‘You have seen the orders?’
I nodded.
‘The long day’s work is over. You must rejoice, for your part has been the hardest, I think. Some day you will tell me about it?’
The man’s face was honest and kindly2, rather like that of the engineer Gaudian, whom two years before I had met in Germany. But his eyes fascinated me, for they were the eyes of the dreamer and fanatic3, who would not desist from his quest while life lasted. I thought that Ivery had chosen well in his colleague.
‘My task is not done yet,’ I said. ‘I came here to see Chelius.’
‘He will be back tomorrow evening.’
‘Too late. I must see him at once. He has gone to Italy, and I must overtake him.’
‘You know your duty best,’ he said gravely.
‘But you must help me. I must catch him at Santa Chiara, for it is a business of life and death. Is there a car to be had?’
‘There is mine. But there is no chauffeur4. Chelius took him.’
‘I can drive myself and I know the road. But I have no pass to cross the frontier.’
‘That is easily supplied,’ he said, smiling.
In one bookcase there was a shelf of dummy5 books. He unlocked this and revealed a small cupboard, whence he took a tin dispatch-box. From some papers he selected one, which seemed to be already signed.
‘Name?’ he asked.
‘Call me Hans Gruber of Brieg,’ I said. ‘I travel to pick up my master, who is in the timber trade.’
‘And your return?’
‘I will come back by my old road,’ I said mysteriously; and if he knew what I meant it was more than I did myself.
He completed the paper and handed it to me. ‘This will take you through the frontier posts. And now for the car. The servants will be in bed, for they have been preparing for a long journey, but I will myself show it you. There is enough petrol on board to take you to Rome.’
He led me through the hall, unlocked the front door, and we crossed the snowy lawn to the garage. The place was empty but for a great car, which bore the marks of having come from the muddy lowlands. To my joy I saw that it was a Daimler, a type with which I was familiar. I lit the lamps, started the engine, and ran it out on to the road.
‘You will want an overcoat,’ he said.
‘I never wear them.’
‘Food?’
‘I have some chocolate. I will breakfast at Santa Chiara.’
‘Well, God go with you!’
A minute later I was tearing along the lake-side towards St Anton village.
I stopped at the cottage on the hill. Peter was not yet in bed. I found him sitting by the fire, trying to read, but I saw by his face that he had been waiting anxiously on my coming.
‘We’re in the soup, old man,’ I said as I shut the door. In a dozen sentences I told him of the night’s doings, of Ivery’s plan and my desperate errand.
‘You wanted a share,’ I cried. ‘Well, everything depends on you now. I’m off after Ivery, and God knows what will happen. Meantime, you have got to get on to Blenkiron, and tell him what I’ve told you. He must get the news through to G.H.Q. somehow. He must trap the Wild Birds before they go. I don’t know how, but he must. Tell him it’s all up to him and you, for I’m out of it. I must save Mary, and if God’s willing I’ll settle with Ivery. But the big job is for Blenkiron — and you. Somehow he has made a bad break, and the enemy has got ahead of him. He must sweat blood to make up. My God, Peter, it’s the solemnest moment of our lives. I don’t see any light, but we mustn’t miss any chances. I’m leaving it all to you.’
I spoke6 like a man in a fever, for after what I had been through I wasn’t quite sane7. My coolness in the Pink Chalet had given place to a crazy restlessness. I can see Peter yet, standing8 in the ring of lamplight, supporting himself by a chair back, wrinkling his brows and, as he always did in moments of excitement, scratching gently the tip of his left ear. His face was happy.
‘Never fear, Dick,’ he said. ‘It will all come right. Ons sal ‘n plan maak.’
And then, still possessed9 with a demon10 of disquiet11, I was on the road again, heading for the pass that led to Italy.
The mist had gone from the sky, and the stars were shining brightly. The moon, now at the end of its first quarter, was setting in a gap of the mountains, as I climbed the low col from the St Anton valley to the greater Staubthal. There was frost and the hard snow crackled under my wheels, but there was also that feel in the air which preludes12 storm. I wondered if I should run into snow in the high hills. The whole land was deep in peace. There was not a light in the hamlets I passed through, not a soul on the highway.
