It was some weeks since the first untimely visitation of Jacques Saillard, but there had been many others at all hours of the day, while Raffles had been induced to pay at least one to her studio in the neighboring square. These intrusions he had endured at first with an air of humorous resignation which imposed upon me less than he imagined. The woman meant well, he said, after all, and could be trusted to keep his secret loyally. It was plain to me, however, that Raffles did not trust her, and that his pretence3 upon the point was a deliberate pose to conceal4 the extent to which she had him in her power. Otherwise there would have been little point in hiding anything from the one person in possession of the cardinal5 secret of his identity.
But Raffles thought it worth his while to hoodwink Jacques Saillard in the subsidiary matter of his health, in which Dr. Theobald lent him unwitting assistance, and, as we have seen, to impress upon her that I was actually his attendant, and as ignorant of his past as the doctor himself. "So you're all right, Bunny," he had assured me; "she thinks you knew nothing the other night. I told you she wasn't a clever woman outside her work. But hasn't she a will!" I told Raffles it was very considerate of him to keep me out of it, but that it seemed to me like tying up the bag when the cat had escaped. His reply was an admission that one must be on the defensive7 with such a woman and in such a case. Soon after this, Raffles, looking far from well, fell back upon his own last line of defence, namely, his bed; and now, as always in the end, I could see some sense in his subtleties8, since it was comparatively easy for me to turn even Jacques Saillard from the door, with Dr. Theobald's explicit9 injunctions, and with my own honesty unquestioned. So for a day we had peace once more. Then came letters, then the doctor again and again, and finally my dismissal in the incredible words which have necessitated10 these explanations.
"Go?" I echoed. "Go where?"
"On my going altogether?"
He nodded.
"And you mean to let him have his way?"
I had no language for my mortification11 and disgust, though neither was as yet quite so great as my surprise. I had foreseen almost every conceivable consequence of the mad act which brought all this trouble to pass, but a voluntary division between Raffles and me had certainly never entered my calculations. Nor could I think that it had occurred to him before our egregious12 doctor's last visit, this very morning. Raffles had looked irritated as he broke the news to me from his pillow, and now there was some sympathy in the way he sat up in bed, as though he felt the thing himself.
"I am obliged to give in to the fellow," said he. "He's saving me from my friend, and I'm bound to humor him. But I can tell you that we've been arguing about you for the last half hour, Bunny. It was no use; the idiot has had his knife in you from the first; and he wouldn't see me through on any other conditions."
"So he is going to see you through, is he?"
"It tots up to that," said Raffles, looking at me rather hard. "At all events he has come to my rescue for the time being, and it's for me to manage the rest. You don't know what it has been, Bunny, these last few weeks; and gallantry forbids that I should tell you even now. But would you rather elope against your will, or have your continued existence made known to the world in general and the police in particular? That is practically the problem which I have had to solve, and the temporary solution was to fall ill. As a matter of fact, I am ill; and now what do you think? I owe it to you to tell you, Bunny, though it goes against the grain. She would take me 'to the dear, warm underworld, where the sun really shines,' and she would 'nurse me back to life and love!' The artistic13 temperament14 is a fearsome thing, Bunny, in a woman with the devil's own will!"
Raffles tore up the letter from which he had read these piquant15 extracts, and lay back on the pillows with the tired air of the veritable invalid16 which he seemed able to assume at will. But for once he did look as though bed was the best place for him; and I used the fact as an argument for my own retention17 in defiance18 of Dr. Theobald. The town was full of typhoid, I said, and certainly that autumnal scourge19 was in the air. Did he want me to leave him at the very moment when he might be sickening for a serious illness?
"You know I don't, my good fellow," said Raffles, wearily; "but Theobald does, and I can't afford to go against him now. Not that I really care what happens to me now that that woman knows I'm in the land of the living; she'll let it out, to a dead certainty, and at the best there'll be a hue20 and cry, which is the very thing I have escaped all these years. Now, what I want you to do is to go and take some quiet place somewhere, and then let me know, so that I may have a port in the storm when it breaks."
"Now you're talking!" I cried, recovering my spirits. "I thought you meant to go and drop a fellow altogether!"
