“Oh, God!” whispered Smith.
In all my surgical6 experience I had never met with anything quite so horrible. Forsyth’s livid face was streaked7 with tiny streams of blood, which proceeded from a series of irregular wounds. One group of these clustered upon his left temple, another beneath his right eye, and others extended from the chin down to the throat. They were black, almost like tattoo8 marks, and the entire injured surface was bloated indescribably. His fists were clenched9; he was quite rigid10.
Smith’s piercing eyes were set upon me eloquently11 as I knelt on the path and made my examination—an examination which that first glimpse when Forsyth came staggering out from the trees had rendered useless—a mere12 matter of form.
“He’s quite dead, Smith,” I said huskily. “It’s—unnatural—it—”
Smith began beating his fist into his left palm and taking little, short, nervous strides up and down beside the dead man. I could hear a car humming along the highroad, but I remained there on my knees staring dully at the disfigured bloody13 face which but a matter of minutes since had been that of a clean looking British seaman14. I found myself contrasting his neat, squarely trimmed mustache with the bloated face above it, and counting the little drops of blood which trembled upon its edge. There were footsteps approaching. I stood up. The footsteps quickened; and I turned as a constable15 ran up.
“What’s this?” he demanded gruffly, and stood with his fists clenched, looking from Smith to me and down at that which lay between us. Then his hand flew to his breast; there was a silvern gleam and—
“drop that whistle!” snapped Smith—and struck it from the man’s hand. “Where’s your lantern? Don’t ask questions!”
The constable started back and was evidently debating upon his chances with the two of us, when my friend pulled a letter from his pocket and thrust it under the man’s nose.
“Read that!” he directed harshly, “and then listen to my orders.”
There was something in his voice which changed the officer’s opinion of the situation. He directed the light of his lantern upon the open letter and seemed to be stricken with wonder.
“If you have any doubts,” continued Smith—“you may not be familiar with the Commissioner16’s signature—you have only to ring up Scotland Yard from Dr. Petrie’s house, to which we shall now return, to disperse17 them.” He pointed18 to Forsyth. “Help us to carry him there. We must not be seen; this must be hushed up. You understand? It must not get into the press—”
The man saluted19 respectfully; and the three of us addressed ourselves to the mournful task. By slow stages we bore the dead man to the edge of the common, carried him across the road and into my house, without exciting attention even on the part of those vagrants21 who nightly slept out in the neighborhood.
We laid our burden upon the surgery table.
“You will want to make an examination, Petrie,” said Smith in his decisive way, “and the officer here might ‘phone for the ambulance. I have some investigations22 to make also. I must have the pocket lamp.”
He raced upstairs to his room, and an instant later came running down again. The front door banged.
“The telephone is in the hall,” I said to the constable.
“Thank you, sir.”
He went out of the surgery as I switched on the lamp over the table and began to examine the marks upon Forsyth’s skin. These, as I have said, were in groups and nearly all in the form of elongated23 punctures24; a fairly deep incision25 with a pear-shaped and superficial scratch beneath it. One of the tiny wounds had penetrated26 the right eye.
The symptoms, or those which I had been enabled to observe as Forsyth had first staggered into view from among the elms, were most puzzling. Clearly enough, the muscles of articulation27 and the respiratory muscles had been affected28; and now the livid face, dotted over with tiny wounds (they were also on the throat), set me mentally groping for a clue to the manner of his death.
No clue presented itself; and my detailed29 examination of the body availed me nothing. The gray herald30 of dawn was come when the police arrived with the ambulance and took Forsyth away.
I was just taking my cap from the rack when Nayland Smith returned.
“Smith!” I cried—“have you found anything?”
He stood there in the gray light of the hallway, tugging31 at the lobe32 of his left ear, an old trick of his.
The bronzed face looked very gaunt, I thought, and his eyes were bright with that febrile glitter which once I had disliked, but which I had learned from experience were due to tremendous nervous excitement. At such times he could act with icy coolness and his mental faculties33 seemed temporarily to acquire an abnormal keenness. He made no direct reply; but—
So wholly unexpected was the question, that for a moment I failed to grasp it. Then—
“Milk!” I began.
“Exactly, Petrie! If you can find me some milk, I shall be obliged.”
“The remains36 of the turbot from dinner, Petrie, would also be welcome, and I think I should like a trowel.”
I stopped at the stairhead and faced him.
“I cannot suppose that you are joking, Smith,” I said, “but—”
He laughed dryly.
“Forgive me, old man,” he replied. “I was so preoccupied37 with my own train of thought that it never occurred to me how absurd my request must have sounded. I will explain my singular tastes later; at the moment, hustle38 is the watchword.”
Evidently he was in earnest, and I ran downstairs accordingly, returning with a garden trowel, a plate of cold fish and a glass of milk.
