THE love-affair of Enid Challenger and Edward Malone is not of the slightest interest to the reader, for the simple reason that it is not of the slightest interest to the writer. The unseen, unnoticed lure1 of the unborn babe is common to all youthful humanity. We deal in this chronicle with matters which are less common and of higher interest. It is only mentioned in order to explain those terms of frank and intimate comradeship which the narrative2 discloses. If the human race has obviously improved in anything—in Anglo-Celtic countries, at least—it is that the prim3 affectations and sly deceits of the past are lessened4, and that young men and women can meet in an equality of clean and honest comradeship.
A taxi took the adventurers down Edgware Road and into the side-street called “Helbeck Terrace.” Halfway5 down, the dull line of brick houses was broken by one glowing gap, where an open arch threw a flood of light into the street. The cab pulled up and the man opened the door.
“This is the Spiritualist Church, sir,” said he. Then, as he saluted6 to acknowledge his tip, he added in the wheezy voice of the man of all weathers: “Tommy-rot, I call it, sir.” Having eased his conscience thus he climbed into his seat and a moment later his red rear-lamp was a waning7 circle in the gloom. Malone laughed.{22}
“Vox populi, Enid. That is as far as the public has got at the present.”
“Well, it is as far as we have got, for that matter.”
“Yes, but we are prepared to give them a show. I don’t suppose Cabby is. By Jove, it will be hard luck if we can’t get in!”
There was a crowd at the door and a man was facing them from the top of the step, waving his arms to keep them back.
“It’s no good, friends. I am very sorry, but we can’t help it. We’ve been threatened twice with prosecution8 for over-crowding.” He turned facetious9. “Never heard of an Orthodox Church getting into trouble for that. No, sir, no.”
“I’ve come all the way from ‘Ammersmith,” wailed10 a voice. The light beat upon the eager, anxious face of the speaker, a little woman in black with a baby in her arms.
“You’ve come for clairvoyance11, Mam,” said the usher12, with intelligence. “See here, give me the name and address and I will write you, and Mrs. Debbs will give you a sitting gratis13. That’s better than taking your chance in the crowd when, with all the will in the world, you can’t all get a turn. You’ll have her to yourself. No, sir, there’s no use shovin’.... What’s that?... Press?”
He had caught Malone by the elbow.
“Did you say Press? The Press boycott14 us, sir. Look at the weekly list of services in a Saturday’s Times if you doubt it. You wouldn’t know there was such a thing as Spiritualism.... What paper, sir?... ‘The Daily Gazette.’ Well, well, we are getting on. And the lady, too?... Special article—my word! Stick to me, sir, and I’ll see what I can do. Shut the doors, Joe. No use, friends.{23} When the building fund gets on a bit we’ll have more room for you. Now, miss, this way, if you please.”
This way proved to be down the street and round a side-alley which brought them to a small door with a red lamp shining above it.
“Good gracious!” cried Enid.
“You’ll have a fine view, miss, and maybe get a readin’ for yourself if you’re lucky. It often happens that those nearest the medium get the best chance. Now, sir, in here!”
Here was a frowsy little room with some hats and top-coats draping the dirty, white-washed walls. A thin, austere16 woman, with eyes which gleamed from behind her glasses, was warming her gaunt hands over a small fire. With his back to the fire in the traditional British attitude was a large, fat man with a bloodless face, a ginger17 moustache and curious, light-blue eyes—the eyes of a deep-sea mariner18. A little bald-headed man with huge horn-rimmed spectacles, and a very handsome and athletic19 youth in a blue lounge-suit, completed the group.
“The others have gone on the platform, Mr. Peeble. There’s only five seats left for ourselves.” It was the fat man talking.
“I know, I know,” said the man who had been addressed as Peeble, a nervous, stringy, dried-up person as he now appeared in the light. “But this is the Press, Mr. Bolsover. Daily Gazette—special article.... Malone the name, and Challenger. This is Mr. Bolsover, our President. This is Mrs. Debbs of Liverpool, the famous clairvoyante. Here is Mr. James, and this tall young gentleman is Mr. Hardy20 Williams, our energetic secretary. Mr. {24}Williams is a nailer for the buildin’ fund. Keep your eye on your pockets if Mr. Williams is around.”
