'Mrs Pengelley,' announced our landlady1, and withdrew discreetly2.
Many unlikely people came to consult Poirot, but to my mind, the woman who stood nervouslyjust inside the door, fingering her feather neck-piece, was the most unlikely of all. She was soextraordinarily commonplace - a thin, faded woman of about fifty, dressed in a braided coat andskirt, some gold jewellery at her neck, and with her grey hair surmounted3 by a singularlyunbecoming hat. In a country town, you pass a hundred Mrs Pengelleys in the street every day.
Poirot came forward and greeted her pleasantly, perceiving her obvious embarrassment4.
'Madamel Take a chair, I beg of you. My colleague, Captain Hastings.' The lady sat down,murmuring uncertainly: 'You are M.
Poirot, the detective?' 'At your service, madame.' But our guest was still tongue-tied. She sighed,twisted her fingers, and grew steadily5 redder and redder.
'There is something I can do for you, eh, madame?' 'Well, I thought - that is - you see - ' 'Proceed,madame, I beg of you - proceed.' Mrs Pengelley, thus encouraged, took a grip on herself.
'It's this way, M. Poirot - I don't want to have anything to do with the police. No, I wouldn't go tothe police for anythingl But all the same, I'm sorely troubled about something. And yet I don'tknow if I ought - ' She stopped abruptly6.
The, I have nothing to do with the police. My investigations7 are strictly8 private.'
Mrs Pengelley caught at the word.
'Private - that's what I want. I don't want any talk or fuss, or things in the papers. Wicked it is, theway they write things, until the family could never hold up their heads again. And it isn't as thoughI was even sure - it's just a dreadful idea that's come to me, and put it out of my head I can't.' Shepaused for breath. 'And all the time I may be wickedly wronging poor Edward. It's a terriblethought for any wife to have. But you do read of such dreadful things nowadays.'
'Permit me - it is of your husband you speak?'
'Yes.'
'And you suspect him of- what?'
'I don't like even to say it, M. Poirot. But you do read of such things happening - and the poorsouls suspecting nothing.'
I was beginning to despair of the lady's ever coming to the point, but Poirot's patience was equal tothe demand made upon it.
'Speak without fear, madame. Think what joy will be yours if we are able to prove your suspicionsunfounded.'
'That's true - anything's better than this wearing uncertainty9.
Oh, M. Poirot, I'm dreadfully afraid I'm being poisoned.'
'What makes you think so?'
Mrs Pengelley, her reticence10 leaving her, plunged11 into a full recital12 more suited to the ears of hermedical attendant.
'Pain and sickness after food, eh?' said Poirot thoughtfully.
'You have a doctor attending you, madame? What does he say?'
'He says it's acute gastritis, M. Poirot. But I can see that he's puzzled and uneasy, and he's alwaysaltering the medicine, but nothing does any good.'
'You have spoken of your - fears, to him?'
'No, indeed, M. Poirot. It might get about in the town. And perhaps it/s gastritis. All the same, it'svery odd that whenever Edward is away for the week-end, I'm quite all right again. Even Fredanoticed that - my niece, M. Poirot. And then there's that bottle of weed-killer, never used, thegardener says, and yet it's half-empty.'
She looked appealingly at Poirot. He smiled reassuringly14 at her, and reached for a pencil andnotebook.
'Let us be businesslike, madame. Now, then, you and your husband reside - where?' 'Polgarwith, asmall market town in Cornwall.' 'You have lived there long?' 'Fourteen years.' 'And yourhousehold consists of you and your husband. Any children?' 'NO,' 'But a niece, I think you said?'
'Yes, Freda Stanton, the child of my husband's only sister. She has lived with us for the iast eightyears - that is, until a week go.' 'Oho, and what happened a week ago?' 'Things hadn't been verypleasant for some time; I don't know what had come over Freda. She was so rude and impertinent,and her temper something shocking, and in the end she flared15 up one day, and out she walked andtook rooms of her own in the town. I've not seen her since. Better leave her to come to her senses,so Mr Radnor says.' 'Who is Mr Radnor?' Some of Mrs Pengelley's initial embarrassment returned.
