At the desk he asked if Miss Soames was in. He was not surprised when the receptionist said they had no Miss Soames staying in the hotel. The only question was whether she had left the hotel when Bond was out of sight or had registered under another name.
Bond motored across the beautiful Pont du Mont Blanc and along the brightly lit quai to the Bavaria, a modest Alsatian brasserie that had been the rendezvous2 of the great in the days of the League of Nations. He sat by the window and drank Enzian washed down with pale Lowenbrau. He thought first about Goldfinger. There was now no doubt what he was up to. He financed a spy network, probably SMERSH, and he made fortunes smuggling3 gold to India, the country where he could get the biggest premium4. After the loss of his Brixham trawler, he had thought out this new way. He first made it known that he had an armoured car. That would only be considered eccentric. Many English bodybuilders exported them. They used to go to Indian rajahs; now they went to oil sheiks and South American presidents. Goldfinger had chosen a Silver Ghost because, with his modifications6, the chassis7 was strong enough, the riveting8 was already a feature of the bodywork, and there was the largest possible area of metal sheeting. Perhaps Gold-finger had run it abroad once or twice to get Ferryfield used to it. Then, on the next trip, he took off the armour5 plating in his works at Reculver. He substituted eighteen-carat white gold. Its alloy9 of nickel and silver would be strong enough. The colour of the metal would not betray him if he got in a smash or if the bodywork were scratched. Then off to Switzerland and to the little factory. The workmen would have been as carefully picked as the ones at Reculver. They would take off the plates and mould them into aircraft seats which would then be upholstered and installed in Mecca Airlines - run presumably by some stooge of Goldfinger's who got a cut on each 'gold run'. On these runs -once, twice, three times a year? - the plane would accept only light freight and a few passengers. At Bombay or Calcutta the plane would need an overhaul10, be re-equipped. It would go to the Mecca hangar and have new seats fitted. The old ones, the gold ones, would go to the bullion11 brokers12. Goldfinger would get his sterling13 credit in Nassau or wherever he chose. He would have made his hundred, or two hundred, per cent profit and could start the cycle all over again, from the 'We Buy Old Gold' shops in Britain to Reculver - Geneva -Bombay.
Yes, thought Bond, gazing out across the glistening14, starlit lake, that's how it would be - a top-notch smuggling circuit with a minimum risk and maximum profit. How Goldfinger must smile as he pressed the bulb of the old boa-constrictor horn and swept past the admiring policemen of three countries! He certainly seemed to have the answer - the philosopher's stone, the finger of gold! If he hadn't been such an unpleasant man, if he wasn't doing all this to sustain the trigger finger of SMERSH, Bond would have felt admiration15 for this monumental trickster whose operations were so big that they worried even the Bank of England. As it was, Bond only wanted to destroy Goldnnger, seize his gold, get him behind bars. Goldfinger's gold-lust was too strong, too ruthless, too dangerous to be allowed the run of the world.
It was eight o'clock. The Enzian, the firewater distilled16 from gentian that is responsible for Switzerland's chronic17 alcoholism, was beginning to warm Bond's stomach and melt his tensions. He ordered another double and with it a chouc-route and a carafe18 of Fondant.
And what about the girl, this pretty, authoritarian19 joker that had suddenly been faced in the deal? What in hell was she about? What about this golf story? Bond got up and went to the telephone booth at the back of the room. He got on to the Journal de Geneve and through to the sports editor. The man was helpful, but surprised at Bond's question. No. The various championships were of course played in the summer when the other national programmes were finished and it was possible to lure20 a good foreign entry to Switzerland. It was the same with all other European countries. They liked to bring in as many British and American players as possible. It increased the gates. 'Pas de quoi, monsieur.'
Bond went back to his table and ate his dinner. So much for that. Whoever she was, she was an amateur. No professional would use a cover that could be broken down by one telephone call. It had been in the back of Bond's mind -reluctantly, because he liked the girl and was excited by her - that she could, she just could have been an agent of SMERSH sent to keep an eye on Goldfinger, or Bond or both. She had some of the qualities of a secret agent, the independence, the strength of character, the ability to walk alone. But that idea was out. She hadn't got the training.