I was past wondering, so I simply went and fetched a jug, into which he poured the milk. Then, with the trowel in his pocket, the plate of cold turbot in one hand and the milk jug in the other, he made for the door. He had it open when another idea evidently occurred to him.
“I’ll trouble you for the pistol, Petrie.”
I handed him the pistol without a word.
“Don’t assume that I want to mystify you,” he added, “but the presence of any one else might jeopardize40 my plan. I don’t expect to be long.”
The cold light of dawn flooded the hallway momentarily; then the door closed again and I went upstairs to my study, watching Nayland Smith as he strode across the common in the early morning mist. He was making for the Nine Elms, but I lost sight of him before he reached them.
I sat there for some time, watching for the first glow of sunrise. A policeman tramped past the house, and, a while later, a belated reveler in evening clothes. That sense of unreality assailed42 me again. Out there in the gray mists a man who was vested with powers which rendered him a law unto himself, who had the British Government behind him in all that he might choose to do, who had been summoned from Rangoon to London on singular and dangerous business, was employing himself with a plate of cold turbot, a jug of milk, and a trowel!
Away to the right, and just barely visible, a tramcar stopped by the common; then proceeded on its way, coming in a westerly direction. Its lights twinkled yellowly through the grayness, but I was less concerned with the approaching car than with the solitary43 traveler who had descended44 from it.
As the car went rocking by below me, I strained my eyes in an endeavor more clearly to discern the figure, which, leaving the highroad, had struck out across the common. It was that of a woman, who seemingly carried a bulky bag or parcel.
One must be a gross materialist45 to doubt that there are latent powers in man which man, in modern times, neglects, or knows not how to develop. I became suddenly conscious of a burning curiosity respecting this lonely traveler who traveled at an hour so strange. With no definite plan in mind, I went downstairs, took a cap from the rack, and walked briskly out of the house and across the common in a direction which I thought would enable me to head off the woman.
I had slightly miscalculated the distance, as Fate would have it, and with a patch of gorse effectually screening my approach, I came upon her, kneeling on the damp grass and unfastening the bundle which had attracted my attention. I stopped and watched her.
She was dressed in bedraggled fashion in rusty46 black, wore a common black straw hat and a thick veil; but it seemed to me that the dexterous47 hands at work untying48 the bundle were slim and white; and I perceived a pair of hideous49 cotton gloves lying on the turf beside her. As she threw open the wrappings and lifted out something that looked like a small shrimping net, I stepped around the bush, crossed silently the intervening patch of grass, and stood beside her.
A faint breath of perfume reached me—of a perfume which, like the secret incense50 of Ancient Egypt, seemed to assail41 my soul. The glamour51 of the Orient was in that subtle essence; and I only knew one woman who used it. I bent over the kneeling figure.
“Good morning,” I said; “can I assist you in any way?”
She came to her feet like a startled deer, and flung away from me with the lithe52 movement of some Eastern dancing girl.
Now came the sun, and its heralding53 rays struck sparks from the jewels upon the white fingers of this woman who wore the garments of a mendicant54. My heart gave a great leap. It was with difficulty that I controlled my voice.
“There is no cause for alarm,” I added.
She stood watching me; even through the coarse veil I could see how her eyes glittered. I stooped and picked up the net.
“Oh!” The whispered word was scarcely audible, but it was enough; I doubted no longer.
With a passionate56 gesture Karamaneh snatched off the veil, and with it the ugly black hat. The cloud of wonderful, intractable hair came rumpling57 about her face, and her glorious eyes blazed out upon me. How beautiful they were, with the dark beauty of an Egyptian night; how often had they looked into mine in dreams!
To labor58 against a ceaseless yearning59 for a woman whom one knows, upon evidence that none but a fool might reject, to be worthless—evil; is there any torture to which the soul of man is subject, more pitiless? Yet this was my lot, for what past sins assigned to me I was unable to conjecture60; and this was the woman, this lovely slave of a monster, this creature of Dr. Fu-Manchu.
“I suppose you will declare that you do not know me!” I said harshly.
Her lips trembled, but she made no reply.
“It is very convenient to forget, sometimes,” I ran on bitterly, then checked myself; for I knew that my words were prompted by a feckless desire to hear her defense61, by a fool’s hope that it might be an acceptable one.
I looked again at the net contrivance in my hand; it had a strong spring fitted to it and a line attached. Quite obviously it was intended for snaring.
“What were you about to do?” I demanded sharply—but in my heart, poor fool that I was, I found admiration62 for the exquisite63 arch of Karamaneh’s lips, and reproach because they were so tremulous.
“Dr. Petrie—”
“Well?”
“You seem to be—angry with me, not so much because of what I do, as because I do not remember you. Yet—”
“Kindly do not revert65 to the matter,” I interrupted. “You have chosen, very conveniently, to forget that once we were friends. Please yourself. But answer my question.”
