I was as keen as the rest of them, but there was one feature of the secret investigations4 that I detested—the dragging in of Carol Whitehall's name. It couldn't be helped. The affair had taken place in her offices, but it was hateful to me to hear her mentioned in our conferences, even though it was merely as an outside figure, a person as ignorant of the true state of the case as Troop or Mrs. Hansen.
The tapped phone message and the subsequent trip to Rochester had given me no end of a jar. Up till then I couldn't imagine her as caring for Barker. Everybody admitted that his private life had been beyond reproach—entirely free from entanglements5 with women—but even so I couldn't picture the girl I'd met in New Jersey6 in love with him. He was between fifty and sixty, more than twice her age. George said it was his money, but George has lived among the fashionable rich, women who'd marry an octogenarian for a house on Fifth Avenue and a string of pearls. I would have staked my last dollar she wasn't that kind—proud and pure as Diana, only giving herself where her heart went first.
But if it had been hard to imagine her as fond of Barker the magnate, what was it now when he was Barker the murderer? It made me sick. All I could hope for was that we'd get him and save the unfortunate girl by showing her what he was. And while we were doing this it was up to us to keep her out of it, shield her and protect her in every possible way. She was a lady, the kind of woman that every man wants to keep aloof7 from anything sordid8 and brutal9.
I was thinking this one morning, a few days after our last séance, on my way to the office. I had been detained on work uptown and was late, entering upon a conference of the chief, George and O'Mally. When I heard what they'd been evolving, I didn't show the expected enthusiasm. Miss Whitehall was to be asked to come to Whitney & Whitney's that afternoon, the hope being to trap or beguile10 her into some information about Barker's whereabouts. It was the chief's plan—a poor one, I thought, and said so—but he was as enigmatic as usual, remarking that whether it succeeded or not, he wanted to see her. It didn't add to my good humor to hear that, as I knew the girl, they'd selected me for their messenger.
Not being able to strike straight at their subject they'd framed up a story, one that would give them scope for questions and be a sufficiently11 plausible12 excuse to get her there. It seemed to me absurd, but the old man was satisfied with it. Everybody now knew that Harland had been her silent partner. Their story was that they'd heard Barker was also in the enterprise, she'd had a double backing, his visits to her office gave color to the rumor13, and so forth14 and so on. I left the office while they were conning15 it over.
As I mounted the stairs to her apartment I felt a good deal of a cad. If it had been anyone else, or any other kind of a woman—but that fine, high-spirited creature! A group of men trying to make a fool of her—beastly! Why had I said I'd do it—and why the devil had she got mixed up in such an ugly business?
A servant opened the door and showed me up a hall into the parlor16. She was there sitting at a desk littered with papers, and rose with a faint surprised smile when she saw me. As we sat down and I made my apologies for intruding17, I had a chance to observe her and was struck by the change in her. It was less than a year since we'd last met and she looked singularly different. Handsome of course—she'd always be that—but another kind of woman. At first I thought it was because she was paler and thinner—she'd been a radiant, blooming Amazon in the country—but after a few minutes I saw it was something—how can I express it?—more of the spirit than the body. The joyousness18 and gayety had gone out of her, and the spontaneity—I noticed that especially. I could feel constraint19 in her composure as if she was on her dignity.
As I explained my mission—I couldn't say much, and felt beastly uncomfortable while I was doing it—she listened with an expressionless, polite attention. When I had finished she made no comment, merely saying she would be only too happy to do anything for Mr. Whitney, then passed on to her own affairs, mentioning the failure of the Azalea Woods Estates and that she thought she and her mother would return to the country. I was on the verge20 of offering to finance her in a new deal and then remembered I was there as an emissary, not as a friend. It rattled21 me and the rattling22 wasn't helped when I met her eyes, brown and soft, but with something scrutinizing23 and watchful24 under their velvety25 darkness.