Bond ordered a slice of gruyere, pumpernickel and coffee. No, she was an enigma21. Bond only prayed that she hadn't got some private plot involving either him or Goldfinger that was going to mess up his own operation.
And his own job was so nearly finished! All he needed was the evidence of his own eyes that the story he had woven round Goldfinger and the Rolls was the truth. One look into the works at Coppet - one grain of white gold dust - and he could be off to Berne that very night and be on to the duty officer over the Embassy scrambler. Then, quietly, discreetly22, the Bank of England would freeze Goldfinger's accounts all over the world and perhaps, already tomorrow, the Special Branch of the Swiss police would be knocking on the door of Entreprises Auric. Extradition23 would follow, Goldfinger would go to Brixton, there would be a quiet, rather complicated case in one of the smuggling courts like Maidstone or Lewes. Goldfinger would get a few years, his naturalization would be revoked24 and his gold hoard25, illegally exported, would trickle26 back into the vaults27 below the Bank of England. And SMERSH would gnash its blood-stained teeth and add another page to Bond's bulging28 zapiska.
Time to go for the last lap. Bond paid his bill and went out and got into his car. He crossed the Rhone and motored slowly along the glittering quai through the evening traffic. It was an average night for his purpose. There was a blazing three-quarter moon to see by, but not a breath of wind to hide his approach through the woods to the factory. Well, there was no hurry. They would probably be workirig through the night. He would have to take it very easily and carefully. The geography of the place and the route he had plotted for himself ran before Bond's eyes like a film while the automatic pilot that is in all good drivers took the car along the wide white highway beside the sleeping lake.
Bond followed his route of the afternoon. When he had turned off the main road he drove on his sidelights. He nosed the car off the lane into a clearing in the woods and switched off the engine. He sat and listened. In the heavy silence there was only a soft ticking from the hot metal under the bonnet29 and the hasty trip of the dashboard clock. Bond got out, eased the door shut and walked softly down the little path through the trees.
Now he could hear the soft heavy pant of the generator30 engine… thumpah… thumpah… thumpah. It seemed a watchful31, rather threatening noise. Bond reached the gap in the iron bars, slipped through and stood, straining his senses forward through the moon-dappled trees.
THUMPAH… THUMPAH… THUMPAH. The great iron puffs33 were on top of him, inside his brain. Bond felt the skin-crawling tickle34 at the groin that dates from one's first game of hide and seek in the dark. He smiled to himself at the animal danger signal. What primeval chord had been struck by this innocent noise coming out of the tall zinc35 chimney? The breath of a dinosaur36 in its cave? Bond tightened37 his muscles and crept forward foot by foot, moving small branches carefully out of his way, placing each step as cautiously as if he was going through a minefield.
The trees were thinning. Soon he would be up with the big sheltering trunk he had used before. He looked for it and then stood frozen, his pulse racing38. Below the trunk of his tree, spreadeagled on the ground, was a body.
Bond opened his mouth wide and breathed slowly in and out to release the tension. Softly he wiped his sweating palms down his trousers. He dropped slowly to his hands and knees and stared forward, his eyes widened like camera lenses.
The body under the tree moved, shifted cautiously to a new position. A breath of wind whispered in the tops of the trees. The moonbeams danced quickly across the body and then were still. There was a glimpse of thick black hair, black sweater, narrow black slacks. And something else - a straight gleam of metal along the ground. It began beneath the clump39 of black hair and ran past the trunk of the trees into the grass.
Bond slowly, wearily bent40 his head and looked at the ground between his spread hands. It was the girl, Tilly. She was watching the buildings below. She had a rifle - a rifle that must have been among the innocent golf clubs - ready to fire on them. Damn and blast the silly bitch!
Bond slowly relaxed. It didn't matter who she was or what she was up to. He measured the distance, planned each stride - the trajectory41 of the final spring, left hand to her neck, right to the gun. Now!
Bond's chest skidded42 over the hump of the buttocks and thudded into the small of the girl's back. The impact emptied the breath out of her with a soft grunt43. The fingers of Bond's left hand flew to the throat and found the carotid artery44. His right hand was on the waist of the rifle's stock. He prised the fingers away, felt that the safety catch was on and reached the rifle far to one side.
