His original purpose had been wholly paternal7 and festive8. But, like many other intelligent people, he was not above the weakness of playing with a toy to amuse himself, on the theory that it would amuse a child. His toys were crowns and miters and croziers and swords of state; and he had lingered over them, telling himself that the boy ought to see all the sights of London. And at the end of the day, after a tremendous tea, he rather gave the game away by winding9 up with a visit in which hardly any human boy could be conceived as taking an interest—an underground chamber10 supposed to have been a chapel11, recently excavated12 on the north bank of the Thames, and containing literally13 nothing whatever but one old silver coin. But the coin, to those who knew, was more solitary14 and splendid than the Koh-i-noor. It was Roman, and was said to bear the head of St. Paul; and round it raged the most vital controversies15 about the ancient British Church. It could hardly be denied, however, that the controversies left Summers Minor comparatively cold.
Indeed, the things that interested Summers Minor, and the things that did not interest him, had mystified and amused his uncle for several hours. He exhibited the English schoolboy's startling ignorance and startling knowledge—knowledge of some special classification in which he can generally correct and confound his elders. He considered himself entitled, at Hampton Court on a holiday, to forget the very names of Cardinal17 Wolsey or William of Orange; but he could hardly be dragged from some details about the arrangement of the electric bells in the neighboring hotel. He was solidly dazed by Westminster Abbey, which is not so unnatural18 since that church became the lumber19 room of the larger and less successful statuary of the eighteenth century. But he had a magic and minute knowledge of the Westminster omnibuses, and indeed of the whole omnibus system of London, the colors and numbers of which he knew as a herald20 knows heraldry. He would cry out against a momentary21 confusion between a light-green Paddington and a dark-green Bayswater vehicle, as his uncle would at the identification of a Greek ikon and a Roman image.
"Do you collect omnibuses like stamps?" asked his uncle. "They must need a rather large album. Or do you keep them in your locker22?"
"I keep them in my head," replied the nephew, with legitimate23 firmness.
"It does you credit, I admit," replied the clergyman. "I suppose it were vain to ask for what purpose you have learned that out of a thousand things. There hardly seems to be a career in it, unless you could be permanently24 on the pavement to prevent old ladies getting into the wrong bus. Well, we must get out of this one, for this is our place. I want to show you what they call St. Paul's Penny."
"Is it like St. Paul's Cathedral?" asked the youth with resignation, as they alighted.
At the entrance their eyes were arrested by a singular figure evidently hovering25 there with a similar anxiety to enter. It was that of a dark, thin man in a long black robe rather like a cassock; but the black cap on his head was of too strange a shape to be a biretta. It suggested, rather, some archaic26 headdress of Persia or Babylon. He had a curious black beard appearing only at the corners of his chin, and his large eyes were oddly set in his face like the flat decorative27 eyes painted in old Egyptian profiles. Before they had gathered more than a general impression of him, he had dived into the doorway28 that was their own destination.
Nothing could be seen above ground of the sunken sanctuary29 except a strong wooden hut, of the sort recently run up for many military and official purposes, the wooden floor of which was indeed a mere30 platform over the excavated cavity below. A soldier stood as a sentry31 outside, and a superior soldier, an Anglo-Indian officer of distinction, sat writing at the desk inside. Indeed, the sightseers soon found that this particular sight was surrounded with the most extraordinary precautions. I have compared the silver coin to the Koh-i-noor, and in one sense it was even conventionally comparable, since by a historical accident it was at one time almost counted among the Crown jewels, or at least the Crown relics32, until one of the royal princes publicly restored it to the shrine34 to which it was supposed to belong. Other causes combined to concentrate official vigilance upon it; there had been a scare about spies carrying explosives in small objects, and one of those experimental orders which pass like waves over bureaucracy had decreed first that all visitors should change their clothes for a sort of official sackcloth, and then (when this method caused some murmurs) that they should at least turn out their pockets. Colonel Morris, the officer in charge, was a short, active man with a grim and leathery face, but a lively and humorous eye—a contradiction borne out by his conduct, for he at once derided35 the safeguards and yet insisted on them.