In the Staubthal I joined the main road and swung to the left up the narrowing bed of the valley. The road was in noble condition, and the car was running finely, as I mounted through forests of snowy Pines to a land where the mountains crept close together, and the highway coiled round the angles of great crags or skirted perilously13 some profound gorge14, with only a line of wooden posts to defend it from the void. In places the snow stood in walls on either side, where the road was kept open by man’s labour. In other parts it lay thin, and in the dim light one might have fancied that one was running through open meadowlands.
Slowly my head was getting clearer, and I was able to look round my problem. I banished16 from my mind the situation I had left behind me. Blenkiron must cope with that as best he could. It lay with him to deal with the Wild Birds, my job was with Ivery alone. Sometime in the early morning he would reach Santa Chiara, and there he would find Mary. Beyond that my imagination could forecast nothing. She would be alone — I could trust his cleverness for that; he would try to force her to come with him, or he might persuade her with some lying story. Well, please God, I should come in for the tail end of the interview, and at the thought I cursed the steep gradients I was climbing, and longed for some magic to lift the Daimler beyond the summit and set it racing17 down the slope towards Italy.
I think it was about half-past three when I saw the lights of the frontier post. The air seemed milder than in the valleys, and there was a soft scurry18 of snow on my right cheek. A couple of sleepy Swiss sentries19 with their rifles in their hands stumbled out as I drew up.
They took my pass into the hut and gave me an anxious quarter of an hour while they examined it. The performance was repeated fifty yards on at the Italian post, where to my alarm the sentries were inclined to conversation. I played the part of the sulky servant, answering in monosyllables and pretending to immense stupidity.
‘You are only just in time, friend,’ said one in German. ‘The weather grows bad and soon the pass will close. Ugh, it is as cold as last winter on the Tonale. You remember, Giuseppe?’
But in the end they let me move on. For a little I felt my way gingerly, for on the summit the road had many twists and the snow was confusing to the eyes. Presently came a sharp drop and I let the Daimler go. It grew colder, and I shivered a little; the snow became a wet white fog around the glowing arc of the headlights; and always the road fell, now in long curves, now in steep short dips, till I was aware of a glen opening towards the south. From long living in the wilds I have a kind of sense for landscape without the testimony20 of the eyes, and I knew where the ravine narrowed or widened though it was black darkness.
In spite of my restlessness I had to go slowly, for after the first rush downhill I realized that, unless I was careful, I might wreck21 the car and spoil everything. The surface of the road on the southern slope of the mountains was a thousand per cent worse than that on the other. I skidded22 and side-slipped, and once grazed the edge of the gorge. It was far more maddening than the climb up, for then it had been a straight-forward grind with the Daimler doing its utmost, whereas now I had to hold her back because of my own lack of skill. I reckon that time crawling down from the summit of the Staub as some of the weariest hours I ever spent.
Quite suddenly I ran out of the ill weather into a different climate. The sky was clear above me, and I saw that dawn was very near. The first pinewoods were beginning, and at last came a straight slope where I could let the car out. I began to recover my spirits, which had been very dashed, and to reckon the distance I had still to travel . . . And then, without warning, a new world sprang up around me. Out of the blue dusk white shapes rose like ghosts, peaks and needles and domes23 of ice, their bases fading mistily24 into shadow, but the tops kindling25 till they glowed like jewels. I had never seen such a sight, and the wonder of it for a moment drove anxiety from my heart. More, it gave me an earnest of victory. I was in clear air once more, and surely in this diamond ether the foul26 things which loved the dark must be worsted . . .
And then I saw, a mile ahead, the little square red-roofed building which I knew to be the inn of Santa Chiara.