I stayed longer than I meant to—longer than I needed to. Some way or other our talk shifted round to Azalea and Longwood, to Firehill and the people we knew all through there. I forgot about the matter I'd come on, and she brightened up too and there was a gleam of the girl I'd met a year ago. But when I rose to leave the other woman was back, the reserved, poised26 woman who seemed shut in a shell of conventional politeness. She said she'd come that afternoon about five—she had work to do that would keep her till then. In the doorway27 she suddenly smiled and held out her hand. The feel of it, soft and warm, was in mine when I got out into the street.
I went back to the office feeling meaner than a yellow dog. Thank Heaven I'd not have to do that again. They'd get all they could out of her, and that would be the last time Whitney & Whitney would want to see her. Later on, in a week or two maybe, I could call on her again. The ice was broken, and anyway I didn't see but what it was my duty. Someone ought to help her to get on her feet again and as she'd no man in her own family the least I could do was to offer my services.
At five the chief, George and I were waiting for her. She was a little late and as she came in I noticed that she had more color than she'd had in the morning. She looked splendid, in a dark fur coat and some kind of a close-fitting hat with her black hair curling out below the edge. Her manner was cool and tranquil28, not a hint about her of surprise or uneasiness, only that heightened color which I set down to the hurry she'd been in getting there.
The chief was as gracious as if he'd been welcoming her as a guest in his house—full of apologies, waving her to an armchair, suggesting she take off her coat as the room was warm. No outsider would ever have guessed what was going on in that astute29 and subtle mind. A feeling of indignant pity rose in me—she seemed so unsuspecting. But—No; it's better for me to describe the scene as it occurred, to try and make you see it as I did.
When the necessary politenesses were disposed of, the old man, very delicately, with all his tact30 and finesse31, started on the frame-up. He did it admirably, finishing on a sort of confidential32 note. As the attorney for the Copper33 Pool group, it would facilitate matters if he knew of all Barker's activities; any information, the slightest, would be helpful.
She answered readily, without surprise, almost as if she might have heard the story before.
"You've been misinformed, Mr. Whitney. Mr. Barker had no interest in the Azalea Woods Estates. He had nothing to do with it."
The old man pursed out his lips and raised his brows:
"I see, one of those groundless rumors34 that gather about a sensational event. It probably started from the fact, mentioned in the papers, that Barker was in your office that afternoon."
"Probably. He came to see me about a house he was going to build in the tract35. Of course that's all ended in nothing now."
He looked at her from under his bushy brows, a kind, fatherly glance:
"I was very sorry to hear, Miss Whitehall, that you were one of the sufferers in this double disaster we are trying to settle."
"Tch!" he shook his head frowning and resentful. "These men can knife each other—pirates in a buccaneer warfare—but when it comes to dragging down women I'd like to see them all strung up."
Her eyes gave a flash. It was like a spark struck from a flint, there and then gone. As if it had surprised her, and she was determined37 to guard against its return, the calm of her face intensified38 into an almost mask-like quiet. She answered softly:
"I can't go so far as that, Mr. Whitney. I'm sure there's some explanation—as to Mr. Barker, I mean."
"I hope so," said the chief, "for your sake if for no other. I hope he'll come back and make the restitution39 he owes his associates and discharge that obligation about the house and lot."
He looked at her smiling, a rallying smile that said as plain as words, he knew such hopes to be groundless. She did not smile back, simply raised her eyebrows40 and gave a slight nod. George, who was facing her, leaned forward and said as if he had just met her at a pink tea and was being gallantly41 sympathetic:
"It was rather hard on you, Miss Whitehall, having those two men in your place that day. The press must have made your life a burden."
"It wasn't so bad. Some reporters called me up but when they found how little I knew they left me alone. I hadn't anything exciting to say. Both interviews were nothing but business."
"But let me ask you a question—not for publication this time, just as a thing I'm curious about. It was only a few hours after you saw him that Harland killed himself. Wasn't there anything unusual in his manner, anything to suggest that he was not himself?"
She looked down at the purse she was holding in her lap, and said slowly, clasping and unclasping the catch:
"I didn't notice anything—unless perhaps he was a little irritable42 and nervous. I certainly never would have thought he was in the state of a man contemplating43 suicide."