They all laughed.
“Collection comes later,” said Mr. Williams, smiling.
“A good, rousing article is our best collection,” said the stout21 president. “Ever been to a meeting before, sir?”
“No,” said Malone.
“Don’t know much about it, I expect.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, well, we must expect a slating22. They get it from the humorous angle at first. We’ll have you writing a very comic account. I never could see anything very funny in the spirit of one’s dead wife, but it’s a matter of taste and of knowledge also. If they don’t know, how can they take it seriously? I don’t blame them. We were mostly like that ourselves once. I was one of Bradlaugh’s men, and sat under Joseph MacCabe until my old Dad came and pulled me out.”
“Good for him!” said the Liverpool medium.
“It was the first time I found I had powers of my own. I saw him like I see you now.”
“Was he one of us in the body?”
“Knew no more than I did. But they come on amazin’ at the other side if the right folk get hold of them.”
“Time’s up!” said Mr. Peeble, snapping his watch. “You are on the right of the chair, Mrs. Debbs. Will you go first? Then you, Mr. Chairman. Then you two and myself. Get on the left, Mr. Hardy Williams, and lead the singin’. They want warmin’ up and you can do it. Now then, if you please!{25}”
The platform was already crowded, but the newcomers threaded their way to the front amid a decorous murmur23 of welcome. Mr. Peeble shoved and exhorted24 and two end seats emerged upon which Enid and Malone perched themselves. The arrangement suited them well, for they could use their notebooks freely behind the shelter of the folk in front.
“What is your reaction?” whispered Enid.
“Not impressed as yet.”
“No, nor I,” said Enid, “but it’s very interesting all the same.”
People who are in earnest are always interesting, whether you agree with them or not, and it was impossible to doubt that the people were extremely earnest. The hall was crammed25, and as one looked down one saw line after line of upturned faces, curiously26 alike in type, women predominating, but men running them close. That type was not distinguished27 nor intellectual, but it was undeniably healthy, honest and sane28. Small trades-folk, male and female shop-walkers, better class artisans, lower middle-class women worn with household cares, occasional young folk in search of a sensation—these were the impressions which the audience conveyed to the trained observation of Malone.
The fat president rose and raised his hand.
“My friends,” said he, “we have had once more to exclude a great number of people who’d desired to be with us to-night. It’s all a question of the building-fund, and Mr. Williams on my left will be glad to hear from any of you. I was in a hotel last week and they had a notice hung up in the reception bureau. ‘No cheques accepted.’ That’s not the way Brother Williams talks. You just try him.{26}”
The audience laughed. The atmosphere was clearly that of the lecture-hall rather than of the Church.
“There’s just one more thing I want to say before I sit down. I’m not here to talk. I’m here to hold this chair down and I mean to do it. It’s a hard thing I ask. I want Spiritualists to keep away on Sunday nights. They take up the room that inquirers should have. You can have the morning service. But it’s better for the cause that there should be room for the stranger. You’ve had it. Thank God for it. Give the other man a chance.” The president plumped back into his chair.
Mr. Peeble sprang to his feet. He was clearly the general utility man who emerges in every society and probably becomes its autocrat29. With his thin, eager face and darting30 hands he was more than a live wire—he was a whole bundle of live wires. Electricity seemed to crackle from his finger-tips.
A harmonium droned and the audience rose. It was a fine hymn and lustily sung:
“The world hath felt a quickening breath
From Heaven’s eternal shore,
And souls triumphant33 over death
Return to earth once more.”
There was a ring of exultation34 in the voices as the refrain rolled out:
For this with joy we sing,
‘Oh Grave, where is thy victory,
Oh Death, where is thy sting?’”