Bond eased the weight of his chest off the girl's back and moved his fingers away from her neck. He closed them softly over her mouth. Beneath him, he felt the body heave, the lungs labouring for breath. She was still out. Carefully Bond gathered the two hands behind the girl's back and held them with his right. Beneath him the buttocks began to squirm. The legs jerked. Bond pinned the legs to the ground with his stomach and thighs45, noting the strong muscles bunched under him. Now the breath was rasping through his fingers. Teeth gnawed46 at his hand. Bond inched carefully forwards along the girl. He got his mouth through her hair to her ear. He whispered urgently, 'Tilly, for Christ's sake. Stay still! This is me, Bond. I'm a friend. This is vital. Something you don't know about. Will you stay still and listen?'
The teeth stopped reaching for his fingers. The body relaxed and lay soft under his. After a time, the head nodded once.
Bond slid off her. He lay beside her, still holding her hands prisoned behind her back. He whispered, 'Get your breath. But tell me, were you after Goldfinger?'
The pale face glanced sideways and away. The girl whispered fiercely into the ground, 'I was going to kill him.'
Some girl Goldfinger had put in the family way. Bond let go her hands. She brought them up and rested her head on them. Her whole body shuddered47 with exhaustion48 and released nerves. The shoulders began to shake softly. Bond reached out a hand and smoothed her hair, quietly, rhythmically49. His eyes carefully went over the peaceful, unchanged scene below. Unchanged? There was something. The radar50 thing on the cowl of the chimney. It wasn't going round any more. It had stopped with its oblong mouth pointing in their direction. The fact had no significance for Bond. Now the girl wasn't crying any more. Bond nuzzled his mouth close to her ear. Her hair smelled of jasmine. He whispered, TJon't worry. I'm after him too. And I'm going to damage him far worse than you could have done. I've been sent after him by London. They want him. What did he do to you?'
She whispered, almost to herself, 'He killed my sister. You knew her - Jill Masterton.'
.Bond said fiercely, 'What happened?'
'He has a woman once a month. Jill told me this when she first took the job. He hypnotizes them. Then he - he paints them gold.'
'Christ! Why?'
'I don't know. Jill told me he's mad about gold. I suppose he sort of thinks he's - that he's sort of possessing gold. You know - marrying it. He gets some Korean servant to paint them. The man has to leave their backbones51 unpainted. Jill couldn't explain that. I found out it's so they wouldn't die. If their bodies were completely covered with gold paint, the pores of the skin wouldn't be able to breathe. Then they'd die. Afterwards, they're washed down by the Korean with resin52 or something. Goldfinger gives them a thousand dollars and sends them away.
Bond saw the dreadful Oddjob with his pot of gold paint, Goldfinger's eyes gloating over the glistening statue, the fierce possession. 'What happened to Jill?'
'She cabled me to come. She was in an emergency ward32 in a hospital in Miami. Goldfinger had thrown her out. She was dying. The doctors didn't know what was the matter. She told me what had happened to her - what he had done to her. She died the same night.' The girl's voice was dry - matter of fact. 'When I got back to England I went to Train, the skin specialist. He told me this business about the pores of the skin. It had happened to some cabaret girl who had to pose as a silver statue. He showed me details of the case and the autopsy53. Then I knew what had happened to Jill. Gold-finger had had her painted all over. He had murdered her. It must have been out of revenge for - for going with you.' There was a pause. The girl said dully, 'She told me about you. She - she liked you. She told me if ever I met you I was to give you this ring.'
Bond closed his eyes tight, fighting with a wave of mental nausea54. More death! More blood on his hands. This time, as the result of a careless gesture, a piece of bravado55 that had led to twenty-four hours of ecstasy56 with a beautiful girl who had taken his fancy and, in the end, rather more than his fancy. And this petty sideswipe at Goldfinger's ego57 had been returned by Goldfinger a thousand, a millionfold. 'She left my employ' - the flat words in the sunshine at Sandwich two days before. How Goldfinger must have enjoyed saying that! Bond's fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. By God, he'd pin this murder on Goldfinger if it was the last act of his life. As for himself…? Bond knew the answer. This death he would not be able to excuse as being part of his job. This death he would have to live with.