It was here that misfortune met me. I had grown careless now, and looked rather at the house than the road. At one point the hillside had slipped down — it must have been recent, for the road was well kept — and I did not notice the landslide27 till I was on it. I slewed28 to the right, took too wide a curve, and before I knew the car was over the far edge. I slapped on the brakes, but to avoid turning turtle I had to leave the road altogether. I slithered down a steep bank into a meadow, where for my sins I ran into a fallen tree trunk with a jar that shook me out of my seat and nearly broke my arm. Before I examined the car I knew what had happened. The front axle was bent29, and the off front wheel badly buckled30.
I had not time to curse my stupidity. I clambered back to the road and set off running down it at my best speed. I was mortally stiff, for Ivery’s rack was not good for the joints31, but I realized it only as a drag on my pace, not as an affliction in itself. My whole mind was set on the house before me and what might be happening there.
There was a man at the door of the inn, who, when he caught sight of my figure, began to move to meet me. I saw that it was Launcelot Wake, and the sight gave me hope.
But his face frightened me. It was drawn32 and haggard like one who never sleeps, and his eyes were hot coals.
‘Hannay,’ he cried, ‘for God’s sake what does it mean?’
‘Where is Mary?’ I gasped33, and I remember I clutched at a lapel of his coat.
He pulled me to the low stone wall by the roadside.
‘I don’t know,’ he said hoarsely35. ‘We got your orders to come here this morning. We were at Chiavagno, where Blenkiron told us to wait. But last night Mary disappeared . . . I found she had hired a carriage and come on ahead. I followed at once, and reached here an hour ago to find her gone . . . The woman who keeps the place is away and there are only two old servants left. They tell me that Mary came here late, and that very early in the morning a closed car came over the Staub with a man in it. They say he asked to see the young lady, and that they talked together for some time, and that then she went off with him in the car down the valley . . . I must have passed it on my way up . . . There’s been some black devilment that I can’t follow. Who was the man? Who was the man?’
He looked as if he wanted to throttle36 me.
‘I can tell you that,’ I said. ‘It was Ivery.’
He stared for a second as if he didn’t understand. Then he leaped to his feet and cursed like a trooper. ‘You’ve botched it, as I knew you would. I knew no good would come of your infernal subtleties37.’ And he consigned38 me and Blenkiron and the British army and Ivery and everybody else to the devil.
I was past being angry. ‘Sit down, man,’ I said, ‘and listen to me.’ I told him of what had happened at the Pink Chalet. He heard me out with his head in his hands. The thing was too bad for cursing.
‘The Underground Railway!’ he groaned39. ‘The thought of it drives me mad. Why are you so calm, Hannay? She’s in the hands of the cleverest devil in the world, and you take it quietly. You should be a raving40 lunatic.’
‘I would be if it were any use, but I did all my raving last night in that den15 of Ivery’s. We’ve got to pull ourselves together, Wake. First of all, I trust Mary to the other side of eternity41. She went with him of her own free will. I don’t know why, but she must have had a reason, and be sure it was a good one, for she’s far cleverer than you or me . . . We’ve got to follow her somehow. Ivery’s bound for Germany, but his route is by the Pink Chalet, for he hopes to pick me up there. He went down the valley; therefore he is going to Switzerland by the Marjolana. That is a long circuit and will take him most of the day. Why he chose that way I don’t know, but there it is. We’ve got to get back by the Staub.’
‘How did you come?’ he asked.
‘That’s our damnable luck. I came in a first-class six-cylinder Daimler, which is now lying a wreck in a meadow a mile up the road. We’ve got to foot it.’
‘We can’t do it. It would take too long. Besides, there’s the frontier to pass.’
I remembered ruefully that I might have got a return passport from the Portuguese42 Jew, if I had thought of anything at the time beyond getting to Santa Chiara.
‘Then we must make a circuit by the hillside and dodge43 the guards. It’s no use making difficulties, Wake. We’re fairly up against it, but we’ve got to go on trying till we drop. Otherwise I’ll take your advice and go mad.’
‘And supposing you get back to St Anton, you’ll find the house shut up and the travellers gone hours before by the Underground Railway.’
‘Very likely. But, man, there’s always the glimmering44 of a chance. It’s no good chucking in your hand till the game’s out.’
