Strive as he would, Woodhouse could not screen this picture from his eyes. He tried to hope that ere this, discretion8 had conquered her resolution to "make good," and that she had fled from Paris, one of the great army of refugees who had already begun to pour out of the gates of France when he passed through the war-stunned capital a few days before. But, no; there was no mistaking the determination he had read in those brown eyes that day on the express from Calais. "I couldn't go scampering9 back to New York just because somebody starts a war over here." Brave, yes; but hers was the bravery of ignorance. This little person from the States, on her first venture into the complex life of the Continent, could not know what war there would mean; the terror and magnitude of it. And now where was she? In Paris, caught in its hysteria of patriotism10 and darkling fear of what the morrow would bring forth11? Or had she started for England, and become wedged in the jam of terrified thousands battling for place on the Channel steamers? Was her fine self-reliance upholding her, or had the crisis sapped her courage and thrown her back on the common helplessness of women before disaster?
Captain Woodhouse, the self-sufficient and aloof12, whose training had been all toward suppression of every instinct save that in the line of duty, was surprised at himself. That a little American inconnu—a "business person," he would have styled her under conditions less personal—should have come into his life in this definite way was, to say the least, highly irregular. The man tried to swing his reason as a club against his heart—and failed miserably13. No, the fine brave spirit that looked out of those big brown eyes would not be argued out of court. Jane Gerson was a girl who was different, and that very difference was altogether alluring14. Woodhouse caught himself going over the incidents of their meeting. Fondly he reviewed scraps15 of their conversation on the train, lingering on the pat slang she used so unconsciously.
Was it possible Jane Gerson ever had a thought for Captain Woodhouse? The man winced16 a little at this speculation17. Had it been fair of him when he so glibly18 practised a deception19 on her? If she knew what his present business was, would she understand; would she approve? Could this little American ever know, or believe, that some sorts of service were honorable?
Just before the Castle Claire raised the breakwater of Alexandria came a wireless20, which was posted at the head of the saloon companionway:
"Germany declares war on Russia. German flying column reported moving through Luxemburg on Belgium."
The fire was set to the grain.
Upon landing, Captain Woodhouse's first business was to go to a hotel on the Grand Square, which is the favorite stopping place of officers coming down from the Nile country. He fought his way through the predatory hordes21 of yelling donkey boys and obsequious22 dragomans at the door, and entered the palm-shaded court, which served as office and lounge. Woodhouse paused for a second behind a screen of palm leaves and cast a quick eye around the court. None of the loungers there was known to him. He strode to the desk.
"Ah, sir, a room with bath, overlooking the gardens on the north side—very cool." The Greek clerk behind the desk smiled a welcome.
"Perhaps," Woodhouse answered shortly, and he turned the register around to read the names of the recent comers. On the first page he found nothing to interest him; but among the arrivals of the day before he saw this entry: "C. G. Woodhouse, Capt. Sig. Service; Wady Halfa." After it was entered the room number: "210."
Woodhouse read right over the name and turned another page a bit impatiently. This he scanned with seeming eagerness, while the clerk stood with pen poised23.
"Um! When is the first boat out for Gibraltar?" Woodhouse asked.
"Well, sir, the Princess Mary is due to sail at dawn day after to-morrow," the Greek answered judiciously24. "She is reported at Port Said to-day, but, of course, the war——"
Woodhouse turned away.
"But you wish a room, sir—nice room, with bath, overlooking——"
"No."
"You expected to find a friend, then?"
"Not here," Woodhouse returned bruskly, and passed out into the blinding square.
He strode swiftly around the statue of Mehemet Ali and plunged25 into the bedlam27 crowd filling a side street. With sure sense of direction, he threaded the narrow alleyways and by-streets until he had come to the higher part of the mongrel city, near the Rosetta Gate. There he turned into a little French hotel, situated28 far from the disordered pulse of the city's heart; a sort of pension, it was, known only to the occasional discriminating29 tourist. Maitre Mouquère was proud of the anonymity30 his house preserved, and abhorred31 poor, driven Cook's slaves as he would a plague. In his Cap de Liberté one was lost to all the world of Alexandria.
