!” His eyes flashed. “You’ll never crush us!”
The inspector beckoned81 Larose into the workroom and then whispered exultingly82, “I think this chap will turn out to be the same devil who left that bomb in the British Museum. We’ve found some wigs83, and another black beard, the very spit of the beard left behind in the Museum.” He nodded. “Still, when we get his fingerprints, we’ll know for certain. Oh, and another thing, there’s going to be a party here tonight. He’s got in quite a spread for it, half a dozen meat pies, about two bob’s worth of fish and chips, and four bottles of stout and a bottle of whisky.”
“Splendid!” exclaimed Larose. “You’ll nab them as they come in.”
“Yes, but we’ll have to get this Shane away without causing any excitement in the street,” said the inspector. “So we’re going to lift him over the wall of the backyard. Well, I suppose you’ll be going now.” He shook him warmly by the hand. “Thank you very much for what you’ve done for us, Mr. Larose.” His eyes twinkled. “If you’d come, I’d dearly like to have you back at the Yard as my assistant”— his face sobered down, and he spoke with undoubted sincerity84 —“or even as my superior.” He bowed. “You’re quite a genius in your way, sir.”
Driving back to Sloane Square in a taxi, with many a tremor85 of emotion, Larose went over the happenings of that afternoon, and now he had time to ponder over it, he wondered with intense curiosity who it could possibly have been who had rung up the police to tell them he was in danger.
“Surely I have no friends among this bombing crowd,” he told himself, “and yet, it must have been someone among them who had pity on me! Whoever he was, he must be a bad egg himself, too, or he would have said who he was when he rang up.” He nodded. “Probably I’ll never know!” He nodded again. “And probably I’ll never know either who set Shane on to me.” He laughed. “But I guess it was my good friend von Ravenheim. He is a quick worker and never lets the grass grow under his feet!”
Having a good hot bath and changing his clothes, he went off to the Apollo for dinner, thinking it another occasion when he ought to do himself well.
He was late and the place was very crowded, but he was directed to a small table for two, already occupied by one diner. As he was giving his order to the waiter, he noted subconsciously86 that his vis-a-vis had got his head down, with his serviette tucked in the old-fashioned foreign way into his neck.
But directly the waiter had gone, the diner opposite to him looked up. “Good evening, Mr. Larose!” he said smilingly. “Surely you haven’t forgotten me!” and to Larose’s amazement, he saw it was Royne speaking.
“Great Jerusalem!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
Royne raised his eyebrows87. “Just dining! Having a bit of dinner like you’re going to have yourself!” He laughed. “I was hungry and thought this place would be good enough for me.”
“And you look to be doing yourself well,” commented Larose. “Vintage champagne88 at about thirty shillings a bottle! Good gracious!”
“Well, I needed something to brace89 me up,” said Royne. He sighed. “I’ve had a lot of worry since I last saw you.”
“But the police haven’t got you yet!” said Larose.
“No, no, they’ve been very good to me that way. Indeed, I almost think they must have been turning a blind eye towards me all the time. One of them didn’t even look in my direction when I took a bag of buns out of a car yesterday for my lunch. Of course, I may have been just lucky. I hadn’t noticed he was standing there at all.”
“You’ve been hard up, eh?” queried90 Larose. He frowned. “But you must be in funds now to be dining here!”
“Oh, don’t jump at conclusions too quickly, please Mr. Larose,” said Royne, shaking his head, “and please don’t look at the cuffs91 of my shirt, either.” He pointed with his finger. “This table napkin comes in very handy to hide a dirty collar.” He sighed. “I’ve been sleeping in the parks the last two nights.”
At that moment the waiter arrived with Larose’s turbot and lobster92 sauce, and Royne ordered filets de boeuf à la soubise.
A short silence followed and then Royne, noticing Larose was regarding him very intently, remarked gaily93, “Oh yes, I had a shave! A woman gave me sixpence this afternoon. I asked her for it, in Belgrave Square. The square happened to be rather lonely at that moment and I don’t think she liked to refuse. She gave it me all in coppers94.” He nodded. “Still, that happened to be lucky a little later on.”