‘drop your proverbial philosophy, Mr Martin Tupper, and look up there.’
He had one foot on the wall and was staring at a cleft45 in the snow-line across the valley. The shoulder of a high peak dropped sharply to a kind of nick and rose again in a long graceful46 curve of snow. All below the nick was still in deep shadow, but from the configuration47 of the slopes I judged that a tributary48 glacier49 ran from it to the main glacier at the river head.
‘That’s the Colle delle Rondini,’ he said, ‘the Col of the Swallows. It leads straight to the Staubthal near Grunewald. On a good day I have done it in seven hours, but it’s not a pass for winter-time. It has been done of course, but not often. . . . Yet, if the weather held, it might go even now, and that would bring us to St Anton by the evening. I wonder’— and he looked me over with an appraising50 eye —‘I wonder if you’re up to it.’
My stiffness had gone and I burned to set my restlessness to physical toil51.
‘If you can do it, I can,’ I said.
‘No. There you’re wrong. You’re a hefty fellow, but you’re no mountaineer, and the ice of the Colle delle Rondini needs knowledge. It would be insane to risk it with a novice52, if there were any other way. But I’m damned if I see any, and I’m going to chance it. We can get a rope and axes in the inn. Are you game?’
‘Right you are. Seven hours, you say. We’ve got to do it in six.’
‘You will be humbler when you get on the ice,’ he said grimly. ‘We’d better breakfast, for the Lord knows when we shall see food again.’
We left the inn at five minutes to nine, with the sky cloudless and a stiff wind from the north-west, which we felt even in the deep-cut valley. Wake walked with a long, slow stride that tried my patience. I wanted to hustle54, but he bade me keep in step. ‘You take your orders from me, for I’ve been at this job before. Discipline in the ranks, remember.’
We crossed the river gorge by a plank55 bridge, and worked our way up the right bank, past the moraine, to the snout of the glacier. It was bad going, for the snow concealed57 the boulders58, and I often floundered in holes. Wake never relaxed his stride, but now and then he stopped to sniff59 the air.
I observed that the weather looked good, and he differed. ‘It’s too clear. There’ll be a full-blown gale60 on the Col and most likely snow in the afternoon.’ He pointed to a fat yellow cloud that was beginning to bulge61 over the nearest peak. After that I thought he lengthened62 his stride.
‘Lucky I had these boots resoled and nailed at Chiavagno,’ was the only other remark he made till we had passed the seracs of the main glacier and turned up the lesser63 ice-stream from the Colle delle Rondini.
By half-past ten we were near its head, and I could see clearly the ribbon of pure ice between black crags too steep for snow to lie on, which was the means of ascent64 to the Col. The sky had clouded over, and ugly streamers floated on the high slopes. We tied on the rope at the foot of the bergschrund, which was easy to pass because of the winter’s snow. Wake led, of course, and presently we came on to the icefall.
In my time I had done a lot of scrambling65 on rocks and used to promise myself a season in the Alps to test myself on the big peaks. If I ever go it will be to climb the honest rock towers around Chamonix, for I won’t have anything to do with snow mountains. That day on the Colle delle Rondini fairly sickened me of ice. I daresay I might have liked it if I had done it in a holiday mood, at leisure and in good spirits. But to crawl up that couloir with a sick heart and a desperate impulse to hurry was the worst sort of nightmare. The place was as steep as a wall of smooth black ice that seemed hard as granite66. Wake did the step-cutting, and I admired him enormously. He did not seem to use much force, but every step was hewn cleanly the right size, and they were spaced the right distance. In this job he was the true professional. I was thankful Blenkiron was not with us, for the thing would have given a squirrel vertigo67. The chips of ice slithered between my legs and I could watch them till they brought up just above the bergschrund.