She clasped her hands with a sort of wild abandon.
“Why do you treat me so!” she cried; she had the most fascinating accent imaginable. “Throw me into prison, kill me if you like, for what I have done!” She stamped her foot. “For what I have done! But do not torture me, try to drive me mad with your reproaches—that I forget you! I tell you—again I tell you—that until you came one night, last week, to rescue some one from—” There was the old trick of hesitating before the name of Fu-Manchu—“from him, I had never, never seen you!”
The dark eyes looked into mine, afire with a positive hunger for belief—or so I was sorely tempted66 to suppose. But the facts were against her.
“Such a declaration is worthless,” I said, as coldly as I could. “You are a traitress; you betray those who are mad enough to trust you—”
“I am no traitress!” she blazed at me; her eyes were magnificent.
“This is mere nonsense. You think that it will pay you better to serve Fu-Manchu than to remain true to your friends. Your ‘slavery’—for I take it you are posing as a slave again—is evidently not very harsh. You serve Fu-Manchu, lure67 men to their destruction, and in return he loads you with jewels, lavishes68 gifts—”
“Ah! so!”
She sprang forward, raising flaming eyes to mine; her lips were slightly parted. With that wild abandon which betrayed the desert blood in her veins69, she wrenched70 open the neck of her bodice and slipped a soft shoulder free of the garment. She twisted around, so that the white skin was but inches removed from me.
“These are some of the gifts that he lavishes upon me!”
I clenched my teeth. Insane thoughts flooded my mind. For that creamy skin was red with the marks of the lash71!
She turned, quickly rearranging her dress, and watching me the while. I could not trust myself to speak for a moment, then:
“If I am a stranger to you, as you claim, why do you give me your confidence?” I asked.
“I have known you long enough to trust you!” she said simply, and turned her head aside.
She snapped her fingers oddly, and looked up at me from under her lashes73. “Why do you question me if you think that everything I say is a lie?”
It was a lesson in logic—from a woman! I changed the subject.
“Tell me what you came here to do,” I demanded.
She pointed to the net in my hands.
“To catch birds; you have said so yourself.”
“What bird?”
And now a memory was born within my brain; it was that of the cry of the nighthawk which had harbingered the death of Forsyth! The net was a large and strong one; could it be that some horrible fowl75 of the air—some creature unknown to Western naturalists—had been released upon the common last night? I thought of the marks upon Forsyth’s face and throat; I thought of the profound knowledge of obscure and dreadful things possessed76 by the Chinaman.
The wrapping, in which the net had been, lay at my feet. I stooped and took out from it a wicker basket. Karamaneh stood watching me and biting her lip, but she made no move to check me. I opened the basket. It contained a large phial, the contents of which possessed a pungent77 and peculiar78 smell.
“You will have to accompany me to my house,” I said sternly.
Karamaneh upturned her great eyes to mine. They were wide with fear. She was on the point of speaking when I extended my hand to grasp her. At that, the look of fear was gone and one of rebellion held its place. Ere I had time to realize her purpose, she flung back from me with that wild grace which I had met with in no other woman, turned and ran!
Fatuously80, net and basket in hand, I stood looking after her. The idea of pursuit came to me certainly; but I doubted if I could have outrun her. For Karamaneh ran, not like a girl used to town or even country life, but with the lightness and swiftness of a gazelle; ran like the daughter of the desert that she was.
Some two hundred yards she went, stopped, and looked back. It would seem that the sheer joy of physical effort had aroused the devil in her, the devil that must lie latent in every woman with eyes like the eyes of Karamaneh.
In the ever brightening sunlight I could see the lithe figure swaying; no rags imaginable could mask its beauty. I could see the red lips and gleaming teeth. Then—and it was music good to hear, despite its taunt—she laughed defiantly81, turned, and ran again!
I resigned myself to defeat; I blush to add, gladly! Some evidences of a world awakening82 were perceptible about me now. Feathered choirs83 hailed the new day joyously84. Carrying the mysterious contrivance which I had captured from the enemy, I set out in the direction of my house, my mind very busy with conjectures85 respecting the link between this bird snare86 and the cry like that of a nighthawk which we had heard at the moment of Forsyth’s death.
The path that I had chosen led me around the border of the Mound87 Pond—a small pool having an islet in the center. Lying at the margin88 of the pond I was amazed to see the plate and jug which Nayland Smith had borrowed recently!
Dropping my burden, I walked down to the edge of the water. I was filled with a sudden apprehension89. Then, as I bent to pick up the now empty jug, came a hail:
“All right, Petrie! Shall join you in a moment!”
I started up, looked to right and left; but, although the voice had been that of Nayland Smith, no sign could I discern of his presence!
“Smith!” I cried—“Smith!”
“Coming!”