Larose frowned. “What’s all this farce95?” he asked. “If you’ve got no money, what does it mean you being here.”
“It means, Mr. Larose,” said Royne, “that I am having my last meal in public, a meal which I shall not be able to pay for when the bill is presented.” He bowed. “Tomorrow, therefore, I shall dine with His Majesty96, if not actually with him at Buckingham Palace, in one of his subordinate establishments.”
“Then you have no money at all?” asked Larose.
“One penny,” replied Royne. He produced it. “And that I shall give to the waiter.” He bowed again. “I shall go down with flying colors.”
A long silence followed, and then Royne summoned the waiter. “Two of your best liqueur brandies,” he ordered. “Give one to my friend.”
Larose chuckled97. “Really, Mr. Royne, your poverty makes you quite an agreeable companion! It appears, too, to have brightened up your wit, quite a lot.”
“I am always at my best in adversity,” sighed Royne. “It brings out qualities that at other times I do not seem to be aware I possess.”
“But why are you so short of money,” asked Larose. “Why, you had ￡2,000 from the Baltic Embassy not two months ago!”
“But Pellew was our joint98 banker, Mr. Larose, and all the money was in his name. We had plenty in the bank, but, with him arrested, I can’t get a penny of it.”
“And about those jewels? Have they been sold yet?”
Royne looked the picture of dejection. “Those jewels were never sold, and now they’re lost for good.” He sighed heavily. “That day when you found me at Marle House, I had come to get them. I knew they were hidden somewhere under the floorboards in Pellew’s bedroom, and, after you had gone, I started to look for them, but I dropped a lighted match among the rubbish under the boards and in a second it was all ablaze99. Some wretched hooligans must have turned on the taps of the rainwater tanks when the house was unoccupied, and there wasn’t a drop of water to put the fire out. Then the floor boards themselves caught alight and the whole room was soon burning. Knowing the smoke of the burning house would be seen for miles away, I had to run for my life to escape being caught.”
“Then the house was burnt down?” said Larose.
“Yes, gutted100 out, I suppose!”
Larose nodded. “Well, you’ve been a traitor101 to your country and it serves you right!”
“I know that,” said Royne dejectedly, “and what little conscience I have left often worries me about it.” He nodded. “I was brought up a gentleman, Mr. Larose. I was in the Royal Navy once.”
“Then the more shame to you,” scowled102 Larose. “I’d never forgive you for that. You can’t have a scrap of honor left.”
Something in his tone of contempt seemed to stir Royne to anger. “But I’m not all bad,” he scowled back, “and, for one thing, I know when to be grateful.” He nodded. “You let me off at Marle House, and I believe I did you a good turn this afternoon, or at any rate I tried to.”
“What do you mean?” asked Larose.
Royne spoke up boldly. “Well, I saw a man trail you into Carlyle Mansions, and then, when he went and fetched another man who had been watching at the other corner, and they both went into the same building, I rang up the police. I was suspicious because, as they passed me together, I distinctly heard one of them say, ‘We’ll get him easy enough.’”
“Good God!” exclaimed Larose. “Then it was you who telephoned the police.”
“Yes,” replied Royne emphatically. “I had only threepence on me, all I had in the world, and I spent tuppence of it on you.” He drew himself up with dignity. “I wasn’t intending to mention it, so that you shouldn’t think I was wanting to get money out of you because I’d tried to do you a service.”
“And you did do me a service,” said Larose warmly, “and I’m extremely grateful to you.” He nodded. “In fact you saved my life.”
Then, very briefly103, he related what had taken place and was soon repaid for his confidence by seeing something of self-respect creep back into Royne’s face.
“And I should say,” finished up Larose, “that if you are brought to trial for your part in selling those submarine plans, what you have done today will very likely earn you a free pardon.”