The ice was in shadow and it was bitterly cold. As we crawled up I had not the exercise of using the axe53 to warm me, and I got very numb68 standing on one leg waiting for the next step. Worse still, my legs began to cramp69. I was in good condition, but that time under Ivery’s rack had played the mischief70 with my limbs. Muscles got out of place in my calves71 and stood in aching lumps, till I almost squealed72 with the pain of it. I was mortally afraid I should slip, and every time I moved I called out to Wake to warn him. He saw what was happening and got the pick of his axe fixed73 in the ice before I was allowed to stir. He spoke often to cheer me up, and his voice had none of its harshness. He was like some ill-tempered generals I have known, very gentle in a battle.
At the end the snow began to fall, a soft powder like the overspill of a storm raging beyond the crest74. It was just after that that Wake cried out that in five minutes we would be at the summit. He consulted his wrist-watch. ‘Jolly good time, too. Only twenty-five minutes behind my best. It’s not one o’clock.’
The next I knew I was lying flat on a pad of snow easing my cramped75 legs, while Wake shouted in my ear that we were in for something bad. I was aware of a driving blizzard76, but I had no thought of anything but the blessed relief from pain. I lay for some minutes on my back with my legs stiff in the air and the toes turned inwards, while my muscles fell into their proper place.
It was certainly no spot to linger in. We looked down into a trough of driving mist, which sometimes swirled77 aside and showed a knuckle78 of black rock far below. We ate some chocolate, while Wake shouted in my ear that now we had less step-cutting. He did his best to cheer me, but he could not hide his anxiety. Our faces were frosted over like a wedding-cake and the sting of the wind was like a whiplash on our eyelids79.
The first part was easy, down a slope of firm snow where steps were not needed. Then came ice again, and we had to cut into it below the fresh surface snow. This was so laborious80 that Wake took to the rocks on the right side of the couloir, where there was some shelter from the main force of the blast. I found it easier, for I knew something about rocks, but it was difficult enough with every handhold and foothold glazed81. Presently we were driven back again to the ice, and painfully cut our way through a throat of the ravine where the sides narrowed. There the wind was terrible, for the narrows made a kind of funnel82, and we descended83, plastered against the wall, and scarcely able to breathe, while the tornado84 plucked at our bodies as if it would whisk us like wisps of grass into the abyss.
After that the gorge widened and we had an easier slope, till suddenly we found ourselves perched on a great tongue of rock round which the snow blew like the froth in a whirlpool. As we stopped for breath, Wake shouted in my ear that this was the Black Stone.
‘The what?’ I yelled.
‘The Schwarzstein. The Swiss call the pass the Schwarzsteinthor. You can see it from Grunewald.’
I suppose every man has a tinge85 of superstition86 in him. To hear that name in that ferocious87 place gave me a sudden access of confidence. I seemed to see all my doings as part of a great predestined plan. Surely it was not for nothing that the word which had been the key of my first adventure in the long tussle88 should appear in this last phase. I felt new strength in my legs and more vigour89 in my lungs. ‘A good omen,’ I shouted. ‘Wake, old man, we’re going to win out.’
‘The worst is still to come,’ he said.
He was right. To get down that tongue of rock to the lower snows of the couloir was a job that fairly brought us to the end of our tether. I can feel yet the sour, bleak90 smell of wet rock and ice and the hard nerve pain that racked my forehead. The Kaffirs used to say that there were devils in the high berg, and this place was assuredly given over to the powers of the air who had no thought of human life. I seemed to be in the world which had endured from the eternity before man was dreamed of. There was no mercy in it, and the elements were pitting their immortal91 strength against two pigmies who had profaned92 their sanctuary93. I yearned94 for warmth, for the glow of a fire, for a tree or blade of grass or anything which meant the sheltered homeliness95 of mortality. I knew then what the Greeks meant by panic, for I was scared by the apathy96 of nature. But the terror gave me a kind of comfort, too. Ivery and his doings seemed less formidable. Let me but get out of this cold hell and I could meet him with a new confidence.