Thither32 the captain's baggage had been sent direct from the steamer. After a glass with Maitre Mouquère and a half hour's discussion of the day's great news, Woodhouse pleaded a touch of the sun, and went to his room. There he remained, until the gold of sunset had faded from the Mosque33 of Omar's great dome34 and all the city from Pharos and its harbor hedge of masts to El Meks winked35 with lights. Then he took carriage to the railroad station and entrained for Ramleh. What South Kensington is to London and the Oranges are to New York, Ramleh is to Alexandria—the suburb of homes. There pretty villas36 lie in the lap of the delta's greenery, skirted by canals, cooled by the winds off Aboukir Bay and shaded by great palms—the one beauty spot in all the hybrid37 product of East and West that is the present city of Alexander.
Remembering directions he had received in Berlin, Woodhouse threaded shaded streets until he paused before a stone gateway38 set in a high wall. On one of the pillars a small brass39 plate was inset. By the light of a near-by arc, Woodhouse read the inscription40 on it:
EMIL KOCH, M.D.,
32 Queen's Terrace.
He threw back his shoulders with a sudden gesture, which might have been taken for that of a man about to make a plunge26, and rang the bell. The heavy wooden gate, filling all the space of the arch, was opened by a tall Numidian in house livery of white. He nodded an affirmative to Woodhouse's question, and led the way through an avenue of flaming hibiscus to a house, set far back under heavy shadow of acacias. On every hand were gardens, rank foliage41 shutting off this walled yard from the street and neighboring dwellings42. The heavy gate closed behind the visitor with a sharp snap. One might have said that Doctor Koch lived in pretty secure isolation43.
Woodhouse was shown into a small room off the main hall, by its furnishings and position evidently a waiting-room for the doctor's patients. The Numidian bowed, and disappeared. Alone, Woodhouse rose and strolled aimlessly about the room, flipped44 the covers of magazines on the table, picked up and hefted the bronze Buddha45 on the onyx mantel, noted46, with a careless glance, the position of the two windows in relation to the entrance door and the folding doors, now shut, which doubtless gave on the consultation47 room. As he was regarding these doors they rolled back and a short thickset man, with a heavy mane of iron-gray hair and black brush of beard, stood between them. He looked at Woodhouse through thick-lensed glasses, which gave to his stare a curiously48 intent bent49.
"My office hours are from two to four, afternoons," Doctor Koch said. He spoke50 in English, but his speech was burred by a slight heaviness on the aspirants51, reminiscent of his mother tongue. The doctor did not ask Woodhouse to enter the consultation room, but continued standing between the folding doors, staring fixedly52 through his thick lenses.
"I know that, Doctor," Woodhouse began apologetically, following the physician's lead and turning his tongue to English. "But, you see, in a case like mine I have to intrude"—it was "haf" and "indrude" as Woodhouse gave these words—"because I could not be here during your office hours. You will pardon?"
Doctor Koch's eyes widened just perceptibly at the hint of a Germanic strain in his visitor's speech—just a hint quickly glossed53 over. But still he remained standing in his former attitude of annoyance54.
"Was the sun, then, too hot to bermit you to come to my house during regular office hours? At nights I see no batients—bositively none."
"The sun—perhaps," Woodhouse replied guardedly. "But as I happened just to arrive to-day from Marseilles, and your name was strongly recommended to me as one to consult in a case such as mine——"
"Where was my name recommended to you, and by whom?" Doctor Koch interrupted in sudden interest.
Woodhouse looked at him steadily55. "In Berlin—and by a friend of yours," he answered.
"Indeed?" The doctor stepped back from the doors, and motioned his visitor into the consultation room.
Woodhouse stepped into a large room lighted by a single green-shaded reading lamp, which threw a white circle of light straight down upon a litter of thin-bladed scalpels in a glass dish of disinfectant on a table. The shadowy outlines of an operating chair, of high-shouldered bookcases, and the dull glint of instruments in a long glass case were almost imperceptible because of the centering of all light upon the glass dish of knives. Doctor Koch dragged a chair out from the shadows, and, carelessly enough, placed it in the area of radiance; he motioned Woodhouse to sit. The physician leaned carelessly against an arm of the operating chair; his face was in the shadow save where reflected light shone from his glasses, giving them the aspect of detached eyes.