“You really think so?” asked Royne eagerly.
“Well, we shall know for certain tonight,” said Larose, “for, if the fingerprints of this Fergus Shane turn out to be those of the man who left the bomb in the British Museum, they have caught one of the most wanted men. There’s a reward of ￡500 for his capture and you would be entitled to it.”
“Good heavens,” exclaimed Royne, “with ￡500 I could get to Australia and start a new life over there!”
“But tell me exactly how you came to notice anyone trailing me?”
Royne looked very shamefaced. “I was waiting in Sloane Square to touch someone for a bit of silver. Squares are quieter than the open streets, and the police are less likely to catch you there. I’d been in the square half an hour before and noticed two workmen in overalls loitering about, one at each end. When I went back there the second time they were still there, and I was interested. Then I saw you come by and I’ve told you what happened.”
“And you went and rang up at once?”
“No, not as quickly as I wanted to. I couldn’t find a call-office at first and when I did, there was a woman in it and I had to wait several minutes. Then I ran back to the Mansions, but just in time to see the men going out. Although they had still got their toolbags, they were no longer wearing overalls, and it made me so curious that I followed them.”
“Where did they go?” asked Larose quickly.
“After cutting across the park they finished up in Foubert’s place, just off Regents Street. They went in a newspaper shop there and, looking through the window, I saw them talking and laughing with the man behind the counter. They stopped there about five minutes and then caught a bus at Oxford104 Circus going towards the City. They had left their bags at the newspaper shop.”
“Did you notice any name on the shop?”
“Yes, it was O’Donnell.”
Larose snapped his fingers together delightedly. “Another bullseye, perhaps!” He went on quickly. “Now, my friend, your luck’s in tonight! I’ll pay for your dinner and then you’ll come straight with me to Scotland Yard and repeat all you’ve just told me.”
Royne’s face fell. “But they’ll take me at once!” he exclaimed. “They’re bound to recognise me in a close-up.”
“But they shan’t touch you,” said Larose emphatically. “I’ll see to that. You’ll be under my protection, and it’ll be a truce105 of God!”
They taxied off at once, and arriving at the Yard, Larose learnt that Inspector Drew was still in the building. He had been expecting that as he knew the inspector would be having a busy evening.
Leaving Royne to wait in the corridor, he was ushered106 into the inspector’s room. The latter’s face was one broad smile of delight.
“Thanks to you, Mr. Larose,” he said, fervently107, “I shall be a made man after tonight. The chief, the press, and the public have all been railing at my department for doing nothing, and now they’re going to feel very small.” His eyes sparkled. “I’ve just finished with a room full of reporters, and tomorrow their papers will be red-hot with news.” He calmed down. “We got the lot in Shane’s place, the whole tea party, five of them, and they’re all heads in the Irish Republican Army.” He thumped108 upon the desk. “Their finger-prints are damning! That Shane is the bomber of the British Museum and there are two others whose finger-prints will get them fifteen years!” He drew in a deep breath. “Oh, this is a great night for me, and I’ve got you to thank for it all.”
“And, perhaps now,” laughed Larose, “I’m going to give you something more to thank me for.” He raised his finger warningly. “I’ve got a man waiting outside and he’s wanted by you chaps here. No, it’s not a crime of violence, it’s more one of passing on stolen goods. Still, in my judgment109, knowing all the circumstances, if you don’t take him no harm will be done. So, I’ve given him a safe conduct here. You understand? He’s under my protection.”
The inspector made a grimace. “Certainly, my lord!” he said. “Who’s the man?”
“He’s the one who rang up here this afternoon and started you on this grand trail,” said Larose. “Incidentally he saved my life.”
“O-oh,” exclaimed the inspector, “then whatever he’s wanted for, I’d be inclined to give him a handsome present and let him go free.”
“If I’m not very much mistaken,” went on Larose, “you’ll find him worth listening to. At any rate, he’ll give you an introduction to some more of Shane’s friends.”