"And you would have known," said the chief. He turned to George in explanation. "As Harland's partner, Miss Whitehall would have known him well enough to notice any marked change in him."
I was watching her closely and as the glances of the two men met I saw uneasiness well up through the quietude of her face. Then for the first time I suspected that she was not as composed as she seemed. Her words confirmed the suspicion, they came quickly in hurried denial:
"No—I didn't know him well. I saw him very seldom. We were not in the least—what—what you'd call friends or even close acquaintances. It was all purely44 business."
The chief nodded, a slight, Mandarin-like teetering of his head, which gave the impression of a polite agreement in a matter that didn't interest him.
"Purely business," he murmured, then again turned to George. "What Miss Whitehall says would bear out the general idea that it was that last interview which drove Harland to desperation."
As they spoke45 she looked from one to the other, a glance that passed over both faces as quick as a lightning flash. Before they could turn, it was gone and her eyes had a dense46, dead look as if she had dropped some inner veil over them. Then I knew that the brain behind that smooth white forehead was something more than alert, it was on its guard, wary47 and watchful.
The knowledge made me suddenly speak. I wanted to see, I had to see, if that careful control would hold under a direct question about her lover.
"How about Barker? How did he act when you saw him that afternoon?"
She shifted slightly to see me better.
"Barker was a man of iron," said the chief. "His mental disturbances49 didn't show on the outside. Besides," he gave a wave of his hand toward her—"this young lady knew him only slightly." He turned quickly to her, "I'm right, am I not?"
"Perfectly," she fixed50 her eyes on him and kept them there, black and unfathomable. "My acquaintance with him was simply that of an agent with a customer."
For a moment I couldn't look at her; I got up and going to the window fumbled51 with the blind. The man she'd tried to run away with—and telling her lie with that smooth steadiness! It was only love could give such nerve. Behind me I heard the old man's voice:
"A horrible affair. It was fortunate for you you escaped the sight of it."
"Ah—" it was a sound of shuddering52 protest—"that would have been too much. I knew nothing of it till I saw the papers the next morning. It made me ill—I was at home for several days."
"Well," said he, "I'm in hopes we're going to straighten things out before long."
I turned from the window and moved back, wondering what he was going to say. She was looking again at her purse, snapping and unsnapping the clasp.
"How can you do that?" she asked.
"Haven't you read in the papers that Barker's been seen in Philadelphia?"
"Ah yes," she murmured, her glance still on the purse. "But nobody's found him yet."
"Give us time—give us time. These vanishing gentlemen like a change of air. They don't stay long under our hospitable53 flag. Their goal is Canada."
For a moment she had no reply. You could see it, you could see the effort with which she held her statue-calm pose, but a deep breath lifted her breast and the edge of her teeth showed on her underlip.
"Canada," said the old man with a comfortable roll in his big chair, "is our modern American equivalent of the medieval sanctuary54."
She'd got her nerve back—I never saw such grit55. She gave him a smile, not jolly like his, but defiant56.
"Of course," she said, "a sort of Cave of Adullum." Then she rose and looking at him from under her eyelids57 added, "But if a man's clever enough to get to the Cave of Adullum I should think he'd be too clever to stay there."
She turned and took her coat from the chair back. George made a jump to help her and the old man heaved himself up, breaking out with renewed apologies for the trouble he'd given her. They were like people separating after a social function, he bland58 and courteous59, she gracious and deprecating.
"If I could be of any service to you I'd be only too glad. But"—she gave that little shrug of her shoulders—"I'm so unimportant. A poor working woman whose orbit happened by chance to cross those of two great luminaries60."
"There's nothing for anybody to do but us," said George, standing61 behind her and holding out her coat. "And we'll do it. You'll see some morning in the paper that we've got our hands on Barker—the high-class sneak62."
He and his father worked so well together that he told me afterward63 he knew the old man would be watching her. He was and so was I, and at those words I saw the rich color spread to her forehead and again that flash, like a leap of flame, shine in her eyes. She knew it too and dropped her lids over it, but the color she couldn't control and it glowed in crimson64 on her cheeks as she answered with a sort of soft tolerance65:
"Oh, Mr. Whitney, hunting criminals has made you unjust." Then as the coat slipped on she flashed a look at him over her shoulder, "But I don't think it's real! The profession requires a pose."
George was quite bowled over. He had no answer and she knew it, turning from him with a smile and moving toward the door. Halfway66 there the old man stopped her.
"Oh, by the way—one thing more that nearly slipped my memory. You no doubt saw in the papers that Harland is supposed to have spent the half-hour before he jumped, in the corridor of your floor. Did you see him there—as you left, I mean?"
"I?" she raised her eyebrows in artless, surprised query67. "No, I'd gone before he came down. I left about six, or maybe a little before."
"Um!" he nodded. "You were probably in the elevator."
"Yes, probably—" her purse dropped from her hand to the floor. We all started forward to pick it up but she was too quick for us and had it before any of us could reach it. As she righted herself from the sudden stoop her face was deeply flushed. "Yes, of course, I must have been in the elevator," she finished with a slight gasp68 as if the quick movement had impeded69 her breathing.
"I see, of course," agreed the chief moving beside her to the door. "It merely interested me as a student of morbid70 psychology71. I'd like to have known how a man of Harland's type looked, moved, comported72 himself, while such a struggle went on in his mind."
At the door there were general good-byes, a very cordial parting all round. I slipped out behind her to escort her through the hall to the elevator. As we brushed along side by side she said nothing and glimpsing down at her face, I saw it set in a still pondering—sphinx-like it seemed to me.
Waiting for the car I said a few civil commonplaces to which she made short conventional answers. Biting her lip, her eyes on the ground, she looked preoccupied73, impatient, I thought, for the car to come. I wanted to ask her if I could see her again, but I didn't dare, she seemed so indifferent, so shut away in her own brooding. But when she entered the elevator and the gate shut, I saw her through the grill-work, looking at me from behind that iron barrier, and the sight stirred me like a hand clasped on my heart.
It wasn't only the expression of her face, which was sad, almost tragic74, but it was a strange and eerie75 suggestion that it was like a face looking through the bars of a prison. The thought haunted me as I walked back.
In the office George and the chief were talking over the interview. They'd noted76 every tone of her voice, every change of her color. That she'd lied had not surprised them. She had had to lie.
The chief rose lumberingly and moved to his cigar box on the mantelpiece.
"I understand now why Barker—who never was known to care for a woman—finally fell. She's a splendid creature—brains and beauty."
"Both to burn," George agreed. "You couldn't get much out of her."
"All I wanted just now," said his father, striking a match, "the rest'll come in time."
I was just going to ask him what more he expected, when a clerk opened the door and said:
"Mrs. Babbitts is outside to see Mr. Whitney."
The chief squared round like a flash, the lit match dropping to the hearth78. His face, usually heavy and stolid79, lit into an almost avid80 eagerness.
"Show her in," he ordered and the clerk disappeared.
"What are you expecting to get from Molly?" George asked. "Isn't she finished?"
"Not quite." The old man's eyes were on the door, his cigar unlit in his hand. I hadn't often seen him so openly on the qui vive. "Molly's had further orders."
"What?"
"You'll see," was the answer.
Molly entered with the cold of the night still around her. Her long coat was buttoned wrong, her hat on one side. Haste was written all over her, haste and that bright-eyed, jubilant exhilaration that took possession of her when things were moving her way. She was like a little game dog on the scent81, and I'd often heard the old man say she'd make the best woman detective he'd ever known. He was awfully82 fond of her, and took a sort of paternal83 pride in her nerve and cleverness, just as he did in George's.
"Well, Molly," he said—"got that stuff for me?"
She nodded, her little body seeming to radiate a quivering energy:
"Today at the lunch hour. I came the minute I got off."
"Go ahead. I said not to tell anybody till you told me first. Well, you're going to tell me first now."
Standing by the table, her eyes bright on the old man, she said slowly and clearly:
"Troop says he never took Miss Whitehall down from her offices on the night of January the fifteenth."
