(Sunday, September 16; 10 a. m.)
A fine drizzle1 was falling the next morning when we rose; and a chill—the first forerunner2 of winter—was in the air. We had breakfast in the library at half past eight, and at nine o’clock Vance’s car—which had been ordered the night before—called for us. We rode down Fifth Avenue, now almost deserted3 in its thick blanket of yellow fog, and called for Markham at his apartment in West 12th Street. He was waiting for us in front of the house, and stepped quickly into the car with scarcely a word of greeting. From his anxious, preoccupied4 look I knew that he was depending a good deal on what Skeel had to tell him.
We had turned into West Broadway beneath the Elevated tracks before any of us spoke5. Then Markham voiced a doubt which was plainly an articulation6 of his troubled ruminations.
“I’m wondering if, after all, this fellow Skeel can have any important information to give us. His phone call was very strange. Yet he spoke confidently enough regarding his knowledge. No dramatics, no request for immunity—just a plain, assured statement that he knew who murdered the Odell girl, and had decided8 to come clean.”
“It’s certain he himself didn’t strangle the lady,” pronounced Vance. “My theory, as you know, is that he was hiding in the clothes-press when the shady business was being enacted9; and all along I’ve clung lovingly to the idea that he was au secret to the entire proceedings10. The keyhole of that closet door is on a direct line with the end of the davenport where the lady was strangled; and if a rival was operating at the time of his concealment11, it’s not unreasonable12 to assume that he peered forth13—eh, what? I questioned him on this point, you remember; and he didn’t like it a bit.”
“But, in that case——”
“Oh, I know. There are all kinds of erudite objections to my wild dream.—Why didn’t he give the alarm? Why didn’t he tell us about it before? Why this? and why that? . . . I make no claim to omniscience14, y’ know; I don’t even pretend to have a logical explanation for the various traits d’union of my vagary15. My theory is only sketched16 in, as it were. But I’m convinced, nevertheless, that the modish17 Tony knows who killed his bona roba and looted her apartment.”
“But of the three persons who possibly could have got into the Odell apartment that night—namely, Mannix, Cleaver18, and Lindquist—Skeel evidently knows only one—Mannix.”
“Yes—to be sure. And Mannix, it would seem, is the only one of the trio who knows Skeel. . . . An interestin’ point.”
Heath met us at the Franklin Street entrance to the Criminal Courts Building. He, too, was anxious and subdued19, and he shook hands with us in a detached manner devoid20 of his usual heartiness21.
“I’ve got Snitkin running the elevator,” he said, after the briefest of salutations. “Burke’s in the hall up-stairs, and Emery is with him, waiting to be let into Swacker’s office.”
We entered the deserted and almost silent building and rode up to the fourth floor. Markham unlocked his office door and we passed in.
“Guilfoyle, the man who’s tailing Skeel,” Heath explained, when we were seated, “is to report by phone to the Homicide Bureau as soon as the Dude leaves his rooms.”
It was now twenty minutes to ten. Five minutes later Swacker arrived. Taking his stenographic22 note-book, he stationed himself just inside of the swinging door of Markham’s private sanctum, where he could hear all that was said without being seen. Markham lit a cigar, and Heath followed suit. Vance was already smoking placidly23. He was the calmest person in the room, and lay back languorously24 in one of the great leather chairs as though immune to all cares and vicissitudes25. But I could tell by the over-deliberate way he flicked26 his ashes into the receiver that he, too, was uneasy.
“No, sir,” he said, as if completing some unspoken thought, “I can’t get a slant30 on this business. The finding of that jewellery, now, all nicely wrapped up . . . and then the Dude offering to squeal31. . . . There’s no sense to it.”
“It’s tryin’, I know, Sergeant; but it’s not altogether senseless.” Vance was gazing lazily at the ceiling. “The chap who confiscated32 those baubles33 didn’t have any use for them. He didn’t want them, in fact—they worried him abominably34.”
The point was too complex for Heath. The previous day’s developments had shaken the foundation of all his arguments; and he lapsed35 again into brooding silence.
At ten o’clock he rose impatiently and, going to the hall door, looked out. Returning, he compared his watch with the office clock and began pacing restlessly. Markham was attempting to sort some papers on his desk, but presently he pushed them aside with an impatient gesture.
“He ought to be coming along now,” he remarked, with an effort at cheerfulness.