So Royne was brought in and very nervously110 told his tale. The inspector listened attentively111 and opened his eyes very wide when Royne told him about the two men laughing and talking in the newsagent’s shop and leaving their tool bags behind them there.
“And you don’t want to give us your name,” he said when Royne had finished. “I particularly ask that, because it seems to me you’re clearly entitled to the ￡500 reward for the information leading to the capture of Shane.”
“But he won’t claim the reward,” said Larose decisively. “He’s leaving the country next week. His evidence won’t be wanted.”
“All right,” nodded the inspector. He rose to his feet. “And in twenty minutes at latest we’ll be raiding that O’Donnell’s newspaper shop in Foubert’s place.” He smiled. “I like anything with an Irish name tonight.”
“Well, I’m going home now,” said Larose, “but I shan’t be going to bed yet awhile, so ring me up if you have anything interesting to tell. You’ve got my phone number. You won’t find it in the book. It’s a silent one.”
Larose took Royne back with him to Carlyle Mansions, intending to put him up for the night. The two were in deep conversation when about an hour later the telephone rang.
Inspector Drew was in a state of great jubilation112. They had arrested three more men and found another arsenal, containing even more arms and explosives than had been found in that of Shane’s. He, the inspector, quite thought he would at least be given the O.B.E. now.
And while all these events had been happening, the lovesick Herr Blitzen had been spending what should have been a peaceful day in the country.
With his mind full of Cecily Castle and made bold by his thoughts of her, he had set off early that morning for Wickham Towers, hoping to be able to learn from Lady Willingdean where the girl was.
He had not forgotten von Ravenheim had been positive her ladyship had been in the plot and fully12 aware of his real identity, but for all that he was going to interview her, feeling quite sure she would keep up the pretence113 of not knowing who he was and not refer to it in any way. Indeed, he felt rather pleased they should be realising he was no commonplace foreigner but the mighty114 dictator of the country which was causing them such apprehension115 and fear.
So, intending, as upon his previous journey down to Haslemere, to let von Ravenheim have no inkling as to where he had gone, he had made no mention even of his going out at all. But then he had spoken very few words at all to the ambassador since he had become aware of his treachery, reserving everything he was intending to say until he would explode in wrath116, when the matter of Lord Michael and Sir Howard was finished with.
He reached the car-hire station in Great Portland Street and engaging a private car for the day, asked for the driver who had driven him before.
The man was sent for, and then, when Blitzen had seated himself in the car, the former said most respectfully, “I hope you found your gloves, sir!”
“What gloves?” asked Herr Blitzen curtly117.
“The ones you lost the other day, sir, when I drove you to Haslemere.”
Herr Blitzen frowned. He did not like holding conversations with menials. “I lost no gloves,” he snapped. “Who told you I did?”
“The man from the embassy, sir,” replied the chauffeur118 rather timidly, not liking the look in the Herr’s eyes.
“What!” ejaculated Herr Blitzen. “A man from the embassy told you I had lost some gloves?”
“Yes, sir, Himmell, from the Baltic Embassy,” said the chauffeur, in all haste to explain. “He came here a few minutes after I had dropped you at the Circus. He said you had lost some, and thought you had left them in the car.”
The Herr’s face was black as thunder. “And he asked you where I’d been?”
The driver looked most uneasy. “Not exactly, sir,” he faltered119, “but it came out in the course of conversation. He hoped you had had a pleasant drive. You see, sir,” he added, “I know Himmell well. We oil and grease Herr von Ravenheim’s car here; and it is Himmell who generally brings it round. He saw us, too, that afternoon when you got out at the Circus. He seemed to be waiting there.”
Herr Blitzen cursed deeply to himself. He had been many times a damned fool to come for a car so near to Portland place. He should have remembered that. Of course, von Ravenheim had been spying on him, and had set his man upon the watch.