"Exactly the sort of thing you would think," rejoined Raffles, with a contempt that was welcome enough after my late alarm. "No, my dear rabbit, what you've got to do is to make a new burrow21 for us both. Try down the Thames, in some quiet nook that a literary man would naturally select. I've often thought that more use might be made of a boat, while the family are at dinner, than there ever has been yet. If Raffles is to come to life, old chap, he shall go a-Raffling for all he's worth! There's something to be done with a bicycle, too. Try Ham Common or Roehampton, or some such sleepy hollow a trifle off the line; and say you're expecting your brother from the colonies."
Into this arrangement I entered without the slightest hesitation22, for we had funds enough to carry it out on a comfortable scale, and Raffles placed a sufficient share at my disposal for the nonce. Moreover, I for one was only too glad to seek fresh fields and pastures new—a phrase which I determined23 to interpret literally24 in my choice of fresh surroundings. I was tired of our submerged life in the poky little flat, especially now that we had money enough for better things. I myself of late had dark dealings with the receivers, with the result that poor Lord Ernest Belville's successes were now indeed ours. Subsequent complications had been the more galling26 on that account, while the wanton way in which they had been created was the most irritating reflection of all. But it had brought its own punishment upon Raffles, and I fancied the lesson would prove salutary when we again settled down.
"If ever we do, Bunny!" said he, as I took his hand and told him how I was already looking forward to the time.
"But of course we will!" I cried, concealing27 the resentment28 at leaving him which his tone and his appearance renewed in my breast.
"I'm not so sure of it," he said, gloomily. "I'm in somebody's clutches, and I've got to get out of them first."
"I'll sit tight until you do."
"Well," he said, "if you don't see me in ten days you never will."
"Only ten days?" I echoed. "That's nothing at all."
"A lot may happen in ten days," replied Raffles, in the same depressing tone, so very depressing in him; and with that he held out his hand a second time, and dropped mine suddenly after as sudden a pressure for farewell.
I left the flat in considerable dejection after all, unable to decide whether Raffles was really ill, or only worried as I knew him to be. And at the foot of the stairs the author of my dismissal, that confounded Theobald, flung open his door and waylaid29 me.
"Are you going?" he demanded.
The traps in my hands proclaimed that I was, but I dropped them at his feet to have it out with him then and there.
"Yes," I answered fiercely, "thanks to you!"
"Well, my good fellow," he said, his full-blooded face lightening and softening30 at the same time, as though a load were off his mind, "it's no pleasure to me to deprive any man of his billet, but you never were a nurse, and you know that as well as I do."
I began to wonder what he meant, and how much he did know, and my speculations32 kept me silent. "But come in here a moment," he continued, just as I decided33 that he knew nothing at all. And, leading me into his minute consulting-room, Dr. Theobald solemnly presented me with a sovereign by way of compensation, which I pocketed as solemnly, and with as much gratitude34 as if I had not fifty of them distributed over my person as it was. The good fellow had quite forgotten my social status, about which he himself had been so particular at our earliest interview; but he had never accustomed himself to treat me as a gentleman, and I do not suppose he had been improving his memory by the tall tumbler which I saw him poke35 behind a photograph as we entered.
"There's one thing I should like to know before I go," said I, turning suddenly on the doctor's mat, "and that is whether Mr. Maturin is really ill or not!"
I meant, of course, at the present moment, but Dr. Theobald braced36 himself like a recruit at the drill-sergeant's voice.
"Of course he is," he snapped—"so ill as to need a nurse who can nurse, by way of a change."
With that his door shut in my face, and I had to go my way, in the dark as to whether he had mistaken my meaning, and was telling me a lie, or not.
But for my misgivings37 upon this point I might have extracted some very genuine enjoyment38 out of the next few days. I had decent clothes to my back, with money, as I say, in most of the pockets, and more freedom to spend it than was possible in the constant society of a man whose personal liberty depended on a universal supposition that he was dead. Raffles was as bold as ever, and I as fond of him, but whereas he would run any risk in a professional exploit, there were many innocent recreations still open to me which would have been sheer madness in him. He could not even watch a match, from the sixpenny seats, at Lord's cricket-ground, where the Gentlemen were every year in a worse way without him. He never travelled by rail, and dining out was a risk only to be run with some ulterior object in view. In fact, much as it had changed, Raffles could no longer show his face with perfect impunity39 in any quarter or at any hour. Moreover, after the lesson he had now learnt, I foresaw increased caution on his part in this respect. But I myself was under no such perpetual disadvantage, and, while what was good enough for Raffles was quite good enough for me so long as we were together, I saw no harm in profiting by the present opportunity of "doing my-self well."