"So, a friend—a friend in Berlin told you to consult me, eh? Berlin is a long way from Ramleh—especially in these times. Greater physicians than I live in Berlin. Why——"
"My friend in Berlin told me you were the only physician who could help me in my peculiar56 trouble." Imperceptibly the accenting of the aspirants in Woodhouse's speech grew more marked; his voice took on a throaty character. "By some specialists my life even has been set to end in a certain year, so sure is fate for those afflicted57 like myself."
"So? What year is it, then, you die?" Doctor Koch's strangely detached eyes—those eyes of glass glowing dimly in the shadow—seemed to flicker58 palely with a light all their own. Captain Woodhouse, sitting under the white spray of the shaded incandescent59, looked up carelessly to meet the stare.
"Why, they give me plenty of time to enjoy myself," he answered, with a light laugh. "They say in 1932——"
"Nineteen thirty-two!" Doctor Koch stepped lightly to the closed folding doors, trundled them back an inch to assure himself nobody was in the waiting-room, then closed and locked them. He did similarly by a hidden door on the opposite side of the room, which Woodhouse had not seen. After that he pulled a chair close to his visitor and sat down, his knees almost touching60 the other's. He spoke very low, in German:
"If your trouble is so serious that you will die—in 1932, I must, of course, examine you for—symptoms."
For half a minute the two men looked fixedly at each other. Woodhouse's right hand went slowly to the big green scarab stuck in his cravat61. He pulled the pin out, turned it over in his fingers, and by pressure caused the scarab to pop out of the gold-backed setting holding it. The bit of green stone lay in the palm of his left hand, its back exposed. In the hollowed back of the beetle62 was a small square of paper, folded minutely. This Woodhouse removed, unfolded and passed to the physician. The latter seized it avidly64, holding it close to his spectacled eyes, and then spreading it against the light as if to read a secret water mark. A smile struggled through the jungle of his beard. He found Woodhouse's hand and grasped it warmly.
"Your symptom tallies65 with my diagnosis66, Nineteen Thirty-two," he began rapidly. "Five days ago we heard from—the Wilhelmstrasse—you would come. We have expected you each day, now. Already we have got word through to our friends at Gibraltar of the plan; they are waiting for you."
"Good!" Woodhouse commented. He was busy refolding the thin slip of paper that had been his talisman67, and fitting it into the back of the scarab. "Woodhouse—he is already at the Hotel Khedive; saw his name on the register when I landed from the Castle this morning." Now the captain was talking in familiar German.
"Quite so," Doctor Koch put in. "Woodhouse came down from Wady Halfa yesterday. Our man up there had advised of the time of his arrival in Alexandria to the minute. The captain has his ticket for the Princess Mary, which sails for Gibraltar day after to-morrow at dawn."
Number Nineteen Thirty-two listened to Doctor Koch's outlining of the plot with set features; only his eyes showed that he was acutely alive to every detail. Said he:
"But Woodhouse—this British captain who's being transferred from the Nile country to the Rock; has he ever served there before? If he has, why, when I get there—when I am Captain Woodhouse, of the signal service—I will be embarrassed if I do not know the ropes."
"Seven years ago Woodhouse was there for a very short time," Doctor Koch explained. "New governor since then—changes all around in the personnel of the staff, I don't doubt. You'll have no trouble."
Silence between them for a minute, broken by the captain:
"Our friends at Gib—who are they, and how will I know them?"
The doctor bent a sudden glance of suspicion upon the lean face before him. His thick lips clapped together stubbornly.
"Aha, my dear friend; you are asking questions. In my time at Berlin the Wilhelmstrasse taught that all orders and information came from above—and from there only. Why——"
"I suppose in default of other information I may ask the governor to point out the Wilhelmstrasse men," Woodhouse answered, with a shrug68. "I was told at Berlin I would learn all that was necessary to me as I went along, therefore, I supposed——"
"Come—come!" Doctor Koch patted the other's shoulder, with a heavy joviality69. "So you will. When you arrive at Gib, put up at the Hotel Splendide, and you will not be long learning who your friends are. I, for instance, did not hesitate overmuch to recognize you, and I am under the eyes of the English here at every turn, even though I am a naturalized English citizen—and of undoubted loyalty70." He finished with a booming laugh.