'Oh, he's - he's just a friend. Very pleasant young fellow.' 'Anything between him and your niece?'
'Nothing whatever,' said Mrs Pengelley emphatically.
Poirot shifted his ground.
'You and your husband are, I presume, in comfortable circumstances?' 'Yes, we're very nicely off.'
'The money, is it yours or your husband's?' 'Oh, it's all IF. dward's. I've nothing of my own.' 'Yousee, madame, to be businesslike, we must be brutal16. We must seek for a motive17. Your husband, hewould not poison you just pour passer ]e temps[ Do you know of any reason why he should wishyou out of the way?' There's the yellow-haired hussy who works for Him,' saidMrs Pengelley, with a flash of temper. 'My husband's a dentist, M. Poirot, and nothing would dobut he must have a smart girl, as he said, with bobbed hair and a white overall, to make hisappointments and mix his fillings for him. It's come to my ears that there have been fine goings-on,though of course he swears it's all right.'
'This bottle of weed-killer, madame, who ordered it?'
'My husband - about a year ago.'
'Your niece, now, has she any money of her own?'
'About fifty pounds a year, I should say. She'd be glad enough to come back and keep house forEdward if I left him.'
'You have contemplated18 leaving him, then?'
'I don't intend to let him have it all his own way. Women aren't the downtrodden slaves they werein old days, M. Poirot.'
'I congratulate you on YOur independent spirit, madame; but let us be practical. You return toPolgarwith today?'
'Yes, I came up by an excursion. Six this morning the train started, and the train goes back at fivethis afternoon.'
'Bienl I have nothing of great moment on hand. I can devote myself to your little affair. TomorrowI shall be in Polgarwith.
Shall we say that Hastings, here, is a distant relative of yours, the son of your second cousin? Me,I am his eccentric foreign friend. In the meantime, eat only what is prepared by your own hands,or under your eye. You have a maid whom you trust?'
'Jessie is a very good girl, I am sure.'
'Till tomorrow then, madame, and be of good courage.'
Poirot bowed the lady out, and returned thoughtfully to his chair.
His absorption was not so great, however, that he failed to see two minute strands19 of feather scarfwrenched off by the lady's agitated20 fingers. He collected them carefully and consigned21 them to thewastepaper basket.
'What do you make of the case, Hastings?'
'A nasty business, I should say.'
'Yes, if what the lady suspects be true. But is it? Woe22 betide any husband who orders a bottle ofweed-killer nowadays. If his
wife suffers from gastritis, and is inclined to be of a hysterical23 temperament24, the fat is in the fire.'
'You think that is all there is to it?'
'Ah - vo//d - I do not know, Hastings. But the case interests me - it interests me enormously. For,see you, it has positively25 no new features. Hence the hysterical theory, and yet Mrs Pengelley didnot strike me as being a hysterical woman. Yes, if I mistake not, we have here a very poignanthuman drama. Tell me, Hastings, what do you consider Mrs Pengelley's feelings towards herhusband to be?'
'Loyalty26 struggling with fear,' I suggested.
'Yet, ordinarily, a woman will accuse anyone in the world - but not her husband. She will stick toher belief in him through thick and thin.'
'The "other woman" complicates27 the matter.'
'Yes, affection may turn to hate, under the stimulus28 of jealousy29.
But hate would take her to the police - not to me. She would want an outcry - a scandal. No, no, letus exercise our little grey cells.
Why did she come to me? To have her suspicions proved wrong?
Or - to have them proved right? Ah, we have here something I do not understand - an unknownfactor. Is she a superb actress, our Mrs Pengelley? No, she was genuine, I would swear that shewas genuine, and therefore I am interested. Look up the train to ?olgarwith, I pray you.'