A few minutes later he turned abruptly37 and went out into the hall. We could hear him calling to Snitkin down the elevator shaft38, but when he came back into the office his expression told us that as yet there was no news of Skeel.
“I’ll call up the Bureau,” he decided, “and see what Guilfoyle had to report. At least we’ll know then when the Dude left his house.”
But when the Sergeant had been connected with Police Headquarters he was informed that Guilfoyle had as yet made no report.
“That’s damn funny,” he commented, hanging up the receiver.
It was now twenty minutes past ten. Markham was growing restive39. The tenacity40 with which the Canary murder case had resisted all his efforts toward a solution had filled him with discouragement; and he had hoped, almost desperately41, that this morning’s interview with Skeel would clear up the mystery, or at least supply him with information on which definite action could be taken. Now, with Skeel late for this all-important appointment, the strain was becoming tense.
He pushed back his chair nervously42 and, going to the window, gazed out into the dark haze43 of fine rain. When he returned to his desk his face was set.
“I’ll give our friend until half past ten,” he said grimly. “If he isn’t here then, Sergeant, you’d better call up the local station-house and have them send a patrol-wagon for him.”
There was another few minutes of silence. Vance lolled in his chair with half-closed eyes, but I noticed that, though he still held his cigarette, he was not smoking. His forehead was puckered44 by a frown, and he was very quiet. I knew that some unusual problem was occupying him. His lethargy had in it a quality of intentness and concentration.
As I watched him he suddenly sat up straight, his eyes open and alert. He tossed his dead cigarette into the receiver with a jerky movement that attested45 to some inner excitation.
“Oh, my word!” he exclaimed. “It really can’t be, y’ know! And yet”—his face darkened—“and yet, by Jove, that’s it! . . . What an ass7 I’ve been—what an unutterable ass! . . . Oh!”
He sprang to his feet; then stood looking down at the floor like a man dazed, afraid of his own thoughts.
“Markham, I don’t like it—I don’t like it at all.” He spoke almost as if he were frightened. “I tell you, there’s something terrible going on—something uncanny. The thought of it makes my flesh creep. . . . I must be getting old and sentimental,” he added, with an effort at lightness; but the look in his eyes belied46 his tone. “Why didn’t I see this thing yesterday? . . . But I let it go on. . . .”
We were all staring at him in amazement47. I had never seen him affected48 in this way before, and the fact that he was habitually49 so cynical50 and aloof51, so adamant52 to emotion and impervious53 to outside influences, gave his words and actions an impelling54 and impressive quality.
After a moment he shook himself slightly, as if to throw off the pall55 of horror that had descended56 upon him, and, stepping to Markham’s desk, he leaned over, resting on both hands.
“Don’t you see?” he asked. “Skeel’s not coming. No use to wait—no use of our having come here in the first place. We have to go to him. He’s waiting for us. . . . Come! Get your hat.”
Markham had risen, and Vance took him firmly by the arm.
“You needn’t argue,” he persisted. “You’ll have to go to him sooner or later. You might as well go now, don’t y’ know.—My word! What a situation!”
He had led Markham, astonished and but mildly protesting, into the middle of the room, and he now beckoned57 to Heath with his free hand.
“You, too, Sergeant. Sorry you had all this trouble. My fault. I should have foreseen this thing. A devilish shame; but my mind was on Monets all yesterday afternoon. . . . You know where Skeel lives?”
Heath nodded mechanically. He had fallen under the spell of Vance’s strange and dynamic importunities.
“Then don’t wait.—And, Sergeant! You’d better bring Burke or Snitkin along. They won’t be needed here—nobody’ll be needed here any more to-day.”
Heath looked inquiringly to Markham for counsel; his bewilderment had thrown him into a state of mute indecision. Markham nodded his approval of Vance’s suggestions, and, without a word, slipped into his raincoat. A few minutes later the four of us, accompanied by Snitkin, had entered Vance’s car and were lurching up-town. Swacker had been sent home; the office had been locked up; and Burke and Emery had departed for the Homicide Bureau to await further instructions.
Skeel lived in 35th Street, near the East River, in a dingy58, but once pretentious59, house which formerly60 had been the residence of some old family of the better class. It now had an air of dilapidation61 and decay; there was rubbish in the areaway; and a large sign announcing rooms for rent was posted in one of the ground-floor windows.