“Start off,” he snarled120 to the chauffeur. “The man was fooling you. I’d lost no gloves,” and the chauffeur hopped76 into the driving seat, glad that the cross-examination was over.
All the way the Herr was in a black rage, and, instead of giving all his thoughts to the blue eyes of Cecily Castle, her beautiful profile and the entrancing curves of her lithe121 and supple122 young body, he was now thinking all the time of what dreadful punishment he would give von Ravenheim.
Yes, his punishment would be dreadful; and, influential123 as the man was in Baltic circles, he should suffer just as if he was the meanest peasant who had failed to acknowledge the greatness of his country’s Dictator.
Then ugly thoughts began to germinate124 in Herr Blitzen’s mind.
On the morrow he and von Ravenheim would be together on a lonely marshland on a lonely coast? There would be muddied creeks125 all round them! They would be in darkness and death would be in the air!
He must think, he must think it out well!
Arriving at Wickham Towers, the door was opened by the lordly-looking Cramp126. The butler was so profoundly deferential127 in his demeanour that Herr Blitzen half wondered if, as an old and confidential128 servant of the family, conversation had been careless when he had been present and he knew who he, the Herr, really was. He regretted now, for the first time, that he had injured the man by pushing him down the stairs.
But he might have spared himself any regrets, as Cramp’s politeness was only because ‘that damned foreigner’ had eaten his master’s salt and was therefore sacred in his eyes.
Lady Willingdean received him warmly, taking his visit, however, only as a courtesy one because he had recently partaken of her hospitality. She was really feeling extremely sorry that he had made the long journey, as she thought, out of politeness.
Von Ravenheim had been quite wrong, in stating that, knowing who he was, she had purposely decoyed him down to Wickham Towers. As a matter of fact, she knew nothing whatever about him, except that he was a friend of her friends the two Castle girls.
Herr Blitzen asked at once if she could tell him where Cecily was, and his heart sank when she said she had no idea at all; indeed, had not heard from her since the week-end at the Towers.
“But I know what her work has been,” frowned Blitzen, thinking by saying that, Lady Willingdean would understand he was harboring no resentment129 because of the way Cecily had been deceiving him.
But Lady Willingdean only thought he was referring to Cecily’s work at the War Office, and commented smilingly. “Yes, we all think it very patriotic130 of her. Both girls are quite well off and have no need to do any work like that at all.” Then she added, “But wasn’t it dreadful those men trying to kidnap them?”
“Yes, it was,” said Herr Blitzen with the utmost sternness, “and I intend the instigator131 of it all shall be most severely132 punished.”
Lady Willingdean wondered what on earth he could have to do with it, and she was also wondering vaguely133 why Cecily had dropped him so suddenly and was not now letting him know where she was. But his next words made her, she thought, understand.
“I want to find her,” he went on. He spoke slowly. “I intend to make her my wife,” and if he had though he would surprise Lady Willingdean, he was certainly quite right in the supposition.
She literally134 gasped135. She knew Cecily was engaged; but, all apart from that, she was certain the girl would never give her affections to a man of Herr Blitzen’s type, and a foreigner at that. She would have to break it very gently to him about Captain Best.
“Yes,” went on the Herr pompously136 and not a little gratified at the effect he had produced, “our differing positions in the world in no wise deters137 me from contracting the alliance. I am fully resolved upon it; and if anyone disparages138 my wife they will do so at their peril140.”
Lady Willingdean felt uneasy. Except that he thought he was going to marry Cecily Castle, she could not understand what he meant. She did not, however, like his manner now. It was truculent141, and as if he imagined he could do what he liked. She was fearing that if he were crossed he might become almost abusive. No, it would be better not to tell him anything about Captain Best now. She would leave that to someone else.
So she just nodded as if she were in entire agreement with him. “But then, of course, no one would disparage139 Cecily,” she said. “She is such a charming girl.”
“And she will be the uncrowned queen of my great kingdom!” exclaimed Herr Blitzen fervently. “I shall be the envy of fifty million men and she will be the idol142 of a hundred million men and women.”