"I don't care a button myself for Paul's Penny, or such things," he admitted in answer to some antiquarian openings from the clergyman who was slightly acquainted with him, "but I wear the King's coat, you know, and it's a serious thing when the King's uncle leaves a thing here with his own hands under my charge. But as for saints and relics and things, I fear I'm a bit of a Voltairian; what you would call a skeptic36."
"I'm not sure it's even skeptical37 to believe in the royal family and not in the 'Holy' Family," replied Mr. Twyford. "But, of course, I can easily empty my pockets, to show I don't carry a bomb."
The little heap of the parson's possessions which he left on the table consisted chiefly of papers, over and above a pipe and a tobacco pouch38 and some Roman and Saxon coins. The rest were catalogues of old books, and pamphlets, like one entitled "The Use of Sarum," one glance at which was sufficient both for the colonel and the schoolboy. They could not see the use of Sarum at all. The contents of the boy's pockets naturally made a larger heap, and included marbles, a ball of string, an electric torch, a magnet, a small catapult, and, of course, a large pocketknife, almost to be described as a small tool box, a complex apparatus39 on which he seemed disposed to linger, pointing out that it included a pair of nippers, a tool for punching holes in wood, and, above all, an instrument for taking stones out of a horse's hoof40. The comparative absence of any horse he appeared to regard as irrelevant41, as if it were a mere appendage42 easily supplied. But when the turn came of the gentleman in the black gown, he did not turn out his pockets, but merely spread out his hands.
"I have no possessions," he said.
"I'm afraid I must ask you to empty your pockets and make sure," observed the colonel, gruffly.
"I have no pockets," said the stranger.
Mr. Twyford was looking at the long black gown with a learned eye.
"I am a magus," replied the stranger. "You have heard of the magi, perhaps? I am a magician."
"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Summers Minor, with prominent eyes.
"But I was once a monk," went on the other. "I am what you would call an escaped monk. Yes, I have escaped into eternity44. But the monks45 held one truth at least, that the highest life should be without possessions. I have no pocket money and no pockets, and all the stars are my trinkets."
"They are out of reach, anyhow," observed Colonel Morris, in a tone which suggested that it was well for them. "I've known a good many magicians myself in India—mango plant and all. But the Indian ones are all frauds, I'll swear. In fact, I had a good deal of fun showing them up. More fun than I have over this dreary46 job, anyhow. But here comes Mr. Symon, who will show you over the old cellar downstairs."
Mr. Symon, the official guardian47 and guide, was a young man, prematurely48 gray, with a grave mouth which contrasted curiously49 with a very small, dark mustache with waxed points, that seemed somehow, separate from it, as if a black fly had settled on his face. He spoke50 with the accent of Oxford51 and the permanent official, but in as dead a fashion as the most indifferent hired guide. They descended52 a dark stone staircase, at the floor of which Symon pressed a button and a door opened on a dark room, or, rather, a room which had an instant before been dark. For almost as the heavy iron door swung open an almost blinding blaze of electric lights filled the whole interior. The fitful enthusiasm of Stinks at once caught fire, and he eagerly asked if the lights and the door worked together.
"Yes, it's all one system," replied Symon. "It was all fitted up for the day His Royal Highness deposited the thing here. You see, it's locked up behind a glass case exactly as he left it."
A glance showed that the arrangements for guarding the treasure were indeed as strong as they were simple. A single pane53 of glass cut off one corner of the room, in an iron framework let into the rock walls and the wooden roof above; there was now no possibility of reopening the case without elaborate labor54, except by breaking the glass, which would probably arouse the night watchman who was always within a few feet of it, even if he had fallen asleep. A close examination would have showed many more ingenious safeguards; but the eye of the Rev. Thomas Twyford, at least, was already riveted55 on what interested him much more—the dull silver disk which shone in the white light against a plain background of black velvet56.
"St. Paul's Penny, said to commemorate57 the visit of St. Paul to Britain, was probably preserved in this chapel until the eighth century," Symon was saying in his clear but colorless voice. "In the ninth century it is supposed to have been carried away by the barbarians58, and it reappears, after the conversion59 of the northern Goths, in the possession of the royal family of Gothland. His Royal Highness, the Duke of Gothland, retained it always in his own private custody60, and when he decided61 to exhibit it to the public, placed it here with his own hand. It was immediately sealed up in such a manner—"
Unluckily at this point Summers Minor, whose attention had somewhat strayed from the religious wars of the ninth century, caught sight of a short length of wire appearing in a broken patch in the wall. He precipitated62 himself at it, calling out, "I say, does that connect?"