As we drew up before it Heath sprang to the street and looked sharply about him. Presently he espied62 an unkempt man slouching in the doorway63 of a grocery-store diagonally opposite, and beckoned to him. The man shambled over furtively64.
“It’s all right, Guilfoyle,” the Sergeant told him. “We’re paying the Dude a social visit.—What’s the trouble? Why didn’t you report?”
Guilfoyle looked surprised.
“I was told to phone in when he left the house, sir. But he ain’t left yet. Mallory tailed him home last night round ten o’clock, and I relieved Mallory at nine this morning. The Dude’s still inside.”
“Of course he’s still inside, Sergeant,” said Vance, a bit impatiently.
“Second floor, at the back.”
“Right. We’re going in.—Stand by.”
“Look out for him,” admonished66 Guilfoyle. “He’s got a gat.”
Heath took the lead up the worn steps which led from the pavement to the little vestibule. Without ringing, he roughly grasped the door-knob and shook it. The door was unlocked, and we stepped into the stuffy67 lower hallway.
A bedraggled woman of about forty, in a disreputable dressing-gown, and with hair hanging in strings68 over her shoulders, emerged suddenly from a rear door and came toward us unsteadily, her bleary eyes focused on us with menacing resentment69.
“Say!” she burst out, in a rasping voice. “What do youse mean by bustin’ in like this on a respectable lady?” And she launched forth upon a stream of profane70 epithets71.
Heath, who was nearest her, placed his large hand over her face, and gave her a gentle but firm shove backward.
The second-floor hallway was dimly lighted by a small flickering73 gas-jet, and at the rear we could distinguish the outlines of a single door set in the middle of the wall.
“That’ll be Mr. Skeel’s abode,” observed Heath.
He walked up to it and, dropping one hand in his right coat-pocket, turned the knob. But the door was locked. He then knocked violently upon it, and placing his ear to the jamb, listened. Snitkin stood directly behind him, his hand also in his pocket. The rest of us remained a little in the rear.
Heath had knocked a second time when Vance’s voice spoke up from the semidarkness.
“I say, Sergeant, you’re wasting time with all that formality.”
“I guess you’re right,” came the answer after a moment of what seemed unbearable74 silence.
Heath bent75 down and looked at the lock. Then he took some instrument from his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole.
“You’re right,” he repeated. “The key’s gone.”
He stepped back and, balancing on his toes like a sprinter76, sent his shoulders crashing against the panel directly over the knob. But the lock held.
“Come on, Snitkin,” he ordered.
The two detectives hurled77 themselves against the door. At the third onslaught there was a splintering of wood and a tearing of the lock’s bolt through the moulding. The door swung drunkenly inward.
The room was in almost complete darkness. We all hesitated on the threshold, while Snitkin crossed warily78 to one of the windows and sent the shade clattering79 up. The yellow-gray light filtered in, and the objects of the room at once took definable form. A large, old-fashioned bed projected from the wall on the right.
“Look!” cried Snitkin, pointing; and something in his voice sent a shiver over me.
We pressed forward. On the foot of the bed, at the side toward the door, sprawled80 the crumpled81 body of Skeel. Like the Canary, he had been strangled. His head hung back over the foot-board, his face a hideous82 distortion. His arms were outstretched and one leg trailed over the edge of the mattress83, resting on the floor.
“Thuggee,” murmured Vance. “Lindquist mentioned it.—Curious!”
Heath stood staring fixedly84 at the body, his shoulders hunched85. His normal ruddiness of complexion86 was gone, and he seemed like a man hypnotized.
“Mother o’ God!” he breathed, awe-stricken. And, with an involuntary motion, he crossed himself.
“You’re right, Vance.” His voice was strained and unnatural89. “Something sinister90 and terrible has been going on here. . . . There’s a fiend loose in this town—a werewolf.”
“I wouldn’t say that, old man.” Vance regarded the murdered Skeel critically. “No, I wouldn’t say that. Not a werewolf. Just a desperate human being. A man of extremes, perhaps—but quite rational, and logical—oh, how deuced logical!”