Yes, they were in earnest, these people. And they did not appear to be mentally weaker than their fellows. And yet both Enid and Malone felt a sensation of great pity as they looked at them. How sad{27} to be deceived upon so intimate a matter as this, to be duped by impostors who used their most sacred feelings and their beloved dead as counters with which to cheat them. What did they know of the laws of evidence, of the cold, immutable36 decrees of scientific law? Poor earnest, honest, deluded37 people!
“Now!” screamed Mr. Peeble. “We shall ask Mr. Munro from Australia to give us the invocation.”
A wild-looking old man with a shaggy beard and slumbering38 fire in his eyes rose up and stood for a few seconds with his gaze cast down. Then he began a prayer, very simple, very unpremeditated. Malone jotted39 down the first sentence: “Oh, Father, we are very ignorant folk and do not well know how to approach you, but we will pray to you the best we know how.” It was all cast in that humble40 key. Enid and Malone exchanged a swift glance of appreciation41.
There was another hymn, less successful than the first, and the chairman then announced that Mr. James Jones of North Wales would now deliver a trance address which would embody42 the views of his well-known control, Alasha the Atlantean.
Mr. James Jones, a brisk and decided43 little man in a faded check suit, came to the front and, after standing a minute or so as if in deep thought, gave a violent shudder44 and began to talk. It must be admitted that save for a certain fixed45 stare and vacuous46 glazing47 of the eye there was nothing to show that anything save Mr. James Jones of North Wales was the orator48. It has also to be stated that if Mr. Jones shuddered49 at the beginning it was the turn of his audience to shudder afterwards. Granting his own claim, he had proved clearly that an Atlantean spirit might be a portentous50 bore. He droned on with platitudes51 and{28} ineptitudes while Malone whispered to Enid that if Alasha was a fair specimen52 of the population it was just as well that his native land was safely engulfed53 in the Atlantic Ocean. When, with another rather melodramatic shudder, he emerged from his trance, the chairman sprang to his feet with an alacrity54 which showed that he was taking no risks lest the Atlantean should return.
“We have present with us to-night,” he cried, “Mrs. Debbs, the well-known clairvoyante of Liverpool. Mrs. Debbs is, as many of you know, richly endowed with several of those gifts of the spirit of which Saint Paul speaks, and the discerning of spirits is among them. These things depend upon laws which are beyond our control, but a sympathetic atmosphere is essential, and Mrs. Debbs will ask for your good wishes and your prayers while she endeavours to get into touch with some of those shining ones on the other side who may honour us with their presence to-night.”
The president sat down and Mrs. Debbs rose amid discreet55 applause. Very tall, very pale, very thin, with an aquiline56 face and eyes shining brightly from behind her gold-rimmed glasses, she stood facing her expectant audience. Her head was bent57. She seemed to be listening.
“Vibrations58!” she cried at last. “I want helpful vibrations. Give me a verse on the harmonium, please.”
The instrument droned out “Jesus, Lover of my soul.” The audience sat in silence, expectant and a little awed60. The hall was not too well lit and dark shadows lurked61 in the corners. The medium still bent her head as if her ears were straining. Then she raised her hand and the music stopped.
“Presently! Presently! All in good time,” said{29} the woman, addressing some invisible companion. Then to the audience, “I don’t feel that the conditions are very good to-night. I will do my best and so will they. But I must talk to you first.”
And she talked. What she said seemed to the two strangers to be absolute gabble. There was no consecutive62 sense in it, though now and again a phrase or sentence caught the attention. Malone put his stylo in his pocket. There was no use reporting a lunatic. A Spiritualist next him saw his bewildered disgust and leaned towards him.
“She’s tuning63 in. She’s getting her wave length,” he whispered. “It’s all a matter of vibration59. Ah, there you are!”
She had stopped in the very middle of a sentence. Her long arm and quivering forefinger64 shot out. She was pointing at an elderly woman in the second row.
“You! Yes, you, with the red feather. No, not you. The stout lady in front. Yes, you! There is a spirit building up behind you. It is a man. He is a tall man—six foot maybe. High forehead, eyes grey or blue, a long chin, brown moustache, lines on his face. Do you recognise him, friend?”