"But Woodhouse; you have arranged a way to have him drop out of sight before the Princess Mary sails? There will be no confusion—no slip-up?"
"Do not fear," the physician reassured71. "Everything will be arranged. His baggage will leave the Hotel Khedive for the dock to-morrow night; but it will not reach the dock. Yours——"
"Will be awaiting the transfer of tags at the Cap de Liberté—Mouquère's little place," the captain finished. "But the man himself—you're not thinking of mur——"
"My dear Nineteen Thirty-two," Doctor Koch interrupted, lifting protesting hands; "we do not use such crude methods; they are dangerous. The real Captain Woodhouse will not leave Alexandria—by sea, let us say—for many months. Although I have no doubt he will not be found in Alexandria the hour the Princess Mary sails. The papers he carries—the papers of identity and of transfer from Wady Halfa to Gibraltar—will be in your hands in plenty of time. You——"
The doctor stopped abruptly72. A hidden electric buzzer73 somewhere in the shadowed room was clucking an alarm. Koch pressed a button at the side of the operating chair. There was a sound beyond closed doors of some one passing through a hallway; the front door opened and closed.
"Some one at the gate," Doctor Koch explained. "C?sar, my playful little Numidian—and an artist with the Bedouin dagger74 is C?sar—he goes to answer."
Their talk was desultory75 during the next minutes. The doctor seemed restless under the suspense76 of a pending77 announcement as to the late visitor. Finally came a soft tapping on the hidden door behind Woodhouse. The latter heard the doctor exchange whispers with the Numidian in the hallway. Finally, "Show him into the waiting-room," Koch ordered. He came back to where the captain was sitting, a puzzled frown between his eyes.
"An Englishman, C?sar says—an Englishman, who insists on seeing me—very important." Koch bit the end of one stubby thumb in hurried thought. He suddenly whipped open the door of one of the instrument cases, pulled out a stethoscope, and hooked the two little black receivers into his ears. Then he turned to Woodhouse.
"Quick! Off with your coat and open your shirt. You are a patient; I am just examining you when interrupted. This may be one of these clumsy English secret-service men, and I might need your alibi79." The sound of an opening door beyond the folding doors and of footsteps in the adjoining room.
"You say you are sleepless80 at night?" Doctor Koch was talking English. "And you have a temperature on arising? Hm'm! This under your tongue, if you please"—he thrust a clinical thermometer between Woodhouse's lips; the latter already had his coat off, and was unbuttoning his shirt. Koch gave him a meaning glance, and disappeared between the folding doors, closing them behind him.
The captain, feeling much like a fool with the tiny glass tube sprouting81 from his lips, yet with all his faculties82 strained to alertness, awaited developments. If Doctor Koch's hazard should prove correct and this was an English secret-service man come to arrest him, wouldn't suspicion also fall on whomever was found a visitor in the German spy's house? Arrest and search; examination of his scarab pin—that would not be pleasant.
He tried to hear what was being said beyond the folding doors, but could catch nothing save the deep rumble83 of the doctor's occasional bass84 and a higher, querulous voice raised in what might be argument. Had he dared, Woodhouse would have drawn85 closer to the crack in the folding doors so that he could hear what was passing; every instinct of self-preservation in him made his ears yearn86 to dissect87 this murmur88 into sense. But if Doctor Koch should catch him eavesdropping89, embarrassment90 fatal to his plans might follow; besides, he had a feeling that eyes he could not see—perhaps the unwinking eyes of the Numidian, avid63 for an excuse to put into practise his dexterity91 with the Bedouin dagger—were on him.
Minutes slipped by. The captain still nursed the clinical thermometer. The mumble92 and muttering continued to sound through the closed doors. Suddenly the high whine93 of the unseen visitor was raised in excitement. Came clearly through to Woodhouse's ears his passionate94 declaration:
"But I tell you you've got to recognize me. My number's Nineteen Thirty-two. My ticket was stolen out of the head of my cane95 somewhere between Paris and Alexandria. But I got it all right—got it from the Wilhelmstrasse direct, with orders to report to Doctor Emil Koch, in Alexandria!"