Wake led, for he knew the road and the road wanted knowing. Otherwise he should have been last on the rope, for that is the place of the better man in a descent. I had some horrible moments following on when the rope grew taut97, for I had no help from it. We zigzagged98 down the rock, sometimes driven to the ice of the adjacent couloirs, sometimes on the outer ridge56 of the Black Stone, sometimes wriggling99 down little cracks and over evil boiler-plates. The snow did not lie on it, but the rock crackled with thin ice or oozed100 ice water. Often it was only by the grace of God that I did not fall headlong, and pull Wake out of his hold to the bergschrund far below. I slipped more than once, but always by a miracle recovered myself. To make things worse, Wake was tiring. I could feel him drag on the rope, and his movements had not the precision they had had in the morning. He was the mountaineer, and I the novice. If he gave out, we should never reach the valley.
The fellow was clear grit101 all through. When we reached the foot of the tooth and sat huddled102 up with our faces away from the wind, I saw that he was on the edge of fainting. What that effort Must have cost him in the way of resolution you may guess, but he did not fail till the worst was past. His lips were colourless, and he was choking with the nausea103 of fatigue104. I found a flask105 of brandy in his pocket, and a mouthful revived him.
‘I’m all out,’ he said. ‘The road’s easier now, and I can direct YOU about the rest . . . You’d better leave me. I’ll only be a drag. I’ll come on when I feel better.’
‘No, you don’t, you old fool. You’ve got me over that infernal iceberg106, and I’m going to see you home.’
I rubbed his arms and legs and made him swallow some chocolate. But when he got on his feet he was as doddery as an old man. Happily we had an easy course down a snow gradient, which we glissaded in very unorthodox style. The swift motion freshened him up a little, and he was able to put on the brake with his axe to prevent us cascading107 into the bergschrund. We crossed it by a snow bridge, and started out on the seracs of the Schwarzstein glacier.
I am no mountaineer — not of the snow and ice kind, anyway — but I have a big share of physical strength and I wanted it all now. For those seracs were an invention of the devil. To traverse that labyrinth108 in a blinding snowstorm, with a fainting companion who was too weak to jump the narrowest crevasse109, and who hung on the rope like lead when there was occasion to use it, was more than I could manage. Besides, every step that brought us nearer to the valley now increased my eagerness to hurry, and wandering in that maze110 of clotted111 ice was like the nightmare when you stand on the rails with the express coming and are too weak to climb on the platform. As soon as possible I left the glacier for the hillside, and though that was laborious enough in all conscience, yet it enabled me to steer112 a straight course. Wake never spoke a word. When I looked at him his face was ashen113 under a gale which should have made his cheeks glow, and he kept his eyes half closed. He was staggering on at the very limits of his endurance . . .
By and by we were on the moraine, and after splashing through a dozen little glacier streams came on a track which led up the hillside. Wake nodded feebly when I asked if this was right. Then to my joy I saw a gnarled pine.
I untied114 the rope and Wake dropped like a log on the ground. ‘Leave me,’ he groaned. ‘I’m fairly done. I’ll come on later.’ And he shut his eyes.
My watch told me that it was after five o’clock.
‘Get on my back,’ I said. ‘I won’t part from you till I’ve found a cottage. You’re a hero. You’ve brought me over those damned mountains in a blizzard, and that’s what no other man in England would have done. Get up.’
He obeyed, for he was too far gone to argue. I tied his wrists together with a handkerchief below my chin, for I wanted my arms to hold up his legs. The rope and axes I left in a cache beneath the pine-tree. Then I started trotting115 down the track for the nearest dwelling116.
My strength felt inexhaustible and the quicksilver in my bones drove me forward. The snow was still falling, but the wind was dying down, and after the inferno117 of the pass it was like summer. The road wound over the shale118 of the hillside and then into what in spring must have been upland meadows. Then it ran among trees, and far below me on the right I could hear the glacier river churning in its gorge’ Soon little empty huts appeared, and rough enclosed paddocks, and presently I came out on a shelf above the stream and smelt119 the wood-smoke of a human habitation.
I found a middle-aged120 peasant in the cottage, a guide by profession in summer and a woodcutter in winter.