Such were my reflections on the way to Richmond in a hansom cab. Richmond had struck us both as the best centre of operations in search of the suburban40 retreat which Raffles wanted, and by road, in a well-appointed, well-selected hansom, was certainly the most agreeable way of getting there. In a week or ten days Raffles was to write to me at the Richmond post-office, but for at least a week I should be "on my own." It was not an unpleasant sensation as I leant back in the comfortable hansom, and rather to one side, in order to have a good look at myself in the bevelled mirror that is almost as great an improvement in these vehicles as the rubber tires. Really I was not an ill-looking youth, if one may call one's self such at the age of thirty. I could lay no claim either to the striking cast of countenance41 or to the peculiar42 charm of expression which made the face of Raffles like no other in the world. But this very distinction was in itself a danger, for its impression was indelible, whereas I might still have been mistaken for a hundred other young fellows at large in London. Incredible as it may appear to the moralists, I had sustained no external hallmark by my term of imprisonment44, and I am vain enough to believe that the evil which I did had not a separate existence in my face. This afternoon, indeed, I was struck by the purity of my fresh complexion45, and rather depressed46 by the general innocence47 of the visage which peered into mine from the little mirror. My straw-colored moustache, grown in the flat after a protracted48 holiday, again preserved the most disappointing dimensions, and was still invisible in certain lights without wax. So far from discerning the desperate criminal who has "done time" once, and deserved it over and over again, the superior but superficial observer might have imagined that he detected a certain element of folly49 in my face.
At all events it was not the face to shut the doors of a first-class hotel against me, without accidental evidence of a more explicit kind, and it was with no little satisfaction that I directed the man to drive to the Star and Garter. I also told him to go through Richmond Park, though he warned me that it would add considerably50 to the distance and his fare. It was autumn, and it struck me that the tints51 would be fine. And I had learnt from Raffles to appreciate such things, even amid the excitement of an audacious enterprise.
If I dwell upon my appreciation52 of this occasion it is because, like most pleasures, it was exceedingly short-lived. I was very comfortable at the Star and Garter, which was so empty that I had a room worthy53 of a prince, where I could enjoy the finest of all views (in patriotic54 opinion) every morning while I shaved. I walked many miles through the noble park, over the commons of Ham and Wimbledon, and one day as far as that of Esher, where I was forcibly reminded of a service we once rendered to a distinguished55 resident in this delightful56 locality. But it was on Ham Common, one of the places which Raffles had mentioned as specially25 desirable, that I actually found an almost ideal retreat. This was a cottage where I heard, on inquiry57, that rooms were to be let in the summer. The landlady58, a motherly body, of visible excellence59, was surprised indeed at receiving an application for the winter months; but I have generally found that the title of "author," claimed with an air, explains every little innocent irregularity of conduct or appearance, and even requires something of the kind to carry conviction to the lay intelligence. The present case was one in point, and when I said that I could only write in a room facing north, on mutton chops and milk, with a cold ham in the wardrobe in case of nocturnal inspiration, to which I was liable, my literary character was established beyond dispute. I secured the rooms, paid a month's rent in advance at my own request, and moped in them dreadfully until the week was up and Raffles due any day. I explained that the inspiration would not come, and asked abruptly60 if the mutton was New Zealand.
Thrice had I made fruitless inquiries61 at the Richmond post-office; but on the tenth day I was in and out almost every hour. Not a word was there for me up to the last post at night. Home I trudged62 to Ham with horrible forebodings, and back again to Richmond after breakfast next morning. Still there was nothing. I could bear it no more. At ten minutes to eleven I was climbing the station stairs at Earl's Court.
It was a wretched morning there, a weeping mist shrouding63 the long, straight street, and clinging to one's face in clammy caresses64. I felt how much better it was down at Ham, as I turned into our side street, and saw the flats looming65 like mountains, the chimney-pots hidden in the mist. At our entrance stood a nebulous conveyance66, that I took at first for a tradesman's van; to my horror it proved to be a hearse; and all at once the white breath ceased upon my lips.
I had looked up at our windows and the blinds were down!
I rushed within. The doctor's door stood open. I neither knocked nor rang, but found him in his consulting-room with red eyes and a blotchy67 face. Otherwise he was in solemn black from head to heel.
"Who is dead?" I burst out. "Who is dead?"