Capper! Capper, who was to be betrayed to the firing squad96 in Malta, after his Wilhelmstrasse ticket had passed from his possession. Capper on the job!
Woodhouse hurled97 every foot pound of his will to hear into his ears. He caught Koch's gruff answer:
"Young man, you're talking madness. You're talking to a loyal British subject. I know nothing about your Wilhelmstrasse or your number. If I did not think you were drunk I'd have you held here, to be turned over to the military as a spy. Now, go before I change my mind."
Again the querulous protestation of Capper, met by the doctor's peremptory98 order. The captain heard the front door close. A long wait, and Doctor Koch's black beard, with the surmounting99 eyes of thick glass, appeared at a parting of the folding doors. Woodhouse, the tiny thermometer still sticking absurdly from his mouth, met the basilisk stare of those two ovals of glass with a coldly casual glance. He removed the thermometer from between his lips and read it, with a smile, as if that were part of playing a game. Still the ghastly stare from the glass eyes over the bristling100 beard, searching—searching.
"Well," Woodhouse said lightly, "no need of an alibi evidently."
Doctor Koch stepped into the room with the lightness of a cat, walked to a desk drawer at one side, and fumbled101 there a second, his back to his guest. When he turned he held a short-barreled automatic at his hip78; the muzzle102 covered the shirt-sleeved man in the chair.
"Much need—for an alibi—from you!" Doctor Koch croaked103, his voice dry and flat with rage. "Much need, Mister Nineteen Thirty-two. Commence your explanation immediately, for this minute my temptation is strong—very strong—to shoot you for the dog you are."
"Is this—ah, customary?" Woodhouse twiddled the tiny mercury tube between his fingers and looked unflinchingly at the small round mouth of the automatic. "Do you make a practise of consulting a—friend with a revolver at your hip?"
"You heard—what was said in there!" Koch's forehead was curiously ridged and flushed with much blood.
"Did you ask me to listen? Surely, my dear Doctor, you have provided doors that are sound-proof. If I may suggest, isn't it about time that you explain this—this melodrama104?" The captain's voice was cold; his lips were drawn to a thin line. Koch's big head moved from side to side with a gesture curiously like that of a bull about to charge, but knowing not where his enemy stands. He blurted105 out:
"For your information, if you did not overhear: An Englishman comes just now to address me familiarly as of the Wilhelmstrasse. He comes to say he was sent to report to me; that his number in the Wilhelmstrasse is nineteen thirty-two—nineteen thirty-two, remember; and I am to give him orders. Please explain that before I pull this trigger."
"He showed you his number—his ticket, then?" Woodhouse added this parenthetically.
"The man said his ticket had been stolen from him some time after he left Paris—stolen from the head of his cane, where he had it concealed106. But the number was nineteen thirty-two." The doctor voiced this last doggedly107.
"You have, of course, had this man followed," the other put in. "You have not let him leave this house alone."
"C?sar was after him before he left the garden gate—naturally. But——"
Woodhouse held up an interrupting hand.
"Pardon me, Doctor Koch; did you get this fellow's name?"
"He refused to give it—said I wouldn't know him, anyway."
"Was he an undersized man, very thin, sparse108 hair, and a face showing dissipation?" Woodhouse went on. "Nervous, jerky way of talking—fingers to his mouth, as if to feel his words as they come out—brandy or wine breath? Can't you guess who he was?"
"I guess nothing."
"The target!"
At the word Louisa had used in describing Capper to Woodhouse, Koch's face underwent a change. He lowered his pistol.
"Ach!" he said. "The man they are to arrest. And you have the number."
"That was Capper—Capper, formerly109 of the Belgian office—kicked out for drunkenness. One time he sold out Downing Street in the matter of the Lord Fisher letters; you remember the scandal when they came to light—his majesty110, the kaiser's, Kiel speech referring to them. He is a good stalking horse."
Koch's suspicion had left him. Still gripping the automatic, he sat down on the edge of the operating chair, regarding the other man respectfully.