Seriously doubting my senses, I looked in the direction from which the voice had seemed to proceed—and there was Nayland Smith.
He stood on the islet in the center of the pond, and, as I perceived him, he walked down into the shallow water and waded90 across to me!
“Good heavens!” I began—
One of his rare laughs interrupted me.
“You must think me mad this morning, Petrie!” he said. “But I have made several discoveries. Do you know what that islet in the pond really is?”
“Merely an islet, I suppose—”
“Nothing of the kind; it is a burial mound, Petrie! It marks the site of one of the Plague Pits where victims were buried during the Great Plague of London. You will observe that, although you have seen it every morning for some years, it remains for a British Commissioner resident in Burma to acquaint you with its history! Hullo!”—the laughter was gone from his eyes, and they were steely hard again—“what the blazes have we here!”
He picked up the net. “What! a bird trap!”
“Exactly!” I said.
Smith turned his searching gaze upon me. “Where did you find it, Petrie?”
“I did not exactly find it,” I replied; and I related to him the circumstances of my meeting with Karamaneh.
He directed that cold stare upon me throughout the narrative91, and when, with some embarrassment92, I had told him of the girl’s escape—
“Petrie,” he said succinctly93, “you are an imbecile!”
I flushed with anger, for not even from Nayland Smith, whom I esteemed94 above all other men, could I accept such words uttered as he had uttered them. We glared at one another.
“Karamaneh,” he continued coldly, “is a beautiful toy, I grant you; but so is a cobra. Neither is suitable for playful purposes.”
“Smith!” I cried hotly—“drop that! Adopt another tone or I cannot listen to you!”
“You must listen,” he said, squaring his lean jaw95 truculently96. “You are playing, not only with a pretty girl who is the favorite of a Chinese Nero, but with my life! And I object, Petrie, on purely97 personal grounds!”
I felt my anger oozing98 from me; for this was strictly99 just. I had nothing to say, and Smith continued:
“You know that she is utterly false, yet a glance or two from those dark eyes of hers can make a fool of you! A woman made a fool of me, once; but I learned my lesson; you have failed to learn yours. If you are determined100 to go to pieces on the rock that broke up Adam, do so! But don’t involve me in the wreck101, Petrie—for that might mean a yellow emperor of the world, and you know it!”
“Your words are unnecessarily brutal102, Smith,” I said, feeling very crestfallen103, “but there—perhaps I fully20 deserve them all.”
“You do!” he assured me, but he relaxed immediately. “A murderous attempt is made upon my life, resulting in the death of a perfectly104 innocent man in no way concerned. Along you come and let an accomplice105, perhaps a participant, escape, merely, because she has a red mouth, or black lashes, or whatever it is that fascinates you so hopelessly!”
“Ah!” he snapped, “do you recognize this odor?”
“Certainly.”
“Nothing of the kind!”
Smith shrugged his shoulders.
“Come along, Petrie,” he said, linking his arm in mine.
We proceeded. Many questions there were that I wanted to put to him, but one above all.
“Smith,” I said, “what, in Heaven’s name, were you doing on the mound? Digging something up?”
“No,” he replied, smiling dryly; “burying something!”
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1
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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wanly
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| adv.虚弱地；苍白地，无血色地 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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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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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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vagrants
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| 流浪者( vagrant的名词复数 )； 无业游民； 乞丐； 无赖 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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elongated
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| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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punctures
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| n.（尖物刺成的）小孔( puncture的名词复数 )；（尤指）轮胎穿孔；（尤指皮肤上被刺破的）扎孔；刺伤v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的第三人称单数 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
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incision
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| n．切口，切开 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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articulation
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| n.（清楚的）发音；清晰度，咬合 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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lobe
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| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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jeopardize
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| vt.危及，损害 | |
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assail
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| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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materialist
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| n. 唯物主义者 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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48
untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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49
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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50
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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51
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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52
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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53
heralding
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| v.预示( herald的现在分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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54
mendicant
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| n.乞丐；adj.行乞的 | |
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55
snaring
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| v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的现在分词 ) | |
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56
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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57
rumpling
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的现在分词 ) | |
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58
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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59
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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61
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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62
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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63
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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64
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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65
revert
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| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
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66
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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67
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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68
lavishes
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的第三人称单数 ) | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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71
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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73
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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74
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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75
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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fatuously
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| adv.愚昧地，昏庸地，蠢地 | |
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81
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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82
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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83
choirs
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| n.教堂的唱诗班( choir的名词复数 )；唱诗队；公开表演的合唱团；（教堂）唱经楼 | |
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84
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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85
conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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86
snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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87
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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88
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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89
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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90
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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92
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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94
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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95
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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96
truculently
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97
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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98
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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99
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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100
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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101
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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102
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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103
crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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104
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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105
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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106
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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107
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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