点击收听单词发音
1 drizzle | |
v.下毛毛雨;n.毛毛雨,蒙蒙细雨 | |
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2 forerunner | |
n.前身,先驱(者),预兆,祖先 | |
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3 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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4 preoccupied | |
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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5 spoke | |
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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6 articulation | |
n.(清楚的)发音;清晰度,咬合 | |
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7 ass | |
n.驴;傻瓜,蠢笨的人 | |
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8 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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9 enacted | |
制定(法律),通过(法案)( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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11 concealment | |
n.隐藏, 掩盖,隐瞒 | |
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12 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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13 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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14 omniscience | |
n.全知,全知者,上帝 | |
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15 vagary | |
n.妄想,不可测之事,异想天开 | |
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16 sketched | |
v.草拟(sketch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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17 modish | |
adj.流行的,时髦的 | |
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18 cleaver | |
n.切肉刀 | |
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19 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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20 devoid | |
adj.全无的,缺乏的 | |
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21 heartiness | |
诚实,热心 | |
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22 stenographic | |
adj.速记的,利用速记的 | |
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23 placidly | |
adv.平稳地,平静地 | |
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24 languorously | |
adv.疲倦地,郁闷地 | |
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25 vicissitudes | |
n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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26 flicked | |
(尤指用手指或手快速地)轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 ); (用…)轻挥; (快速地)按开关; 向…笑了一下(或瞥了一眼等) | |
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27 sergeant | |
n.警官,中士 | |
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28 grunt | |
v.嘟哝;作呼噜声;n.呼噜声,嘟哝 | |
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29 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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30 slant | |
v.倾斜,倾向性地编写或报道;n.斜面,倾向 | |
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31 squeal | |
v.发出长而尖的声音;n.长而尖的声音 | |
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32 confiscated | |
没收,充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33 baubles | |
n.小玩意( bauble的名词复数 );华而不实的小件装饰品;无价值的东西;丑角的手杖 | |
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34 abominably | |
adv. 可恶地,可恨地,恶劣地 | |
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35 lapsed | |
adj.流失的,堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 );陷入;倒退;丧失 | |
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36 growled | |
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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37 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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38 shaft | |
n.(工具的)柄,杆状物 | |
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39 restive | |
adj.不安宁的,不安静的 | |
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40 tenacity | |
n.坚韧 | |
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41 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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42 nervously | |
adv.神情激动地,不安地 | |
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43 haze | |
n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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44 puckered | |
v.(使某物)起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45 attested | |
adj.经检验证明无病的,经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 );证实;声称…属实;使宣誓 | |
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46 belied | |
v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 );证明(或显示)…为虚假;辜负;就…扯谎 | |
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47 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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48 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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49 habitually | |
ad.习惯地,通常地 | |
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50 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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51 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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52 adamant | |
adj.坚硬的,固执的 | |
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53 impervious | |
adj.不能渗透的,不能穿过的,不易伤害的 | |
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54 impelling | |
adj.迫使性的,强有力的v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的现在分词 ) | |
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55 pall | |
v.覆盖,使平淡无味;n.柩衣,棺罩;棺材;帷幕 | |
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56 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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57 beckoned | |
v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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59 pretentious | |
adj.自命不凡的,自负的,炫耀的 | |
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60 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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61 dilapidation | |
n.倒塌;毁坏 | |
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62 espied | |
v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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64 furtively | |
adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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65 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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66 admonished | |
v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 );训诫;(温和地)责备;轻责 | |
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67 stuffy | |
adj.不透气的,闷热的 | |
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68 strings | |
n.弦 | |
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69 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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70 profane | |
adj.亵神的,亵渎的;vt.亵渎,玷污 | |
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71 epithets | |
n.(表示性质、特征等的)词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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72 ascend | |
vi.渐渐上升,升高;vt.攀登,登上 | |
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73 flickering | |
adj.闪烁的,摇曳的,一闪一闪的 | |
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74 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
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75 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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76 sprinter | |
n.短跑运动员,短距离全速奔跑者 | |
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77 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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78 warily | |
adv.留心地 | |
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79 clattering | |
发出咔哒声(clatter的现在分词形式) | |
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80 sprawled | |
v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词);蔓延;杂乱无序地拓展;四肢伸展坐着(或躺着) | |
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81 crumpled | |
adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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82 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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83 mattress | |
n.床垫,床褥 | |
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84 fixedly | |
adv.固定地;不屈地,坚定不移地 | |
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85 hunched | |
(常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦)耸肩弓身的,伏首前倾的 | |
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86 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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87 jaw | |
n.颚,颌,说教,流言蜚语;v.喋喋不休,教训 | |
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88 rigidly | |
adv.刻板地,僵化地 | |
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89 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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90 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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