"Come—come, Doctor Koch; you and I can not continue longer at cross-purposes." The captain spoke with terse111 displeasure. "This man Capper showed you nothing to prove his claims, yet you come back to this room and threaten my life on the strength of a drunkard's bare word. What his mission is you know; how he got that number, which is the number I have shown you on my ticket from the Wilhelmstrasse—you understand how such things are managed. I happen to know, however, because it was my business to know, that Capper left Marseilles for Malta aboard La Vendée four days ago; he was not expected to go beyond Malta."
Koch caught him up: "But the fellow told me his boat didn't stop at Malta—was warned by wireless to proceed at all speed to Alexandria, for fear of the Breslau, known to be in the Adriatic." Woodhouse spread out his hands with a gesture of finality.
"There you are! Capper finds himself stranded112 in Alexandria, knows somehow of your position as a man of the Wilhelmstrasse—such things can not be hid from the underground workers; comes here to explain himself to you and excuse himself for the loss of his number. Is there anything more to be said except that we must keep a close watch on him?"
The physician rose and paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back. The automatic bobbed against the tails of his long coat as he walked. After a minute's restless striding, he broke his step before the desk, jerked open the drawer, and dropped the weapon in it. Back to where Woodhouse was sitting he stalked and held out his right hand stiffly.
"Your pardon, Number Nineteen Thirty-two! For my suspicion I apologize. But, you see my position—a very delicate one." Woodhouse rose, grasped the doctor's hand, and wrung113 it heartily114.
"And now," he said, "to keep this fellow Capper in sight until the Princess Mary sails and I aboard her as Captain Woodhouse, of Wady Halfa. The man might trip us all up."
"He will not; be sure of that," Koch growled115, helping116 Woodhouse into his coat and leading the way to the folding doors. "I will have C?sar attend to him the minute he comes back to report where Capper is stopping."
"Until when?" the captain asked, pausing at the gate, to which Koch had escorted him.
"Here to-morrow night at nine," the doctor answered, and the gate shut behind him. Captain Woodhouse, alone under the shadowing trees of Queen's Terrace, drew in a long breath, shook his shoulders and started for the station and the midnight train to Alexandria.
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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devastating
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| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
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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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mazes
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| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
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scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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poised
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judiciously
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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discriminating
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anonymity
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| n.the condition of being anonymous | |
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abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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32
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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33
mosque
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| n.清真寺 | |
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34
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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35
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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36
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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37
hybrid
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| n.(动，植）杂种，混合物 | |
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38
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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39
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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40
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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41
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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42
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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43
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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44
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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45
Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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46
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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47
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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48
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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49
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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50
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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51
aspirants
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| n.有志向或渴望获得…的人( aspirant的名词复数 )v.渴望的，有抱负的，追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的第三人称单数 )；有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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52
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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53
glossed
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| v.注解( gloss的过去式和过去分词 )；掩饰（错误）；粉饰；把…搪塞过去 | |
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54
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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55
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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56
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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57
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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59
incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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60
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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61
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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62
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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63
avid
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| adj.热心的；贪婪的；渴望的；劲头十足的 | |
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avidly
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| adv.渴望地，热心地 | |
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65
tallies
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| n.账( tally的名词复数 )；符合；（计数的）签；标签v.计算，清点( tally的第三人称单数 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
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66
diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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67
talisman
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| n.避邪物，护身符 | |
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68
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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69
joviality
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| n.快活 | |
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70
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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71
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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72
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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73
buzzer
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| n.蜂鸣器；汽笛 | |
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74
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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75
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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76
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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77
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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78
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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79
alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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80
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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81
sprouting
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| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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82
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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83
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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84
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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85
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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86
yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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87
dissect
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| v.分割；解剖 | |
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88
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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89
eavesdropping
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| n. 偷听 | |
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90
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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91
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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92
mumble
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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93
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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94
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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95
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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96
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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97
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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98
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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99
surmounting
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| 战胜( surmount的现在分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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100
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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101
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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102
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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103
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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104
melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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105
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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107
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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108
sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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109
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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110
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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111
terse
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| adj.(说话，文笔)精炼的，简明的 | |
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112
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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113
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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114
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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115
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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116
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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