‘I have brought my Herr from Santa Chiara,’ I said, ‘over the Schwarzsteinthor. He is very weary and must sleep.’
I decanted121 Wake into a chair, and his head nodded on his chest. But his colour was better.
‘You and your Herr are fools,’ said the man gruffly, but not unkindly. ‘He must sleep or he will have a fever. The Schwarzsteinthor in this devil’s weather! Is he English?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘like all madmen. But he’s a good Herr, and a brave mountaineer.’
We stripped Wake of his Red Cross uniform, now a collection of sopping122 rags, and got him between blankets with a huge earthenware123 bottle of hot water at his feet. The woodcutter’s wife boiled milk, and this, with a little brandy added, we made him drink. I was quite easy in my mind about him, for I had seen this condition before. In the morning he would be as stiff as a poker124, but recovered.
‘Now I’m off for St Anton,’ I said. ‘I must get there tonight.’
‘You are the hardy125 one,’ the man laughed. ‘I will show you the quick road to Grunewald, where is the railway. With good fortune you may get the last train.’
I gave him fifty francs on my Herr’s behalf, learned his directions for the road, and set off after a draught126 of goat’s milk, munching127 my last slab128 of chocolate. I was still strung up to a mechanical activity, and I ran every inch of the three miles to the Staubthal without consciousness of fatigue. I was twenty minutes too soon for the train, and, as I sat on a bench on the platform, my energy suddenly ebbed129 away. That is what happens after a great exertion130. I longed to sleep, and when the train arrived I crawled into a carriage like a man with a stroke. There seemed to be no force left in my limbs. I realized that I was leg-weary, which is a thing you see sometimes with horses, but not often with men.
All the journey I lay like a log in a kind of coma131, and it was with difficulty that I recognized my destination, and stumbled out of the train. But I had no sooner emerged from the station of St Anton than I got my second wind. Much snow had fallen since yesterday, but it had stopped now, the sky was clear, and the moon was riding. The sight of the familiar place brought back all my anxieties. The day on the Col of the Swallows was wiped out of my memory, and I saw only the inn at Santa Chiara, and heard Wake’s hoarse34 voice speaking of Mary. The lights were twinkling from the village below, and on the right I saw the clump132 of trees which held the Pink Chalet.
I took a short cut across the fields, avoiding the little town. I ran hard, stumbling often, for though I had got my mental energy back my legs were still precarious133. The station clock had told me that it was nearly half-past nine.
Soon I was on the high-road, and then at the Chalet gates. I heard as in a dream what seemed to be three shrill134 blasts on a whistle. Then a big car passed me, making for St Anton. For a second I would have hailed it, but it was past me and away. But I had a conviction that my business lay in the house, for I thought Ivery was there, and Ivery was what mattered.
I marched up the drive with no sort of plan in my head, only a blind rushing on fate. I remembered dimly that I had still three cartridges135 in my revolver.
The front door stood open and I entered and tiptoed down the passage to the room where I had found the Portuguese Jew. No one hindered me, but it was not for lack of servants. I had the impression that there were people near me in the darkness, and I thought I heard German softly spoken. There was someone ahead of me, perhaps the speaker, for I could hear careful footsteps. It was very dark, but a ray of light came from below the door of the room. Then behind me I heard the hall door clang, and the noise of a key turned in its lock. I had walked straight into a trap and all retreat was cut off.
My mind was beginning to work more clearly, though my purpose was still vague. I wanted to get at Ivery and I believed that he was somewhere in front of me. And then I thought of the door which led from the chamber136 where I had been imprisoned137. If I could enter that way I would have the advantage of surprise.
I groped on the right-hand side of the passage and found a handle. It opened upon what seemed to be a dining-room, for there was a faint smell of food. Again I had the impression of people near, who for some unknown reason did not molest138 me. At the far end I found another door, which led to a second room, which I guessed to be adjacent to the library. Beyond it again must lie the passage from the chamber with the rack. The whole place was as quiet as a shell.
I had guessed right. I was standing in the passage where I had stood the night before. In front of me was the library, and there was the same chink of light showing. Very softly I turned the handle and opened it a crack . . .