The girl was pulling at her finger - at the Claddagh ring, the entwined hands round the gold heart. She put her knuckle58 to her mouth. The ring came off. She held it up for Bond to take. The tiny gold circle, silhouetted59 against the trunk of the tree, glittered in the moonlight.
The noise in Bond's ear was something between a hiss60 and a shrill61 whistle. There was a dry, twanging thud. The aluminium62 feathers of the steel arrow trembled like a humming bird's wings in front of Bond's eyes. The shaft63 of the arrow straightened. The gold ring tinkled64 down the shaft until it reached the bark of the tree.
Slowly, almost incuriously, Bond turned his head.
Ten yards away - half in moonlight, half in shadow - the black melon-headed figure crouched65, its legs widely straddled in the judo66 stance. The left arm, thrust forward against the glinting semicircle of the bow, was straight as a duellist's. The right hand, holding the feathers of the second arrow, was rigid67 against the right cheek. Behind the head, the taut68 right elbow lanced back in frozen suspense69. The silver tip of the second arrow pointed70 exactly between the two pale raised profiles.
Bond breathed the words, 'Don't move an inch.' Aloud he said, 'Hullo, Oddjob. Damned good shot.'
Oddjob jerked the tip of the arrow upwards71.
Bond got to his feet, shielding the girl. He said softly, out of the corner of his mouth, 'He mustn't see the rifle.' He said to Oddjob, speaking casually72, peaceably, 'Nice place Mr Goldfinger has here. Want to have a word with him sometime. Perhaps it's a bit late tonight. You might tell him I'll be along tomorrow.' Bond said to the girl, 'Come on, darling. We've had our walk in the woods. Time to get back to the hotel.' He took a step away from Oddjob towards the fence.
Oddjob stamped his forward foot. The point of the second arrow swung to the centre of Bond's stomach.
'Oargn.' Oddjob jerked his head sideways and downwards73 towards the house.
'Oh, you think he'd like to see us now? All right. You don't think we'll be disturbing him? Come on, darling.'
Bond led the way to the left of the tree, away from the rifle that lay in the shadowed grass.
As they went slowly down the hill, Bond talked softly to the girl, briefing her. 'You're my girl friend. I brought you out from England. Seem surprised and interested by our little adventure. We're in a tough spot. Don't try any tricks.' Bond jerked back his head. 'This man's a killer74.'
The girl said angrily, 'If only you hadn't interfered75.'
'Same to you,' said Bond shortly. He took it back. 'I'm sorry, Tilly. Didn't mean that. But I don't think you could have got away with it.'
'I had my plans. I'd have been over the frontier by midnight.'
Bond didn't answer. Something had caught his eye. On top of the tall chimney, the oblong mouth of the radar-thing was revolving76 again. It was that that had spotted77 them -heard them. It must be some kind of sonic detector78. What a bag of tricks this man was! Bond hadn't meant to underestimate Goldfinger. Had he managed to do so - decisively? Perhaps, if he had had his gun…? No. Bond knew that even his split-second draw wouldn't have beaten the Korean - wouldn't do so now. There was a total deadliness about this man. Whether Bond had been armed or unarmed, it would have been a man fighting a tank.
They reached the courtyard. As they did so, the back door of the house opened. Two more Koreans, who might have been the servants from Reculver, ran out towards them through the warm splash of electric light. They carried ugly-looking polished sticks. 'Stop!' Both men wore the savage80, empty grin that men from Station J, who had been in Japanese prison camps, had described to Bond. 'We search. No trouble or…' The man who had spoken, cut the air with a whistling lash79 of his stick. 'Hands up!'
Bond put his hands slowly up. He said to the girl, 'Don't react… whatever they do.'
Odd job came forward and stood, menacingly, watching the search. The search was expert. Bond coldly watched the hands on the girl, the grinning faces.
'Okay. Come!'
They were herded81 through the open door and along a stone-flagged passage to the narrow entrance hall at the front of the house. The house smelled as Bond had imagined it would musty and fragrant82 and summery. There were white-panelled doors. Oddjob knocked on one of them.