The best train of the day was the one-fifty from Paddington which reached Polgarwith just afterseven o'clock. The journey was uneventful, and I had to rouse myself from a pleasant nap to alightupon the platform of the bleak30 little station. We took our bags to the Duchy Hotel, and after a lightmeal, Poirot suggested our stepping round to pay an after-dinner call on my so-called cousin.
The Pengelleys' house stood a little way back from the road with an old-fashioned cottage gardenin front. The smell of stocks and mignonette came sweetly wafted31 on the evening breeze. Itseemed impossible to associate thoughts of violence with this Old World cham. Poirot rang andknocked. As the summons was not
answered, he rang again. This time, after a little pause, the door was opened by a dishevelled-looking servant. Her eyes were red, and she was sniffing32 violently.
'We wish to see Mrs Pengelley,' explained Poirot. 'May we enter?'
The maid stared. Then, with unusual directness, she answered: 'Haven't you heard, then? She'sdead. Died this evening - about half an hour ago.'
We stood staring at her, stunned33.
'What did she die of?' I asked at last.
'There's some as could tell.' She gave a quick glance over her shoulder. 'If it wasn't that somebodyought to be in the house with the missus, I'd pack my box and go tonight. But I'll not leave herdead with no one to watch by her. It's not my place to say anything, and I'm not going to sayanything - but everybody knows. It's all over the town. And if Mr Radnor don't write to the 'OmcSecretary, someone else will. The doctor may say what he likes. Didn't I see the master with myown eyes a-lifting down of the weed-killer from the shelf this very evening? And didn't he jumpwhen he turned round and saw me watching of him? And the missus' gruel34 there on the table, allready to take to her? Not another bit of food passes my lips while I am in this housel Not if I diesfor it.'
'Where does the doctor live who attended your mistress?'
'Dr Adams. Round the corner there in High Street. The second house.'
Poirot turned away abruptly. He was very pale.
'For a girl who was not going to say anything, that girl said a lot,' I remarked dryly.
Poirot struck his clenched35 hand into his palm.
'An imbecile, a criminal imbecile, that is what I have been, Hastings. I have boasted of my littlegrey cells, and now I have lost a human life, a life that came to me tQ be saved. Never did I dreamthat anything would happen so soon. May the good God forgive me, but I never believed anythingwould happen at all.
Her story seemed to me artificial. Here we are at the doctor's.
Let us see what he can tell us.'
Dr Adams was the typical genial36 red-faced country doctor of fiction. He received us politelyenough, but at a hint of our errand, his red face became purple.
'Damned nonsensel Damned nonsense, every word of it! Wasn't I in attendance on the case?
Gastritis - gastritis pure and simple.
This town's a hotbed of gossip - a lot of scandal-mongering old women get together and inventGod knows what. They read these scurrilous37 rags of newspapers, &nd nothing will suit them butthat someone in their town shall get poisoned too. They see a bottle of weed-killer on a shelf - andhey prestol - away goes their imagination with the bit between its teeth. I know Edward Pengelley- he wouldn't poison his grandmother's dog. And why should he poison his wife? Tell me that?'
'There is one thing, M. le Docteur, that perhaps you do not know.' And, very briefly38, Poirotoutlined the main facts of Mrs Pen-gelley's visit to him. No one could have been more astonishedthan Dr Adams. His eyes almost started out of his head.
'God bless my soull' he ejaculated. 'The poor woman must have been mad. Why didn't she speak tome? That was the proper thing to do.' 'And have her fears ridiculed39?' 'Not at all, not at all. I hopeI've got an open mind.' Poirot looked at him and smiled. The physician was evidently moreperturbed than he cared to admit. As we left the house, ?oirot broke into a laugh.
'He is as obstinate40 as a pig, that one. He has said it is gastritis; therefore it is gastritis! All the same,he has the mind uneasy.' 'What's our next step?' 'A return to the inn, and a night of horror upon oneof your English provincial41 beds, mon ami. It is a thing to make pity, the cheap English bed!' 'Andtomorrow?' 'Rich d faire. We must return to town and await developments.' 'That's very tame,' Isaid, disappointed. 'Suppose there are none?'