Lady Willingdean felt really frightened. He must be out of his mind, she was sure. She had been intending to ask him to stay to lunch but now all she thought of was how quickly to get him out of the house. She looked furtively143 at the bell and wondered if Cramp would answer it quickly if she rang.
Then, to her great relief, Blitzen rose up from his chair and said he must be going.
“But how do you advise me to find out where Miss Castle is?” he asked.
“O-oh, that will be quite easy,” she replied. “Go to the War Office, and they’ll tell you at once.” Then, determined144 to warn Cecily, she added quickly. “But don’t go there until Monday. Saturday’s always a holiday with them, and on Fridays they always leave very early.”
Herr Blitzen took his leave feeling quite sure in his mind that Lady Willingdean had been most impressed at the idea of the great honor he was proposing to confer upon her young friend, and Cramp bowed so deeply when he was letting him out of the front door that, to the butler’s unbounded surprise, he gave him a treasury145 half note.
All that Cramp’s deep bow had, however, meant, was that he had been trying to suppress a hiccough. He had just had a sandwich of mixed pickles146, and pickles always affected147 him that way.
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1
mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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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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6
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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stun
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| vt.打昏，使昏迷，使震惊，使惊叹 | |
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muffle
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| v.围裹；抑制；发低沉的声音 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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ignominiously
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| adv.耻辱地，屈辱地，丢脸地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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15
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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benefactors
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| n.捐助者，施主( benefactor的名词复数 )；恩人 | |
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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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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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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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pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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corrugated
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| 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) | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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fanatic
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| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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ornaments
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| 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 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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canny
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| adj.谨慎的，节俭的 | |
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stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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hoax
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| v.欺骗，哄骗，愚弄；n.愚弄人，恶作剧 | |
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pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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fingerprint
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| n.指纹；vt.取...的指纹 | |
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fingerprints
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| n.指纹( fingerprint的名词复数 )v.指纹( fingerprint的第三人称单数 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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outrages
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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eludes
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的第三人称单数 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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49
bomber
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| n.轰炸机，投弹手，投掷炸弹者 | |
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50
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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51
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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52
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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53
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
deductions
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| 扣除( deduction的名词复数 )； 结论； 扣除的量； 推演 | |
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55
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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56
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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57
enquiring
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| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
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58
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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59
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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60
craftsman
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| n.技工，精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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61
memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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62
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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63
gritted
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的过去式和过去分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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64
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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65
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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66
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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67
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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68
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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69
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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70
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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71
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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73
cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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74
conversationally
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| adv.会话地 | |
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75
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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76
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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77
crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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78
arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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79
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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81
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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83
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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84
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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85
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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86
subconsciously
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| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
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87
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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88
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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89
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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90
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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91
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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92
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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93
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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94
coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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95
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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96
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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97
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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99
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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100
gutted
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| adj.容易消化的v.毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的过去式和过去分词 )；取出…的内脏 | |
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101
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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102
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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104
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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105
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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106
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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108
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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110
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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111
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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112
jubilation
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| n.欢庆，喜悦 | |
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113
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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114
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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115
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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116
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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117
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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118
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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119
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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120
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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121
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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122
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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123
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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124
germinate
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| v.发芽；发生；发展 | |
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125
creeks
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| n.小湾( creek的名词复数 )；小港；小河；小溪 | |
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126
cramp
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| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
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127
deferential
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| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
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128
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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129
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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130
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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131
instigator
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| n.煽动者 | |
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132
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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133
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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134
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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135
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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136
pompously
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| adv.傲慢地，盛大壮观地；大模大样 | |
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137
deters
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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138
disparages
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| v.轻视( disparage的第三人称单数 )；贬低；批评；非难 | |
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139
disparage
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| v.贬抑，轻蔑 | |
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140
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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141
truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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142
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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143
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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144
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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145
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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146
pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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147
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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