'Yes?'
Oddjob opened the door. They were prodded83 through.
Goldfinger sat at a big desk. It was neatly84 encumbered85 with important-looking papers. The desk was flanked by grey metal filing cabinets. Beside the desk, within reach of Gold-finger's hand, stood a short-wave wireless86 set on a low table. There was an operator's keyboard and a machine that ticked busily and looked like a barograph. Bond guessed that this had something to do with the detector that had intercepted87 them.
Goldfinger wore his purple velvet88 smoking-jacket over an open-necked white silk shirt. The open neck showed a tuft of orange chest-hair. He sat very erect89 in a high-backed chair. He hardly glanced at the girl. The big china-blue eyes were fixed90 on Bond. They showed no surprise. They held no expression except a piercing hardness.
Bond blustered91, 'Look here, Goldfinger. What the hell's all this about? You put the police on to me over that ten thousand dollars and I got on your tracks with my girl friend here, Miss Soames. I've come to find out what the hell you mean by it. We climbed the fence - I know it's trespassing92, but I wanted to catch you before you moved on somewhere else. Then this ape of yours came along and damned near killed one of us with his bow and arrow. Two more of your bloody93 Koreans held us up and searched us. What the hell's going on? If you can't give me a civil answer and full apologies I'll put the police on you.'
Goldfinger's flat, hard stare didn't flicker94. He might not have heard Bond's angry-gentleman's outburst. The finely chiselled95 lips parted. He said, 'Mr Bond, they have a saying in Chicago: "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." Miami, Sandwich and now Geneva. I propose to wring96 the truth out of you.' Gold-finger's eyes slid slowly past Bond's head. 'Oddjob. The Pressure Room.'
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1
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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rendezvous
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| 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 | |
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smuggling
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| n.走私 | |
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premium
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| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
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5
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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modifications
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| n.缓和( modification的名词复数 )；限制；更改；改变 | |
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chassis
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| n.汽车等之底盘；（飞机的）起落架；炮底架 | |
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8
riveting
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| adj.动听的，令人着迷的，完全吸引某人注意力的；n.铆接（法） | |
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9
alloy
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| n.合金，(金属的)成色 | |
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overhaul
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| v./n.大修，仔细检查 | |
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bullion
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| n.金条，银条 | |
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brokers
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| n.（股票、外币等）经纪人( broker的名词复数 )；中间人；代理商；（订合同的）中人v.做掮客（或中人等）( broker的第三人称单数 )；作为权力经纪人进行谈判；以中间人等身份安排… | |
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13
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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14
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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carafe
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| n.玻璃水瓶 | |
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authoritarian
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| n./adj.专制(的)，专制主义者，独裁主义者 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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extradition
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| n.引渡（逃犯） | |
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revoked
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| adj.[法]取消的v.撤销，取消，废除( revoke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hoard
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| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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generator
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| n.发电机，发生器 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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33
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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zinc
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| n.锌；vt.在...上镀锌 | |
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dinosaur
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| n.恐龙 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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trajectory
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| n.弹道，轨道 | |
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42
skidded
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| v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的过去式和过去分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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43
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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44
artery
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| n.干线，要道；动脉 | |
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45
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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46
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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47
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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48
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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50
radar
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| n.雷达，无线电探测器 | |
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51
backbones
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| n.骨干( backbone的名词复数 )；脊骨；骨气；脊骨状物 | |
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52
resin
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| n.树脂，松香，树脂制品；vt.涂树脂 | |
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53
autopsy
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| n.尸体解剖；尸检 | |
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54
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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56
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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57
ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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58
knuckle
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| n.指节；vi.开始努力工作；屈服，认输 | |
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silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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60
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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61
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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aluminium
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| n.铝 (=aluminum) | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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judo
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| n.柔道 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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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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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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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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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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detector
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| n.发觉者，探测器 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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81
herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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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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encumbered
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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91
blustered
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| v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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92
trespassing
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| [法]非法入侵 | |
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93
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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95
chiselled
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| adj.凿过的，凿光的； （文章等）精心雕琢的v.凿，雕，镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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96
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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