The red eyes looked redder than ever as Dr. Theobald opened them at the unwarrantable sight of me; and he was terribly slow in answering. But in the end he did answer, and did not kick me out as he evidently had a mind.
"Mr. Maturin," he said, and sighed like a beaten man.
I said nothing. It was no surprise to me. I had known it all these minutes. Nay68, I had dreaded69 this from the first, had divined it at the last, though to the last also I had refused to entertain my own conviction. Raffles dead! A real invalid after all! Raffles dead, and on the point of burial!
"What did he die of?" I asked, unconsciously drawing on that fund of grim self-control which the weakest of us seem to hold in reserve for real calamity70.
"Typhoid," he answered. "Kensington is full of it."
"He was sickening for it when I left, and you knew it, and could get rid of me then!"
"My good fellow, I was obliged to have a more experienced nurse for that very reason."
The doctor's tone was so conciliatory that I remembered in an instant what a humbug71 the man was, and became suddenly possessed72 with the vague conviction that he was imposing73 upon me now.
"Are you sure it was typhoid at all?" I cried fiercely to his face. "Are you sure it wasn't suicide—or murder?"
I confess that I can see little point in this speech as I write it down, but it was what I said in a burst of grief and of wild suspicion; nor was it without effect upon Dr. Theobald, who turned bright scarlet74 from his well-brushed hair to his immaculate collar.
"Do you want me to throw you out into the street?" he cried; and all at once I remembered that I had come to Raffles as a perfect stranger, and for his sake might as well preserve that character to the last.
"I beg your pardon," I said, brokenly. "He was so good to me—I became so attached to him. You forget I am originally of his class."
"I did forget it," replied Theobald, looking relieved at my new tone, "and I beg YOUR pardon for doing so. Hush75! They are bringing him down. I must have a drink before we start, and you'd better join me."
There was no pretence about his drink this time, and a pretty stiff one it was, but I fancy my own must have run it hard. In my case it cast a merciful haze76 over much of the next hour, which I can truthfully describe as one of the most painful of my whole existence. I can have known very little of what I was doing. I only remember finding myself in a hansom, suddenly wondering why it was going so slowly, and once more awaking to the truth. But it was to the truth itself more than to the liquor that I must have owed my dazed condition. My next recollection is of looking down into the open grave, in a sudden passionate77 anxiety to see the name for myself. It was not the name of my friend, of course, but it was the one under which he had passed for many months.
I was still stupefied by a sense of inconceivable loss, and had not raised my eyes from that which was slowly forcing me to realize what had happened, when there was a rustle78 at my elbow, and a shower of hothouse flowers passed before them, falling like huge snowflakes where my gaze had rested. I looked up, and at my side stood a majestic79 figure in deep mourning. The face was carefully veiled, but I was too close not to recognize the masterful beauty whom the world knew as Jacques Saillard. I had no sympathy with her; on the contrary, my blood boiled with the vague conviction that in some way she was responsible for this death. Yet she was the only woman present—there were not a half a dozen of us altogether—and her flowers were the only flowers.
The melancholy80 ceremony was over, and Jacques Saillard had departed in a funeral brougham, evidently hired for the occasion. I had watched her drive away, and the sight of my own cabman, making signs to me through the fog, had suddenly reminded me that I had bidden him to wait. I was the last to leave, and had turned my back upon the grave-diggers, already at their final task, when a hand fell lightly but firmly upon my shoulder.
"I don't want to make a scene in a cemetery," said a voice, in a not unkindly, almost confidential81 whisper. "Will you get into your own cab and come quietly?"
"Who on earth are you?" I exclaimed.
I now remembered having seen the fellow hovering82 about during the funeral, and subconsciously83 taking him for the undertaker's head man. He had certainly that appearance, and even now I could scarcely believe that he was anything else.
"My name won't help you," he said, pityingly. "But you will guess where I come from when I tell you I have a warrant for your arrest."
My sensations at this announcement may not be believed, but I solemnly declare that I have seldom experienced so fierce a satisfaction. Here was a new excitement in which to drown my grief; here was something to think about; and I should be spared the intolerable experience of a solitary84 return to the little place at Ham. It was as though I had lost a limb and some one had struck me so hard in the face that the greater agony was forgotten. I got into the hansom without a word, my captor following at my heels, and giving his own directions to the cabman before taking his seat. The word "station" was the only one I caught, and I wondered whether it was to be Bow Street again. My companion's next words, however, or rather the tone in which he uttered them, destroyed my capacity for idle speculation31.