The first thing that caught my eye was the profile of Ivery. He was looking towards the writing-table, where someone was sitting.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
fanatic
|
|
| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
chauffeur
|
|
| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
dummy
|
|
| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
disquiet
|
|
| n.担心，焦虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
preludes
|
|
| n.开端( prelude的名词复数 )；序幕；序曲；短篇作品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
perilously
|
|
| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
gorge
|
|
| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
racing
|
|
| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
scurry
|
|
| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
sentries
|
|
| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
skidded
|
|
| v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的过去式和过去分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
domes
|
|
| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
mistily
|
|
| adv.有雾地，朦胧地，不清楚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
kindling
|
|
| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
landslide
|
|
| n.(竞选中)压倒多数的选票；一面倒的胜利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
slewed
|
|
| adj.喝醉的v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去式 )( slew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
buckled
|
|
| a. 有带扣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
joints
|
|
| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
hoarsely
|
|
| adv.嘶哑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
throttle
|
|
| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
subtleties
|
|
| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
consigned
|
|
| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
raving
|
|
| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
eternity
|
|
| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
Portuguese
|
|
| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
dodge
|
|
| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
glimmering
|
|
| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
cleft
|
|
| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
configuration
|
|
| n.结构，布局，形态，(计算机)配置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
tributary
|
|
| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
glacier
|
|
| n.冰川，冰河 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
appraising
|
|
| v.估价( appraise的现在分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
novice
|
|
| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
axe
|
|
| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
hustle
|
|
| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
plank
|
|
| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
boulders
|
|
| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
sniff
|
|
| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
gale
|
|
| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
bulge
|
|
| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
lengthened
|
|
| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
ascent
|
|
| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
scrambling
|
|
| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
granite
|
|
| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
vertigo
|
|
| n.眩晕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
numb
|
|
| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
cramp
|
|
| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
calves
|
|
| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
squealed
|
|
| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
crest
|
|
| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
cramped
|
|
| a.狭窄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
blizzard
|
|
| n.暴风雪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
swirled
|
|
| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
knuckle
|
|
| n.指节；vi.开始努力工作；屈服，认输 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
laborious
|
|
| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
glazed
|
|
| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
funnel
|
|
| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
tornado
|
|
| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
ferocious
|
|
| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
tussle
|
|
| n.&v.扭打，搏斗，争辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
bleak
|
|
| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
profaned
|
|
| v.不敬( profane的过去式和过去分词 )；亵渎，玷污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
sanctuary
|
|
| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
homeliness
|
|
| n.简朴，朴实；相貌平平 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
apathy
|
|
| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
taut
|
|
| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
zigzagged
|
|
| adj.呈之字形移动的v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
wriggling
|
|
| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
oozed
|
|
| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
grit
|
|
| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
huddled
|
|
| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
nausea
|
|
| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
flask
|
|
| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
iceberg
|
|
| n.冰山，流冰，冷冰冰的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
cascading
|
|
| 流注( cascade的现在分词 )； 大量落下； 大量垂悬； 梯流 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
labyrinth
|
|
| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
crevasse
|
|
| n. 裂缝，破口；v.使有裂缝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
maze
|
|
| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
clotted
|
|
| adj.凝结的v.凝固( clot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
steer
|
|
| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
ashen
|
|
| adj.灰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
untied
|
|
| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
trotting
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
inferno
|
|
| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
shale
|
|
| n.页岩，泥板岩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
smelt
|
|
| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
decanted
|
|
| v.将（酒等）自瓶中倒入另一容器( decant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
sopping
|
|
| adj. 浑身湿透的 动词sop的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
earthenware
|
|
| n.土器，陶器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
poker
|
|
| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
hardy
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
munching
|
|
| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
ebbed
|
|
| （指潮水）退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
coma
|
|
| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
clump
|
|
| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
precarious
|
|
| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
cartridges
|
|
| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
molest
|
|
| vt.骚扰，干扰，调戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |