My view of the case was apparently2 shared by Stalker; for when, being in the City on other business, we dropped in at his office, he expressed himself to that effect.
“An unsatisfactory affair from our point of view,” he commented, “but there was nothing that we could really boggle at. Of course, when an entire insured stock is destroyed, you have to be wary3. A trader who has a redundant4 or obsolete5 or damaged stock can make a big profit by burning the whole lot out and recovering the full value from the insurance society. But there doesn’t seem to be anything of that kind. Green appears to be perfectly7 straight. He has given us every facility for checking the value of the stock, and we find it all correct.”
“I suppose,” said I, “you couldn’t have raised the question of negligence8 in allowing a casual stranger to occupy a bedroom in his box of fireworks. He knew that Moxdale wasn’t a very safe tenant9.”
“There is no evidence,” Thorndyke reminded me, “that Moxdale set fire to the house. He probably did, but that is a mere10 guess on our part.”
“Exactly,” Stalker agreed, “and even if he did, he certainly did not do it consciously or intentionally11. And, by the way, speaking of this man Moxdale, it happens, oddly enough, that his life was insured in this office. So he has let us in for two payments.”
“Anything considerable?” Thorndyke asked.
“No. Only a thousand.”
“Have you paid the claim?”
“Not yet; in fact, no claim has been made up to the present, and it isn’t our business to hunt up the claimants. But we shall have to pay, for I suppose that even you could not make out a case of suicide.”
“No,” Thorndyke admitted,” I think we can exclude suicide. At any rate, there was nothing to suggest it. You accept the identity?”
“There doesn’t seem to be much doubt,” replied Stalker, “but the next of kin6, or whoever makes the claim, will have to confirm the statements of Green and Haire. But I don’t think there is anything in the question of identity. Do you?”
“So far as I know, the question was fairly well settled at the inquest, and I don’t think it could be contested unless some positive evidence to the contrary should be produced. But we have to bear in mind that the identity was based on the statement of Walter Green and that his evidence was hearsay12 evidence.”
“Yes,” said Stalker, “I will bear that in mind when the claim is put in, if it ever is. If no claim is made, the question will not be of any interest to me.”
So that was the position. Stalker was not interested and, consequently, we, as his agents, had no further interest in the case; and, so far as I was concerned, it had passed into complete oblivion when my recollection of it was revived by Thorndyke. It was at breakfast time a week or two after our conversation with Stalker that my colleague, who was, according to his habit, glancing over the legal notices in The Times, looked up at me and remarked: “Here is a coincidence in a small way. I don’t remember having ever met with the name of Moxdale until we attended the late inquest. It certainly is not a common name.”
“No,” I agreed, “I don’t think I ever heard it excepting in connection with Cecil Moxdale deceased. But what is the coincidence?
“Here is another Moxdale, also deceased,” he replied, handing me the paper and indicating the paragraph. It was an ordinary solicitor’s notice beginning, “Re. Harold Moxdale deceased who died on the 3 of April 1936”, and calling on creditors13 and others to make their claims by a certain specified14 date; of no interest to me apart from the mere coincidence of the name. Nor did Thorndyke make any further comment, though I observed that he cut out the notice, and, having fixed15 it with a dab16 of paste to a sheet of paper, added it to the collection of notes forming the Moxdale dossier. Then, once more, the” case” seemed to have sunk into oblivion.
But a few days later it was revived by no less a person than Inspector17 Blandy; and the manner of its revival18 was characteristic of that extremely politic19 gentleman. It was about half past eight one evening when, after an early dinner, Thorndyke, Polton and I were holding a sort of committee meeting to review and reclassify the great collection of microscope slides of hairs, fibres and other “comparison specimens20” which had accumulated in the course of years. We had just finished the first of the new cabinets and were labelling the drawers when an unfamiliar21 knock, of an almost apologetic softness, was executed on the small brass22 knocker of the inner door.
“Confound it!” I exclaimed, impatiently. “We ought to have shut the oak. Who the deuce can it be?”
The question was answered by Polton, who, as he opened the door and peered out, stepped back and announced: “Inspector Blandy.”
We both stood up, and Thorndyke, with his customary suavity23, advanced to greet the visitor and offer him a chair.
“Pray, gentlemen,” exclaimed Blandy, casting an inquisitive24 glance over the collection on the table, “do not let me disturb you, though, to be sure, I can see that I am disturbing you. But the disturbance25 need be only of the briefest. I have come — very improperly26, without an appointment — merely to tender apologies and to make all too tardy27 amends28. When I have done that, I can go, and leave you to pursue your investigations29.”
“They are not investigations,” said Thorndyke. “We are just going over our stock of test specimens and rearranging them. But what do you mean by apologies and reparations? We have no grievance30 against you.”
“You are kind enough to say so,” replied Blandy, “but I am, nevertheless, a defaulter. I made a promise and have not kept it. Mea culpa.” He tapped his chest lightly with his knuckles31 and continued: “When I had the pleasure of meeting you in the ruins of the burned house I promised to let you have an opportunity of examining the various objects that were retrieved32 from the debris33. This evening, it suddenly dawned on me that I never did so. I was horrified34, and, in my impulsive35 way, I hurried, without reflection, to seek your forgiveness and to make such amends as were possible.”
“I don’t think, Blandy,” said Thorndyke, “that the trifling36 omission37 mattered. We seemed to have all the information that we wanted.”
“So we did, but perhaps we were wrong. At any rate, I have now brought the things for you to see, if they are still of any interest. It is rather late, I must admit.”
“Yes, by Jove!” I agreed. “It is the day after the fair. But what things have you brought, and where are they?”
“The exhibits which you saw at the inquest, I have here in my attaché-case. If you would like me to leave them with you for examination at your leisure, I can do so, but we shall want them back. The other things are a box in my car, and, as we have finished with them, you can dispose of them as you please when you have examined them, if you think the examination worth while.”
“I take it,” said Thorndyke, “that you have been through them pretty thoroughly38. Did you find any thing in any way significant?”
The inspector regarded Thorndyke with his queer, benevolent39 smile as he replied: “Not significant to me; but who knows what I may have overlooked? I could not bring to bear on them either your intellect, your encyclopaedic knowledge, or your unrivalled means of research.” Here he waved his hand to wards40 the table and seemed to bestow41 a silent benediction42 on the microscopes and the trays of slides. “Perhaps,” he concluded, “these simple things might have for you some message which they have withheld43 from me.”
As I listened to Blandy’s discourse44, I found myself speculating on the actual purpose of his visit. He could not have come to talk this balderdash or to deliver the box of trash that he had brought with him. What object, I wondered, lay behind his manoeuvres? Probably it would transpire45 presently; but, meanwhile, I thought it as well to give him a lead.
“It is very good of you, Blandy,” said I, “to have brought us these things to look at, but I don’t quite see why you did it. Our interest in the affair ended with the inquest, and I take it that yours did too. Or didn’t it?”
“It did not,” he replied. “We were then making certain inquiries46 through the Irish police, and we have not yet obtained the information that we were seeking. The case is still incomplete.”
“Do you mean,” Thorndyke asked, “that Mr. Haire has not been able to tell you all that you wanted to know?”
“We have not been able to get into touch with Mr. Haire; which is a rather remarkable47 fact, and becomes still more remarkable as the time passes and we get no news of him.”
“In effect, then,” said Thorndyke, “Mr. Haire has disappeared. Have you taken any special measures to trace him? ”
“We have taken such measures as were possible,” replied Blandy. “But we are in a difficult position. We have no reliable description of the man, and, if we had, we could hardly proceed as if we were trying to trace a ‘wanted’ man. It is curious that he should not have turned up in his usual places of resort, but there is nothing incriminating in the fact. We have no reason to suppose that he is keeping out of sight. There is nothing against him. No one could suspect him of having had any hand in starting the fire, as he was not there and another man was. But still, it is a little mysterious. It makes one wonder whether there could have been something that we overlooked.”
“Yes,” Thorndyke agreed, “there does certainly seem to be something a little queer about the affair. As I understand it, Haire went away with the stated intention of making a short visit to Dublin. He was known to have arrived there on a certain day and to have made two calls at a business house. He is said to have announced his intention to go on to Belfast, but it is not known whether he did, in fact, go there. Nothing at all is known as to his movements after he had left the dealer’s premises48. From that moment, no one, so far as we know, ever saw him again. Isn’t that the position?”
“That is the position exactly, sir,” replied Blandy, “and a very curious position it is if we remember that Haire was a man engaged in business in London and having a set of rooms there containing his household goods and personal effects.”
“Before the fire,” I remarked. “There wasn’t much left of either after the flare49 up. He hadn’t any home then to come back to.”
“But, sir,” Blandy objected, “what reason is there for supposing that he knew anything about the fire? He was somewhere in Ireland when it happened. But a fire in a London by-street isn’t likely to be reported in the Irish papers.”
“No,” I admitted, “that is true; and it only makes the affair still more queer.”
There was a short silence. Then Thorndyke raised a fresh question. “By the way, Inspector,” said he, “there was a legal notice in The Times a few days ago referring to a certain Moxdale deceased. Did you happen to observe it?”
“Yes, my attention was called to it by one of my colleagues, and, on the chance that there might be some connection with the other Moxdale deceased, I called on the solicitors50 to make a few enquiries. They are quite a respectable firm — Home, Croner, and Home of Lincoln’s Inn — and they were as helpful as they could be, but they didn’t know much about the parties. The testator, Harold Moxdale, was an old gentleman, practically a stranger to them, and the other parties were nothing more than names. However, I learned that the principal beneficiary was the testator’s nephew, Cecil Moxdale, and that, if he had not had the misfortune to be burned, he would have inherited a sum of about four thousand pounds.”
“It is possible,” I suggested, “that it may not be the same Cecil Moxdale. You say that they did not know anything about him. Did you try to fix the identity?”
“It wasn’t necessary,” replied Blandy, “for the next beneficiary was another nephew named Gustavus Haire; and as we knew that Haire and Moxdale were cousins, that settled the identity.”
As Blandy gave this explanation, his habitual51 smile became tinged52 with a suggestion of foxiness, and I noticed that he was furtively53 watching Thorndyke to see how he took it. But there was no need, for my colleague made no secret of his interest.
“Did you learn whether these two bequests54 were in any way mutually dependent?” he asked.
Blandy beamed on him almost affectionately. It was evident that Thorndyke’s reactions were those that had been desired.
“A very pertinent55 question, sir,” he replied. “Yes, the two bequests were mutually contingent56. The entire sum to be divided between the two nephews was about six thousand pounds. Of this, four thousand went to Cecil and two thousand to Gustavus. But it was provided that if either of them should predecease the testator, the whole amount should go the survivor57.”
“My word, Blandy!” I exclaimed. “This puts quite a new complexion58 on the affair. As Harold Moxdale died, if I remember rightly, on the 30th of April, and Cecil died on the 19th of the same month, it follows that the fire in Billington Street was worth four thousand pounds to Mr. Gustavus Haire. A decidedly illuminating59 fact.”
Blandy turned his benign60 smile on me. “Do you find it illuminating, sir?” said he. “If you do, I wish you would reflect a few stray beams on me.”
Thorndyke chuckled61, softly. “I am afraid, Jervis,” said he, “that the inspector is right. This new fact is profoundly interesting — even rather startling. But it throws no light whatever on the problem.”
“It establishes a motive62,” I retorted.
“But what is the use of that?” he demanded. “You, as a lawyer, know that proof of a motive to do some act is no evidence, by itself, that the person who had the motive did the act. Haire, as you imply, had a motive for making away with Moxdale. But before you could even suggest that he did actually make away with him, you would have to prove that he had the opportunity and the intention; and even that would carry you no farther than suspicion. To support a charge, there would have to be some positive evidence that the act was committed.”
“Exactly, sir,” said Blandy; “and the position is that we have not a particle of evidence that Haire had any intention of murdering his cousin, and there is clear evidence that he had no opportunity. When the fire broke out, he was in Ireland and had been there five days. That is, for practical purposes, an absolutely conclusive63 alibi64.”
“But,” I persisted, “aren’t there such things as time-fuses or other timing65 appliances?”
Blandy shook his head. “Not in a case like this,” he replied. “Of course, we have considered that question, but there is nothing in it. In the case of a man who wants to set fire to a lock-up shop or empty premises, it is possible to use some such appliance — a time-fuse, or a candle set on some inflammable material, or an alarm clock — to give him time to show himself a few miles away and establish an alibi; and even then the firemen usually spot it. But here you have a flat, with somebody living in it, and the owner of that flat on the other side of the Irish Channel, where he had arrived five days before the fire broke out.
“No, sir, I don’t think Mr. Haire is under any suspicion of having raised the fire. The thing is a physical impossibility. And I don’t know of any other respect in which he is under suspicion. It is odd that we can’t discover his whereabouts, but there is really nothing suspicious in it. There is no reason why he should let anyone know where he is.”
I did not contest this, though my feeling was that Haire was purposely keeping out of sight, and I suspected that Blandy secretly took the same view. But the inspector was such an exceedingly downy bird that it was advisable not to say too much. However, I now understood — or thought I did — why he had made this pretext66 to call on us; he was at a dead end and hoped to interest Thorndyke in the case and thereby67 get a lead of some kind. And now, having sprung his mine, he reverted68 to the ostensible69 object of his visit.
“As to this salvage70 stuff,” said he. “Would you like me to leave these small things for you to look over?”
I expected Thorndyke to decline the offer, for there was no mystery about the things, and they were no affair of ours in any case. But, to my surprise, he accepted, and, having checked the list, signed the receipt which Blandy had written out.
“And as to the stuff in the box; perhaps Mr. Polton might show my man where to put it.”
At this, Polton, who had been calmly examining and sorting the test-slides during the discussion (to which I have no doubt he had given close attention), rose and suggested that the box should be deposited in the laboratory in the first place; and when Thorndyke had agreed, he departed to superintend the removal.
“I am afraid,” said Blandy, “that you will find nothing but rubbish in that box. That, at least, is what it appeared like to me. But, having studied some of your cases, I have been deeply impressed by your power of extracting information from the most unpromising material, and it is possible that these things may mean more to you than they do to me.”
“It is not very likely,” Thorndyke replied. “You appear to have extracted from them all the information that one could expect. They have conveyed to you the fact that Cecil Moxdale was apparently the occupant of the rooms at the time of the fire, and that is probably all that they had to tell.”
“It is all they had to tell me,” said Blandy, rising and picking up his attaché-case, “and it is not all that I want to know. There is still the problem of how the fire started, and they throw no light on that at all.”
“You have got the clay pipe,” I suggested. “Doesn’t that tell the story?
He smiled at me with amiable71 reproach as he replied:
“We don’t want the material for plausible72 guesses. We want facts, or at least a leading hint of some kind, and I still have hopes that you may hit on something suggestive.”
“You are more optimistic than I am,” replied Thorndyke; “but I shall look over the material that you have brought, and, if it should yield any facts that are not already known to you, I promise to let you have them without delay.”
Blandy brightened up appreciably73 at this, and, as he turned to depart, he expressed his gratitude74 in characteristic terms.
“That, sir, is most generous of you. It sends me on my way rejoicing in the consciousness that my puny75 intelligence is to be reinforced by your powerful intellect and your encyclopaedic knowledge. I thank you, gentlemen, for your kindly76 reception of an intruder and a disturber of your erudite activities, and I wish you a very good evening.”
With this, the inspector took his departure, leaving us both a little overpowered by his magniloquence and me a little surprised by Thorndyke’s promise which had evoked77 it.
点击收听单词发音
1 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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2 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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3 wary | |
adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
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4 redundant | |
adj.多余的,过剩的;(食物)丰富的;被解雇的 | |
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5 obsolete | |
adj.已废弃的,过时的 | |
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6 kin | |
n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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7 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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8 negligence | |
n.疏忽,玩忽,粗心大意 | |
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9 tenant | |
n.承租人;房客;佃户;v.租借,租用 | |
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10 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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11 intentionally | |
ad.故意地,有意地 | |
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12 hearsay | |
n.谣传,风闻 | |
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13 creditors | |
n.债权人,债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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14 specified | |
adj.特定的 | |
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15 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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16 dab | |
v.轻触,轻拍,轻涂;n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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17 inspector | |
n.检查员,监察员,视察员 | |
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18 revival | |
n.复兴,复苏,(精力、活力等的)重振 | |
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19 politic | |
adj.有智虑的;精明的;v.从政 | |
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20 specimens | |
n.样品( specimen的名词复数 );范例;(化验的)抽样;某种类型的人 | |
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21 unfamiliar | |
adj.陌生的,不熟悉的 | |
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22 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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23 suavity | |
n.温和;殷勤 | |
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24 inquisitive | |
adj.求知欲强的,好奇的,好寻根究底的 | |
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25 disturbance | |
n.动乱,骚动;打扰,干扰;(身心)失调 | |
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26 improperly | |
不正确地,不适当地 | |
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27 tardy | |
adj.缓慢的,迟缓的 | |
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28 amends | |
n. 赔偿 | |
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29 investigations | |
(正式的)调查( investigation的名词复数 ); 侦查; 科学研究; 学术研究 | |
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30 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
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31 knuckles | |
n.(指人)指关节( knuckle的名词复数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝v.(指人)指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝 | |
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32 retrieved | |
v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 );恢复;寻回;检索(储存的信息) | |
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33 debris | |
n.瓦砾堆,废墟,碎片 | |
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34 horrified | |
a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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35 impulsive | |
adj.冲动的,刺激的;有推动力的 | |
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36 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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37 omission | |
n.省略,删节;遗漏或省略的事物,冗长 | |
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38 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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39 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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40 wards | |
区( ward的名词复数 ); 病房; 受监护的未成年者; 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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41 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
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42 benediction | |
n.祝福;恩赐 | |
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43 withheld | |
withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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44 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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45 transpire | |
v.(使)蒸发,(使)排出 ;泄露,公开 | |
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46 inquiries | |
n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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47 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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48 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
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49 flare | |
v.闪耀,闪烁;n.潮红;突发 | |
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50 solicitors | |
初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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51 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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52 tinged | |
v.(使)发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53 furtively | |
adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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54 bequests | |
n.遗赠( bequest的名词复数 );遗产,遗赠物 | |
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55 pertinent | |
adj.恰当的;贴切的;中肯的;有关的;相干的 | |
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56 contingent | |
adj.视条件而定的;n.一组,代表团,分遣队 | |
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57 survivor | |
n.生存者,残存者,幸存者 | |
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58 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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59 illuminating | |
a.富于启发性的,有助阐明的 | |
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60 benign | |
adj.善良的,慈祥的;良性的,无危险的 | |
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61 chuckled | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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63 conclusive | |
adj.最后的,结论的;确凿的,消除怀疑的 | |
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64 alibi | |
n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明;借口 | |
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65 timing | |
n.时间安排,时间选择 | |
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66 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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67 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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68 reverted | |
恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 ); 重提; 回到…上; 归还 | |
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69 ostensible | |
adj.(指理由)表面的,假装的 | |
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70 salvage | |
v.救助,营救,援救;n.救助,营救 | |
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71 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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72 plausible | |
adj.似真实的,似乎有理的,似乎可信的 | |
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73 appreciably | |
adv.相当大地 | |
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74 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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75 puny | |
adj.微不足道的,弱小的 | |
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76 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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77 evoked | |
[医]诱发的 | |
参考例句: |
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