"Mr. Maturin!" said he. "Mr. Maturin indeed!"
"Well," said I, "what about him?"
"Do you think we don't know who he was?"
"You ought to know," said he. "You got locked up through him the other time, too. His favorite name was Raffles then."
"It was his real name," I said, indignantly. "And he has been dead for years."
"He's at the bottom of the sea, I tell you!"
But I do not know why I should have told him with such spirit, for what could it matter to Raffles now? I did not think; instinct was still stronger than reason, and, fresh from his funeral, I had taken up the cudgels for my dead friend as though he were still alive. Next moment I saw this for myself, and my tears came nearer the surface than they had been yet; but the fellow at my side laughed outright87.
"Shall I tell you something else?" said he.
"As you like."
"He's not even at the bottom of that grave! He's no more dead than you or I, and a sham88 burial is his latest piece of villainy!"
I doubt whether I could have spoken if I had tried. I did not try. I had no use for speech. I did not even ask him if he was sure, I was so sure myself. It was all as plain to me as riddles89 usually are when one has the answer. The doctor's alarms, his unscrupulous venality90, the simulated illness, my own dismissal, each fitted in its obvious place, and not even the last had power as yet to mar43 my joy in the one central fact to which all the rest were as tapers91 to the sun.
"He is alive!" I cried. "Nothing else matters—he is alive!"
At last I did ask whether they had got him too; but thankful as I was for the greater knowledge, I confess that I did not much care what answer I received. Already I was figuring out how much we might each get, and how old we should be when we came out. But my companion tilted92 his hat to the back of his head, at the same time putting his face close to mine, and compelling my scrutiny93. And my answer, as you have already guessed, was the face of Raffles himself, superbly disguised (but less superbly than his voice), and yet so thinly that I should have known him in a trice had I not been too miserable94 in the beginning to give him a second glance.
Jacques Saillard had made his life impossible, and this was the one escape. Raffles had bought the doctor for a thousand pounds, and the doctor had bought a "nurse" of his own kidney, on his own account; me, for some reason, he would not trust; he had insisted upon my dismissal as an essential preliminary to his part in the conspiracy95. Here the details were half-humorous, half-grewsome, each in turn as Raffles told me the story. At one period he had been very daringly drugged indeed, and, in his own words, "as dead as a man need be"; but he had left strict instructions that nobody but the nurse and "my devoted96 physician" should "lay a finger on me" afterwards; and by virtue97 of this proviso a library of books (largely acquired for the occasion) had been impiously interred98 at Kensal Green. Raffles had definitely undertaken not to trust me with the secret, and, but for my untoward99 appearance at the funeral (which he had attended for his own final satisfaction), I was assured and am convinced that he would have kept his promise to the letter. In explaining this he gave me the one explanation I desired, and in another moment we turned into Praed Street, Paddington.
"And I thought you said Bow Street!" said I. "Are you coming straight down to Richmond with me?"
"I may as well," said Raffles, "though I did mean to get my kit100 first, so as to start in fair and square as the long-lost brother from the bush. That's why I hadn't written. The function was a day later than I calculated. I was going to write to-night."
"But what are we to do?" said I, hesitating when he had paid the cab. "I have been playing the colonies for all they are worth!"
"Oh, I've lost my luggage," said he, "or a wave came into my cabin and spoilt every stitch, or I had nothing fit to bring ashore101. We'll settle that in the train."
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1
raffles
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| n.抽彩售物( raffle的名词复数 )v.以抽彩方式售（物）( raffle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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egregious
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| adj.非常的，过分的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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retention
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| n.保留，保持，保持力，记忆力 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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galling
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| adj.难堪的,使烦恼的,使焦躁的 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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waylaid
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| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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34
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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35
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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36
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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37
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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38
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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43
mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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44
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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45
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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51
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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52
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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58
landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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shrouding
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| n.覆盖v.隐瞒( shroud的现在分词 )；保密 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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blotchy
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| adj.有斑点的，有污渍的；斑污 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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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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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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82
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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83
subconsciously
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| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
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84
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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85
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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86
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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88
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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89
riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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90
venality
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| n.贪赃枉法，腐败 | |
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91
tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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92
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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93
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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94
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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95
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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96
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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97
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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98
interred
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| v.埋，葬( inter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
untoward
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| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
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100
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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101
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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