It was evident that it did connect, for no sooner had the boy given it a twitch63 than the whole room went black, as if they had all been struck blind, and an instant afterward64 they heard the dull crash of the closing door.
"Well, you've done it now," said Symon, in his tranquil65 fashion. Then after a pause he added, "I suppose they'll miss us sooner or later, and no doubt they can get it open; but it may take some little time."
There was a silence, and then the unconquerable Stinks observed:
"Rotten that I had to leave my electric torch."
"I think," said his uncle, with restraint, "that we are sufficiently66 convinced of your interest in electricity."
Then after a pause he remarked, more amiably67: "I suppose if I regretted any of my own impedimenta, it would be the pipe. Though, as a matter of fact, it's not much fun smoking in the dark. Everything seems different in the dark."
"Everything is different in the dark," said a third voice, that of the man who called himself a magician. It was a very musical voice, and rather in contrast with his sinister68 and swarthy visage, which was now invisible. "Perhaps you don't know how terrible a truth that is. All you see are pictures made by the sun, faces and furniture and flowers and trees. The things themselves may be quite strange to you. Something else may be standing69 now where you saw a table or a chair. The face of your friend may be quite different in the dark."
A short, indescribable noise broke the stillness. Twyford started for a second, and then said, sharply:
"Really, I don't think it's a suitable occasion for trying to frighten a child."
"Who's a child?" cried the indignant Summers, with a voice that had a crow, but also something of a crack in it. "And who's a funk, either? Not me."
"I will be silent, then," said the other voice out of the darkness.
"But silence also makes and unmakes."
The required silence remained unbroken for a long time until at last the clergyman said to Symon in a low voice:
"I suppose it's all right about air?"
"Oh, yes," replied the other aloud; "there's a fireplace and a chimney in the office just by the door."
A bound and the noise of a falling chair told them that the irrepressible rising generation had once more thrown itself across the room. They heard the ejaculation: "A chimney! Why, I'll be—" and the rest was lost in muffled70, but exultant71, cries.
The uncle called repeatedly and vainly, groped his way at last to the opening, and, peering up it, caught a glimpse of a disk of daylight, which seemed to suggest that the fugitive72 had vanished in safety. Making his way back to the group by the glass case, he fell over the fallen chair and took a moment to collect himself again. He had opened his mouth to speak to Symon, when he stopped, and suddenly found himself blinking in the full shock of the white light, and looking over the other man's shoulder, he saw that the door was standing open.
"So they've got at us at last," he observed to Symon.
The man in the black robe was leaning against the wall some yards away, with a smile carved on his face.
"Here comes Colonel Morris," went on Twyford, still speaking to Symon. "One of us will have to tell him how the light went out. Will you?"
But Symon still said nothing. He was standing as still as a statue, and looking steadily73 at the black velvet behind the glass screen. He was looking at the black velvet because there was nothing else to look at. St. Paul's Penny was gone.
Colonel Morris entered the room with two new visitors; presumably two new sightseers delayed by the accident. The foremost was a tall, fair, rather languid-looking man with a bald brow and a high-bridged nose; his companion was a younger man with light, curly hair and frank, and even innocent, eyes. Symon scarcely seemed to hear the newcomers; it seemed almost as if he had not realized that the return of the light revealed his brooding attitude. Then he started in a guilty fashion, and when he saw the elder of the two strangers, his pale face seemed to turn a shade paler.
"Why it's Horne Fisher!" and then after a pause he said in a low voice, "I'm in the devil of a hole, Fisher."
"There does seem a bit of a mystery to be cleared up," observed the gentleman so addressed.
"It will never be cleared up," said the pale Symon. "If anybody could clear it up, you could. But nobody could."
"I rather think I could," said another voice from outside the group, and they turned in surprise to realize that the man in the black robe had spoken again.
"You!" said the colonel, sharply. "And how do you propose to play the detective?"
"I do not propose to play the detective," answered the other, in a clear voice like a bell. "I propose to play the magician. One of the magicians you show up in India, Colonel."
No one spoke for a moment, and then Horne Fisher surprised everybody by saying, "Well, let's go upstairs, and this gentleman can have a try."
He stopped Symon, who had an automatic finger on the button, saying:
"No, leave all the lights on. It's a sort of safeguard."
"The thing can't be taken away now," said Symon, bitterly.
"It can be put back," replied Fisher.
Twyford had already run upstairs for news of his vanishing nephew, and he received news of him in a way that at once puzzled and reassured74 him. On the floor above lay one of those large paper darts75 which boys throw at each other when the schoolmaster is out of the room. It had evidently been thrown in at the window, and on being unfolded displayed a scrawl76 of bad handwriting which ran: "Dear Uncle; I am all right. Meet you at the hotel later on," and then the signature.
Insensibly comforted by this, the clergyman found his thoughts reverting77 voluntarily to his favorite relic33, which came a good second in his sympathies to his favorite nephew, and before he knew where he was he found himself encircled by the group discussing its loss, and more or less carried away on the current of their excitement. But an undercurrent of query78 continued to run in his mind, as to what had really happened to the boy, and what was the boy's exact definition of being all right.
Meanwhile Horne Fisher had considerably79 puzzled everybody with his new tone and attitude. He had talked to the colonel about the military and mechanical arrangements, and displayed a remarkable80 knowledge both of the details of discipline and the technicalities of electricity. He had talked to the clergyman, and shown an equally surprising knowledge of the religious and historical interests involved in the relic. He had talked to the man who called himself a magician, and not only surprised but scandalized the company by an equally sympathetic familiarity with the most fantastic forms of Oriental occultism and psychic82 experiment. And in this last and least respectable line of inquiry83 he was evidently prepared to go farthest; he openly encouraged the magician, and was plainly prepared to follow the wildest ways of investigation84 in which that magus might lead him.
"How would you begin now?" he inquired, with an anxious politeness that reduced the colonel to a congestion85 of rage.
"It is all a question of a force; of establishing communications for a force," replied that adept86, affably, ignoring some military mutterings about the police force. "It is what you in the West used to call animal magnetism87, but it is much more than that. I had better not say how much more. As to setting about it, the usual method is to throw some susceptible88 person into a trance, which serves as a sort of bridge or cord of communication, by which the force beyond can give him, as it were, an electric shock, and awaken89 his higher senses. It opens the sleeping eye of the mind."
"I'm suspectible," said Fisher, either with simplicity90 or with a baffling irony91. "Why not open my mind's eye for me? My friend Harold March here will tell you I sometimes see things, even in the dark."
"Nobody sees anything except in the dark," said the magician.
Heavy clouds of sunset were closing round the wooden hut, enormous clouds, of which only the corners could be seen in the little window, like purple horns and tails, almost as if some huge monsters were prowling round the place. But the purple was already deepening to dark gray; it would soon be night.
"Do not light the lamp," said the magus with quiet authority, arresting a movement in that direction. "I told you before that things happen only in the dark."
How such a topsy-turvy scene ever came to be tolerated in the colonel's office, of all places, was afterward a puzzle in the memory of many, including the colonel. They recalled it like a sort of nightmare, like something they could not control. Perhaps there was really a magnetism about the mesmerist; perhaps there was even more magnetism about the man mesmerized92. Anyhow, the man was being mesmerized, for Horne Fisher had collapsed93 into a chair with his long limbs loose and sprawling94 and his eyes staring at vacancy95; and the other man was mesmerizing96 him, making sweeping97 movements with his darkly draped arms as if with black wings. The colonel had passed the point of explosion, and he dimly realized that eccentric aristocrats98 are allowed their fling. He comforted himself with the knowledge that he had already sent for the police, who would break up any such masquerade, and with lighting99 a cigar, the red end of which, in the gathering100 darkness, glowed with protest.
"Yes, I see pockets," the man in the trance was saying. "I see many pockets, but they are all empty. No; I see one pocket that is not empty."
There was a faint stir in the stillness, and the magician said, "Can you see what is in the pocket?"
"Yes," answered the other; "there are two bright things. I think they are two bits of steel. One of the pieces of steel is bent101 or crooked102."
"Have they been used in the removal of the relic from downstairs?"
"Yes."
There was another pause and the inquirer added, "Do you see anything of the relic itself?"
"I see something shining on the floor, like the shadow or the ghost of it. It is over there in the corner beyond the desk."
There was a movement of men turning and then a sudden stillness, as of their stiffening103, for over in the corner on the wooden floor there was really a round spot of pale light. It was the only spot of light in the room. The cigar had gone out.
"It points the way," came the voice of the oracle104. "The spirits are pointing the way to penitence105, and urging the thief to restitution106. I can see nothing more." His voice trailed off into a silence that lasted solidly for many minutes, like the long silence below when the theft had been committed. Then it was broken by the ring of metal on the floor, and the sound of something spinning and falling like a tossed halfpenny.
"Light the lamp!" cried Fisher in a loud and even jovial107 voice, leaping to his feet with far less languor108 than usual. "I must be going now, but I should like to see it before I go. Why, I came on purpose to see it."
The lamp was lit, and he did see it, for St. Paul's Penny was lying on the floor at his feet.
"Oh, as for that," explained Fisher, when he was entertaining March and Twyford at lunch about a month later, "I merely wanted to play with the magician at his own game."
"I thought you meant to catch him in his own trap," said Twyford. "I can't make head or tail of anything yet, but to my mind he was always the suspect. I don't think he was necessarily a thief in the vulgar sense. The police always seem to think that silver is stolen for the sake of silver, but a thing like that might well be stolen out of some religious mania109. A runaway110 monk turned mystic might well want it for some mystical purpose."
"No," replied Fisher, "the runaway monk is not a thief. At any rate he is not the thief. And he's not altogether a liar81, either. He said one true thing at least that night."
"And what was that?" inquired March.
"He said it was all magnetism. As a matter of fact, it was done by means of a magnet." Then, seeing they still looked puzzled, he added, "It was that toy magnet belonging to your nephew, Mr. Twyford."
"But I don't understand," objected March. "If it was done with the schoolboy's magnet, I suppose it was done by the schoolboy."
"Well," replied Fisher, reflectively, "it rather depends which schoolboy."
"What on earth do you mean?"
"The soul of a schoolboy is a curious thing," Fisher continued, in a meditative111 manner. "It can survive a great many things besides climbing out of a chimney. A man can grow gray in great campaigns, and still have the soul of a schoolboy. A man can return with a great reputation from India and be put in charge of a great public treasure, and still have the soul of a schoolboy, waiting to be awakened112 by an accident. And it is ten times more so when to the schoolboy you add the skeptic, who is generally a sort of stunted113 schoolboy. You said just now that things might be done by religious mania. Have you ever heard of irreligious mania? I assure you it exists very violently, especially in men who like showing up magicians in India. But here the skeptic had the temptation of showing up a much more tremendous sham114 nearer home."
A light came into Harold March's eyes as he suddenly saw, as if afar off, the wider implication of the suggestion. But Twyford was still wrestling with one problem at a time.
"Do you really mean," he said, "that Colonel Morris took the relic?"
"He was the only person who could use the magnet," replied Fisher. "In fact, your obliging nephew left him a number of things he could use. He had a ball of string, and an instrument for making a hole in the wooden floor—I made a little play with that hole in the floor in my trance, by the way; with the lights left on below, it shone like a new shilling." Twyford suddenly bounded on his chair. "But in that case," he cried, in a new and altered voice, "why then of course— You said a piece of steel—?"
"I said there were two pieces of steel," said Fisher. "The bent piece of steel was the boy's magnet. The other was the relic in the glass case."
"But that is silver," answered the archaeologist, in a voice now almost unrecognizable.
"Oh," replied Fisher, soothingly115, "I dare say it was painted with silver a little."
There was a heavy silence, and at last Harold March said, "But where is the real relic?"
"Where it has been for five years," replied Horne Fisher, "in the possession of a mad millionaire named Vandam, in Nebraska. There was a playful little photograph about him in a society paper the other day, mentioning his delusion116, and saying he was always being taken in about relics."
Harold March frowned at the tablecloth117; then, after an interval118, he said: "I think I understand your notion of how the thing was actually done; according to that, Morris just made a hole and fished it up with a magnet at the end of a string. Such a monkey trick looks like mere madness, but I suppose he was mad, partly with the boredom119 of watching over what he felt was a fraud, though he couldn't prove it. Then came a chance to prove it, to himself at least, and he had what he called 'fun' with it. Yes, I think I see a lot of details now. But it's just the whole thing that knocks me. How did it all come to be like that?"
Fisher was looking at him with level lids and an immovable manner.
"Every precaution was taken," he said. "The Duke carried the relic on his own person, and locked it up in the case with his own hands."
You give me the creeps. Why don't you speak plainer?"
"If I spoke plainer you would understand me less," said Horne
Fisher.
"All the same I should try," said March, still without lifting his head.
"Oh, very well," replied Fisher, with a sigh; "the plain truth is, of course, that it's a bad business. Everybody knows it's a bad business who knows anything about it. But it's always happening, and in one way one can hardly blame them. They get stuck on to a foreign princess that's as stiff as a Dutch doll, and they have their fling. In this case it was a pretty big fling."
The face of the Rev. Thomas Twyford certainly suggested that he was a little out of his depth in the seas of truth, but as the other went on speaking vaguely121 the old gentleman's features sharpened and set.
"If it were some decent morganatic affair I wouldn't say; but he must have been a fool to throw away thousands on a woman like that. At the end it was sheer blackmail122; but it's something that the old ass16 didn't get it out of the taxpayers123. He could only get it out of the Yank, and there you are."
The Rev. Thomas Twyford had risen to his feet.
"Well, I'm glad my nephew had nothing to do with it," he said. "And if that's what the world is like, I hope he will never have anything to do with it."
"I hope not," answered Horne Fisher. "No one knows so well as I do that one can have far too much to do with it."
For Summers Minor had indeed nothing to do with it; and it is part of his higher significance that he has really nothing to do with the story, or with any such stories. The boy went like a bullet through the tangle124 of this tale of crooked politics and crazy mockery and came out on the other side, pursuing his own unspoiled purposes. From the top of the chimney he climbed he had caught sight of a new omnibus, whose color and name he had never known, as a naturalist125 might see a new bird or a botanist126 a new flower. And he had been sufficiently enraptured127 in rushing after it, and riding away upon that fairy ship.
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zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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4
stinks
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| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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5
rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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10
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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excavated
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| v.挖掘( excavate的过去式和过去分词 )；开凿；挖出；发掘 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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controversies
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| 争论 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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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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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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25
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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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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28
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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29
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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30
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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31
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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32
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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34
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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35
derided
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| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
skeptic
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| n.怀疑者，怀疑论者，无神论者 | |
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37
skeptical
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| adj.怀疑的，多疑的 | |
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38
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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39
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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40
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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41
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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42
appendage
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| n.附加物 | |
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43
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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44
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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45
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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46
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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47
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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48
prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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49
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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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
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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52
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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53
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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54
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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55
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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56
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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57
commemorate
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| vt.纪念，庆祝 | |
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58
barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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59
conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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60
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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61
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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62
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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63
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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64
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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65
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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66
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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67
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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68
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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69
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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70
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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71
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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72
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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73
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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74
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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75
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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76
scrawl
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| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
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77
reverting
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| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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78
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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79
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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80
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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81
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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82
psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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83
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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84
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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85
congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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86
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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87
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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88
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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89
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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90
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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91
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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92
mesmerized
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| v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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94
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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95
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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96
mesmerizing
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| adj.有吸引力的，有魅力的v.使入迷( mesmerize的现在分词 ) | |
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97
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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98
aristocrats
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| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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99
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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100
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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101
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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102
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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103
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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104
oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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105
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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106
restitution
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| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
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107
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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108
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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109
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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110
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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111
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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112
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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113
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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114
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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115
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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116
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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117
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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118
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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119
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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120
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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122
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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123
taxpayers
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| 纳税人，纳税的机构( taxpayer的名词复数 ) | |
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124
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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125
naturalist
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| n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
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126
botanist
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| n.植物学家 | |
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127
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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