The stout woman looked alarmed, but shook her head.
“Well, see if I can help you. He is holding up a book—brown book with a clasp. It’s a ledger65 same as they have in offices. I get the words ‘Caledonian Insurance.’ Is that any help?”
The stout woman pursed her lips and shook her head vigorously.
“Well, I can give you a little more. He died after a long illness. I get chest trouble—asthma.”
The stout woman was still obdurate66, but a small,{30} angry, red-faced person, two places away from her, sprang to her feet.
“It’s my ’usband, ma’am. Tell ’im I don’t want to ’ave any more dealin’s with him.” She sat down with decision.
“Yes, that’s right. He moves to you now. He was nearer the other. He wants to say he’s sorry. It doesn’t do, you know, to have hard feelings to the dead. Forgive and forget. It’s all over. I get a message for you. It is: ‘Do it and my blessings67 go with you!’ Does that mean anything to you?”
The angry woman looked pleased and nodded.
“Very good.” The clairvoyante suddenly darted68 out her finger towards the crowd at the door. “It’s for the soldier.”
A soldier in khaki, looking very much amazed, was in the front of the knot of people.
“Wot’s for me?” he asked.
“It’s a soldier. He has a corporal’s stripes. He is a big man with grizzled hair. He has a yellow tab on his shoulders. I get the initials J. H. Do you know him?”
“Yes—but he’s dead,” said the soldier.
He had not understood that it was a Spiritualistic Church, and the whole proceedings69 had been a mystery to him. They were rapidly explained by his neighbours. “My Gawd!” cried the soldier, and vanished amid a general titter. In the pause Malone could hear the constant mutter of the medium as she spoke70 to someone unseen.
“Yes, yes, wait your turn! Speak up, woman! Well, take your place near him. How should I know? Well, I will if I can.” She was like a janitor71 at the theatre marshalling a queue.
Her next attempt was a total failure. A solid man{31} with bushy side-whiskers absolutely refused to have anything to do with an elderly gentleman who claimed kinship. The medium worked with admirable patience, coming back again and again with some fresh detail, but no progress could be made.
“Are you a Spiritualist, friend?”
“Yes, for ten years.”
“Well, you know there are difficulties.”
“Yes, I know that.”
“Think it over. It may come to you later. We must just leave it at that. I am only sorry for your friend.”
There was a pause during which Enid and Malone exchanged whispered confidences.
“What do you make of it, Enid?”
“I don’t know. It confuses me.”
“I believe it is half guess-work and the other half a case of confederates. These people are all of the same church and naturally they know each other’s affairs. If they don’t know they can enquire72.”
“Someone said it was Mrs. Debbs’ first visit.”
“Yes, but they could easily coach her up. It is all clever quackery73 and bluff74. It must be, for just think what is implied if it is not.”
“Telepathy, perhaps.”
“Yes, some element of that also. Listen! She is off again.”
Her next attempt was more fortunate. A lugubrious75 man at the back of the hall readily recognised the description and claims of his deceased wife.
“I get the name Walter.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“She called you Walt?”
“No.”
“Well, she calls Wat now. ‘Tell Wat to give{32} my love to the children.’ That’s how I get it. She is worrying about the children.”
“She always did.”
“Well, they don’t change. Furniture. Something about furniture. She says you gave it away. Is that right?”
“Well, I might as well.”
The audience tittered. It was strange how the most solemn and the comic were eternally blended—strange and yet very natural and human.
“She has a message: ‘The man will pay up and all will be well. Be a good man, Wat, and we will be happier here than ever we were on earth.’”
The man put his hand over his eyes. As the seeress stood irresolute76 the tall young secretary half rose and whispered something in her ear. The woman shot a swift glance over her left shoulder in the direction of the visitors.
“I’ll come back to it,” said she.
She gave two more descriptions to the audience, both of them rather vague, and both recognised with some reservations. It was a curious fact that her details were such as she could not possibly see at the distance. Thus, dealing77 with a form which she claimed had built up at the far end of the hall, she could none the less give the colour of the eyes and small points of the face. Malone noted78 the point as one which he could use for destructive criticism. He was just jotting79 it down when the woman’s voice sounded louder and, looking up, he found that she had turned her head and her spectacles were flashing in his direction.
“It is not often I give a reading from the platform,” said she, her face rotating between him and the audience, “but we have friends here to-night, and{33} it may interest them to come in contact with the spirit people. There is a presence building up behind the gentleman with a moustache—the gentleman who sits next to the young lady. Yes, sir, behind you. He is a man of middle size, rather inclined to shortness. He is old, over sixty, with white hair, curved nose and a white, small beard of the variety that is called goatee. He is no relation, I gather, but a friend. Does that suggest anyone to you, sir?”
Malone shook his head with some contempt. “It would fit nearly any old man,” he whispered to Enid.
“We will try to get a little closer. He has deep lines on his face. I should say he was an irritable80 man in his lifetime. He was quick and nervous in his ways. Does that help you?”
Again Malone shook his head.
“Rot! Perfect rot,” he muttered.
“Well, he seems very anxious so we must do what we can for him. He holds up a book. It is a learned book. He opens it and I see diagrams in it. Perhaps he wrote it—or perhaps he taught from it. Yes, he nods. He taught from it. He was a teacher.”
Malone remained unresponsive.
“I don’t know that I can help him any more. Ah! there is one thing. He has a mole81 over his right eyebrow82.”
Malone started as if he had been stung.
“One mole?” he cried.
The spectacles flashed round again.
“Two moles—one large, one small.”
“Ah, you’ve got it. There’s a message: Greetings to old——’ It’s a long name and begins with a C. I can’t get it. Does it mean anything?{34}”
“Yes.”
In an instant she had turned and was describing something or someone else. But she had left a badly-shaken man upon the platform behind her.
It was at this point that the orderly service had a remarkable84 interruption which surprised the audience as much as it did the two visitors. This was the sudden appearance beside the chairman of a tall, pale-faced, bearded man dressed like a superior artisan, who held up his hand with a quietly impressive gesture as one who was accustomed to exert authority. He then half turned and said a word to Mr. Bolsover.
“This is Mr. Miromar of Dalston,” said the Chairman. “Mr. Miromar has a message to deliver. We are always glad to hear from Mr. Miromar.”
The reporters could only get a half-view of the newcomer’s face, but both of them were struck by his noble bearing and by the massive outline of his head which promised very unusual intellectual power. His voice when he spoke rang clearly and pleasantly through the hall.
“I have been ordered to give the message wherever I think that there are ears to hear it. There are some here who are ready for it, and that is why I have come. They wish that the human race should gradually understand the situation so that there shall be the less shock or panic. I am one of several who are chosen to carry the news.”
“A lunatic, I’m afraid!” whispered Malone, scribbling85 hard upon his knee. There was a general inclination86 to smile among the audience. And yet there was something in the man’s manner and voice which made them hang on every word.
“Things have now reached a climax87. The very idea of progress has been made material. It is prog{35}ress to go swiftly, to send swift messages, to build new machinery88. All this is a diversion of real ambition. There is only one real progress—spiritual progress. Mankind gives it a lip tribute but presses on upon its false road of material science.
“The Central Intelligence recognised that amid all the apathy89 there was also much honest doubt which had outgrown90 old creeds91 and had a right to fresh evidence. Therefore fresh evidence was sent—evidence which made the life after death as clear as the sun in the heavens. It was laughed at by scientists, condemned92 by the churches, became the butt93 of the newspapers and was discarded with contempt. That was the last and greatest blunder of humanity.”
The audience had their chins up now. General speculations94 were beyond their mental horizon. But this was very clear to their comprehension. There was a murmur of sympathy and applause.
“The thing was now hopeless. It had got beyond all control. Therefore something sterner was needed since Heaven’s gift had been disregarded. The blow fell. Ten million men were laid dead upon the ground. Twice as many were mutilated. That was God’s first warning to mankind. But it was vain. The same dull materialism95 prevailed as before. Years of grace were given, and save the stirrings of the spirit seen in such churches as these, no change was anywhere to be seen. The nations heaped up fresh loads of sin and sin must ever be atoned96 for. Russia became a cesspool. Germany was unrepentant of her terrible materialism which had been the prime cause of the war. Spain and Italy were sunk in alternate atheism97 and superstition98. France had no religious ideal. Britain was confused and distracted, full of wooden sects99 which had nothing of life in them.{36} America had abused her glorious opportunities and instead of being the loving younger brother to a stricken Europe she held up all economic reconstruction100 by her money claims; she dishonoured101 the signature of her own president, and she refused to join that League of Peace which was the one hope of the future. All have sinned, but some more than others, and their punishment will be in exact proportion.
“And that punishment comes soon. These are the exact words I have been asked to give you. I read them lest I should in any way garble102 them.”
He took a slip of paper from his pocket and read:
“‘What we want is, not that folk should be frightened, but that they should begin to change themselves—to develop themselves on more spiritual lines. We are not trying to make people nervous, but to prepare while there is yet time. The world cannot go on as it has done. It would destroy itself if it did. Above all we must sweep away the dark cloud of theology which has come between mankind and God.’”
He folded up the paper and replaced it in his pocket.
“That is what I have been asked to tell you. Spread the news where there seems to be a window in the soul. Say to them, ‘Repent! Reform! the Time is at hand.’”
He had paused and seemed about to turn. The spell was broken. The audience rustled103 and leaned back in its seats. Then a voice came from the back.
“Is this the end of the world, mister?”
“Is it the Second Coming?” asked another voice.
“Yes.”
With quick, light steps he threaded his way among{37} the chairs on the platform and stood near the door. When Malone next looked round he was gone.
“He is one of these Second-coming fanatics,” he whispered to Enid. “There are a lot of them—Christadelphians, Russellites, Bible Students and what-not. But he was impressive.”
“Very,” said Enid.
“We have, I am sure, been very interested in what our friend has told us,” said the chairman. “Mr. Miromar is in hearty105 sympathy with our movement even though he cannot be said actually to belong to it. I am sure he is always welcome upon our platforms. As to his prophecy, it seems to me the world has had enough trouble without our anticipating any more. If it is as our friend says, we can’t do much to mend the matter. We can only go about our daily jobs, do them as well as we can, and await the event in full confidence of help from above. If it’s the Day of Judgment106 to-morrow,” he added, smiling, “I mean to look after my provision store at Hammersmith to-day. We shall now continue with the service.”
There was a vigorous appeal for money and a great deal about the building-fund from the young secretary. “It’s a shame to think that there are more left in the street than in the building on a Sunday night. We all give our services. No one takes a penny. Mrs. Debbs is here for her bare expenses. But we want another thousand pounds before we can start. There is one brother here who mortgaged his house to help us. That’s the spirit that wins. Now let us see what you can do for us to-night.”
A dozen soup-plates circulated, and a hymn was sung to the accompaniment of much chinking of coin. Enid and Malone conversed107 in undertones.{38}
“Professor Summerlee died, you know, at Naples last year.”
“Yes, I remember him well.”
“And ‘old C.’ was, of course, your father.”
“It was really remarkable.”
“Poor old Summerlee. He thought survival was an absurdity108. And here he is—or here he seems to be.”
The soup-plates returned—it was mostly brown soup, unhappily, and they were deposited on the table where the eager eye of the secretary appraised109 their value. Then the little shaggy man from Australia gave a benediction110 in the same simple fashion as the opening prayer. It needed no Apostolic succession or laying-on of hands to make one feel that his words were from a human heart and might well go straight to a Divine one. Then the audience rose and sang their final farewell hymn—a hymn with a haunting tune111 and a sad, sweet refrain of “God keep you safely till we meet once more.” Enid was surprised to feel the tears running down her cheeks. These earnest, simple folk with their direct methods had wrought112 upon her more than all the gorgeous service and rolling music of the cathedral.
Mr. Bolsover, the stout president, was in the waiting-room and so was Mrs. Debbs.
“Well, I expect you are going to let us have it,” he laughed. “We are used to it, Mr. Malone. We don’t mind. But you will see the turn some day. These articles may rise up in judgment.”
“I will treat it fairly, I assure you.”
“Well, we ask no more.”
“I am afraid you are tired,” said Enid.{39}
“No, young lady, I am never tired in doing the work of the spirit people. They see to that.”
“May I ask,” Malone ventured, “whether you ever knew Professor Summerlee?”
The medium shook her head.
“No, sir, no. They always think I know them. I know none of them. They come and I describe them.”
“How do you get the message?”
“Clairaudient. I hear it. I hear them all the time. The poor things all want to come through and they pluck at me and pull me and pester114 me on the platform. ‘Me next—me—me!’ That’s what I hear. I do my best, but I can’t handle them all.”
“Can you tell me anything of that prophetic person?” asked Malone of the chairman. Mr. Bolsover shrugged115 his shoulders with a deprecating smile.
“He is an Independent. We see him now and again as a sort of comet passing across us. By the way, it comes back to me that he prophesied116 the war. I’m a practical man myself. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We get plenty in ready cash without any bills for the future. Well, good night! Treat us as well as you can.”
“Good night,” said Enid.
“Good night,” said Mrs. Debbs. “By the way, young lady, you are a medium yourself. Good night!”
And so they found themselves in the street once more inhaling117 long draughts118 of the night air. It was sweet after that crowded hall. A minute later they were in the rush of the Edgware Road and Malone had hailed a cab to carry them back to Victoria Gardens.
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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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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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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10
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
clairvoyance
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| n.超人的洞察力 | |
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12
usher
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| n.带位员，招待员；vt.引导，护送；vi.做招待，担任引座员 | |
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13
gratis
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| adj.免费的 | |
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14
boycott
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| n./v.(联合)抵制，拒绝参与 | |
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15
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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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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17
ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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18
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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19
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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20
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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22
slating
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| 批评 | |
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23
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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24
exhorted
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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26
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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27
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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28
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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29
autocrat
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| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
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30
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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31
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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32
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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34
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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35
jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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36
immutable
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| adj.不可改变的，永恒的 | |
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37
deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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39
jotted
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| v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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40
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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41
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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42
embody
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| vt.具体表达，使具体化；包含，收录 | |
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43
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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44
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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45
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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46
vacuous
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| adj.空的，漫散的，无聊的，愚蠢的 | |
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47
glazing
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| n.玻璃装配业；玻璃窗；上釉；上光v.装玻璃( glaze的现在分词 )；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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48
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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49
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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50
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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51
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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52
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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53
engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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55
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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56
aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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57
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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58
vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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59
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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60
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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62
consecutive
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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63
tuning
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| n.调谐，调整，调音v.调音( tune的现在分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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64
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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65
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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66
obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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67
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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68
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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69
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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70
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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71
janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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72
enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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73
quackery
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| n.庸医的医术，骗子的行为 | |
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74
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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75
lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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76
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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77
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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78
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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79
jotting
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| n.简短的笔记，略记v.匆忙记下( jot的现在分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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80
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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81
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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82
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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83
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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84
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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85
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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86
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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87
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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88
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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89
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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90
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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91
creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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92
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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93
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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94
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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95
materialism
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| n.［哲］唯物主义，唯物论；物质至上 | |
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96
atoned
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的过去式和过去分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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97
atheism
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| n.无神论，不信神 | |
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98
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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99
sects
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| n.宗派，教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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100
reconstruction
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| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
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101
dishonoured
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| a.不光彩的，不名誉的 | |
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102
garble
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| v.曲解，窜改 | |
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103
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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105
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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106
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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107
conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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108
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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109
appraised
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| v.估价( appraise的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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110
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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111
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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112
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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113
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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114
pester
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| v.纠缠，强求 | |
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115
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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116
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
inhaling
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| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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118
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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