George gave a smothered84 ejaculation and started forward. I was transfixed—not believing my ears. Only the chief looked unmoved, leaning against the mantelpiece, holding Molly's glance with his.
"He says that he was there later than usual, until eight, because of the accident and the other car being broken. Before that he took down the two Azalea Woods Estates clerks, Iola Barry and Tony Ford86, but not Miss Whitehall. After the accident he ran out into the street, and when he came back the people were on every landing ringing the bells and wild because the elevator didn't come. He went up and took them off, but Miss Whitehall wasn't among them. He said that he'd heard some of them got tired of waiting and went by the stairs."
"He thought Miss Whitehall went that way?"
"Yes, it was the only way she could have gone. He supposed she'd got impatient or hysterical87 and just rushed pell-mell down."
"Did Troop or anyone else see her in the lower hall or leaving the building?"
"No, I questioned him careful about that. He thought she'd seen the excitement on Broadway and run down and maybe met someone who'd told her what had happened. And not wanting to get in it she'd gone out the side door. Anyway he said she wasn't in the ground floor hall, or out in the street with the others or he'd have seen her."
There was a pause. In that pause—like figures in a picture—I saw George, amazed, petrified88, staring at his father, Molly looking from one to the other, and the chief with his brows low down and his head drooped89, gazing at the fire. In a moment they would burst into speech—the speech that was withheld90 while that astounding91 revelation found acceptance in their minds.
To hear what they said—to listen to what I couldn't believe and yet couldn't contradict—was more than I could stand just then. Without a word, unnoticed by any of them, I slipped out, fled down the hall, into the elevator and out to the street.
It was cold, a sharp, frosty night, with a few stars shining in the deep-blue sky. Dark masses of men flowed out of the doors of skyscrapers92 and drained away down the subway entrances. I jostled through them, elbowing them right and left, instinctively93 turning my face uptown, deaf to the curses that followed me, blind to the lights that stretched in a spangled vista94 in front.
What did it mean? What could it mean? I'd understood the lie about Barker but now those other lies! She had said she went down about six, in the elevator. I'd heard her, there was no getting away from it. Was that the reason the old man had wanted to see her? Suddenly I saw again his look of hungry expectation when Molly was announced, and with a stifled95 sound, I stopped short. As lightning plays upon a dark landscape, for a moment showing it plain, I had a clear glimpse of the line of thought he'd been pursuing. The horror of it held me rooted there, rigid96 as a dead man, in the midst of the hurrying crowd.
Incredible—hideous—unbelievable! Association with criminals had warped97 and diseased his judgment98. And then like a sinister99 shadow, creeping on me dark and ominous100, rose the memory of her guarded face, the flame of color she couldn't hide, the dropped purse. I started out again, fighting the shadow, but all I had to fight with was my belief in her. She couldn't—it was impossible, I'd die swearing it. And battering101 against that belief, came questions, insistent102, maddening. Why couldn't she speak out? Why didn't she admit the truth—say that Barker was her lover and have done with it? Why had she lied—about him, about the time she left, about everything she could have frankly103 admitted, if—if—— When I got there I could go no farther. Cursing under my breath I forged along, the air ice-cold on the sweat that was damp on my forehead.
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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entanglements
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| n.瓜葛( entanglement的名词复数 )；牵连；纠缠；缠住 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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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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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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conning
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| v.诈骗，哄骗( con的现在分词 )；指挥操舵( conn的现在分词 ) | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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intruding
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joyousness
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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scrutinizing
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watchful
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velvety
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poised
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doorway
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tranquil
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astute
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tact
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finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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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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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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tract
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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restitution
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| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
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40
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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41
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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42
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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46
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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51
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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52
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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53
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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luminaries
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| n.杰出人物，名人（luminary的复数形式） | |
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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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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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comported
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| v.表现( comport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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avid
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| adj.热心的；贪婪的；渴望的；劲头十足的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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83
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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84
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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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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86
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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89
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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91
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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92
skyscrapers
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| n.摩天大楼 | |
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93
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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96
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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97
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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98
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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99
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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100
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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101
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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102
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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103
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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