'There will be! I can promise you that. Our old doctor may give as many certificates as he pleases.
He cannot stop several hundred tongues from wagging. And they will wag to some purpose, I cantell you thaw42
Our train for town left at eleven the following morning. Before we started for the station, Poirotexpressed a wish to see Miss Freda 8tanton, the niece mentioned to us by the dead woman. Wefound the house where she was lodging43 easily enough. With her was a tall, dark young man whomshe introduced in some con-fusion as Mr Jacob Radnor.
Miss Freda Stanton was an extremely pretty girl of the Id Cornish type - dark hair and eyes androsy cheeks. There was a flash in those same dark eyes which told of a temper that it would not bewise to provoke.
'Poor Auntie,' she said, when Poirot had introduced himself, and explained his business. 'It'sterribly sad. I've been wishing all the morning that I'd been kinder and more patient.'
'You stood a great deal, Freda,' interrupted Radnor.
'Yes, Jacob, but I've got a sharp temper, I know. After all, it was only silliness on Auntie's part. Iought to have just laughed and not minded. Of course, it's all nonsense her thinking that Uncle waspoisoning her. She was worse after any food he gave her - but I'm sure it was only from thinkingabout it. She made up her mind she would be, and then she was.'
'What was the actual cause of your disagreement, mademoi-selle?'
Miss Stanton hesitated, looking at Radnor. That young gentle-man was quick to take the hint.
'I must be getting along, Freda. See you this evening. Goodbye, gentlemen; you're on your way tothe station, I suppose?' Poirot replied that we were, and Radnor departed.
'You are affianced, is it not so?' demanded Poirot, with a sly smile.
Freda Stanton blushed and admitted that such was the case.
'And that was really the whole trouble with Auntie,' she added.
'She did not approve of the match for you?'
'Oh, it wasn't that so much. But you see, she - ' The girl came to a stop.
'Yes? encouraged Poirot gently.
'It seems rather a horrid44 thing to say about her - now she's dead.
But you'll never understand unless I tell you. Auntie was absolutely infatuated with Jacob.'
'Indeed?'
'Yes, wasn't it absurd? She was over fifty, and he's not quite thirtyl But there it was. She was sillyabout himt I had to tell her at last that it was me he was after - and she carried on dreadfully.
She wouldn't believe a word of it, and was so rude and insulting that it's no wonder I lost mytemper. I talked it over with Jacob, and we agreed that the best thing to do was for me to clear outfor a bit till she came to her senses. Poor Auntie - I suppose she w in a queer state altogether.'
'It would certainly seem so. Thank you, mademoiselle, for making things so clear to me.'
A little to my surprise, Radnor was waiting for us in the street below.
'I can guess pretty well what Freda has been telling you,' he remarked. 'It was a most unfortunatething to happen, and very awkward for me, as you can imagine. I need hardly say that it w none ofmy doing. I was pleased at first, because I imagined the old woman was helping45 on things withFreda. The whole thing was absurd - but extremely unpleasant.'
'When are you and Miss Stanton going to be married?'
'Soon, I hope. Now, M. Poirot, I'm going to be candid46 with you. I know a bit more than Fredadoes. She believes her uncle to be innocent. I'm not so sure. But I can tell you one thing: I'm goingto keep my mouth shut about what I do know. Let sleeping dogs lie. I don't want my wife's uncletried and hanged for murder.'
'Why do you tell me all this?'
'Because I've heard of you, and I know you're a clever man. It's quite possible that you might ferretout a case against him. But I put it to you - what good is that? The poor woman is past help,and she'd have been the last person to want a scandal - why, she'd turn in her grave at the merethought of it.'
'You are probably right there. You want me to - hush47 it up, then?'
'That's my idea. I'll admit frankly48 that I'm selfish about it.
I've got my way to make - and I'm building up a good little business as a tailor and outfitter.'
'Most of us are selfish, Mr Radnor. Not all of us admit it so freely. I will do what you ask - but Itell you frankly you will not succeed in hushing it up.'
'Why not?'
Poirot held up a finger. It was market day, and we were passing the market - a busy hum camefrom within.
'The voice of the people - that is why, Mr Radnor. Ah, we must run, or we shall miss our train.'
'Very interesting, is it not, Hastings?' said Poirot, as the train steamed out of the station.
He had taken out a small comb from his pocket, also a micro-scopic mirror, and was carefullyarranging his moustache, the symmetry of which had become slightly impaired49 during our briskrun.
'You seem to find it so,' I replied. 'To me, it is all rather sordid50 and unpleasant. There's hardly anymystery about it.'
'I agree with you; there is no mystery whatever.'
'I suppose we can accept the girl's rather extraordinary story of her aunt's infatuation? That seemedthe only fishy51 part to me.
She was such a nice, respectable woman.'
'There is nothing extraordinary about that - it is completely ordinary. If you read the paperscarefully, you will find that often a nice respectable woman of that age leaves a husband she haslived with for twenty years, and sometimes a whole family of children as well, in order to link herlife with that of a young man considerably52 her junior. You admire les femmes, Hastings; youprostrate yourself before all of them who are good-looking and have the good taste to smile uponyou; but psychologically you know nothing whatever about them. In the autumn of a woman's life,there comes always one mad moment when she longs for romance, for adventure - before it is toolate. It comes none the less surely to a woman because she is the wife of a respectable dentist in acountry town?
'And you think ' 'That a clever man might take advantage of such a moment.' 'I shouldn't callPengelley so clever,' I mused53. 'He's got the whole town by the ears. And yet I suppose you're right.
The only two men who know anything, Radnor and the doctor, both want to hush it up. He'smanaged that somehow. I wish we'd seen the fellow.' I'You can indulge your wish. Return by the next train and invent an aching molar.' looked at himkeenly.
II wish I knew what you considered so interesting about the case.' i 'My interest is very aptlysummed up by a remark of yours,
Hastings. After interviewing the maid, you observed that for isomeone who was not going to say a word, she had said a good d ''h!' I said doubtfully; then Iharped back to my original criticism: 'I wonder why you made no attempt to see Pen gelley?'
· 'Mon ami, I give him just three months. Then I shall see himfor as long as I please - in the dock.'
For once I thought Poirot's prognostications were going to be proved wrong. The time went by,and nothing transpired54 as to our Cornish case. Other matters occupied us, and I had nearlyforgotten the Pengelley tragedy when it was suddenly recalled to me by a short paragraph in thepaper which stated that an order to exhume55 the body of Mrs Pengelley had been obtained from theHome Secretary.
A few days later, and 'The Cornish Mystery' was the topic of every paper. It seemed that gossiphad never entirely56 died down, and when the engagement of the widower57 to Miss Marks, hissecretary, was announced, the tongues burst out again louder thanever. Finally a petition was sent to the Home Secretary; the body was exhumed58; large quantities ofarsenic were discovered; and Mr Pengelley was arrested and charged with the murder of his wife.
Poirot and I attended the preliminary proceedings60. The evidence was much as might have beenexpected. Dr Adams admitted that the symptoms of arsenical poisoning might easily be mistakenfor those of gastritis. The Home Office expert gave his evidence; the maid Jessie poured out aflood of voluble information, most of which was rejected, but which certainly strengthened thecase against the prisoner. Freda Stanton gave evidence as to her aunt's being worse whenever sheate food prepared by her husband.
Jacob Radnor told how he had dropped in unexpectedly on the day of Mrs Pengelley's death, andfound Pengelley replacing the bottle of weed-killer on the pantry sheff, Mrs Pengelley's gruelbeing on the table close by. Then Miss Marks, the fair-haired secretary, was called, and wept andwent into hysterics and admitted that there had been 'passages' between her and her employer, andthat he had promised to marry her in the event of anything happening to his wife. Pengelleyreserved his defence and was sent for trial.
Jacob Radnor walked back with us to our lodgings61.
'You see, M. Radnor,' said Poirot, 'I was right. The voice of the people spoke13 - and with nouncertain voice. There was to be no hushing up of this case.' 'You were quite right,' sighed Radnor.
'Do you see any chance of his getting off?' 'Well, he has reserved his defence. He may havesomething up the sleeve, as you English say. Come in with us, will you not?' Radnor accepted theinvitation. I ordered two whiskies and sodas62 and a cup of chocolate. The last order causedconsternation, and I much doubted whether it would ever put in an appearance.
'Of course,' continued Poirot, 'I have a good deal of experience in matters of this kind. And I seeonly one loophole of escape for our friend.'
'What is it?' 'That you should sign this paper.' With the suddenness of a conjuror63, he produced asheet of paper covered with writing.
'What is it?' 'A confession64 that you murdered Mrs Pengelley.' There was a moment's pause; thenRadnor laughed.
'You must be madl' 'No, no, my friend, I am not mad. You came here; you started a little business;you were short of money. Mr Pengelley was a man very well-to-do. You met his niece; she wasinclined to smile upon you. But the small allowance that Pengelley might have given her upon hermarriage was not enough for you. You must get rid of both the uncle and the aunt; then the moneywould come to her, since she was the only relative. How cleverly you set about it! You made loveto that plain middle-aged65 woman until she was your slave. You implanted in her doubts of herhusband.
She discovered first that he was deceiving her - then, under your guidance, that he was trying topoison her. You were often at the house; you had opportunities to introduce the arsenic59 into herfood. But you were careful never to do so when her husband was away. Being a woman, she didnot keep her suspicions to herself.
She talked to her niece; doubtless she talked to other women friends. Your only difficulty waskeeping up separate relations with the two women, and even that was not so difficult as it looked.
You explained to the aunt that, to allay66 the suspicions of her husband, you had to pretend to paycourt to the niece. And the younger lady needed little convincing - she would never seriouslyconsider her aunt as a rival.
'But then Mrs Pengelley made up her mind, without saying anything to you, to consult me. If shecould be really assured, beyond any possible doubt, that her husband was trying to poison her, shewould feel justified67 in leaving him, and linking her life with yours - which is what she imaginedyou wanted her to do.
But that did not suit your book at all. You did not want a detective prying68 around. A favourableminute occurs. You are in the house when Mr Pengelley is getting some gruel for his wife, andyou introduce the fatal dose. The rest is easy. Apparently69 anxious to hush matters up, you secretlyfoment them. But you reckoned without Hercule Poirot, my intelligent young friend.'
Radnor was deadly pale, but he still endeavoured to carry off matters with a high hand.
'Very interesting and ingenious, but why tell me all this?' 'Because, monsieur, I represent - not thelaw, but Mrs Pen-gelley.
For her sake, I give you a chance of escape. Sign this paper, and you shall have twenty-four hours'
start - twenty-four hours before I place it in the hands of the police.'
Radnor hesitated.
'You can't prove anything.'
'Can't I? I am Hercule Poirot. Look out of the window, monsieur.
There are two men in the street. They have orders not to lose sight of you.'
Radnor strode across to the window and pulled aside the blind, then shrank back with an oath.
'You see, monsieur? Sign - it is your best chance.'
'What guarantee have I - '
'That I shall keep faith? The word of Hercule Poirot. You will sign? Good. Hastings, be so kind asto pull that left-hand blind half-way up. That is the signal that Mr Radnor may leave unmolested.'
White, muttering oaths. Radnor hurried from the room. Poirot nodded gently.
'A cowardl I always knew it.'
'It seems to me, Poirot, that you've acted in a criminal manner,' I cried angrily. 'You always preachagainst sentiment. And here you are letting a dangerous criminal escape out of sheer senti-mentality.'
'That was not sentiment - that was business,' replied Poirot.
'Do you not see, my friend, that we have no shadow of proof against him? Shall I get up and say totwelve stolid70 Cornishmen that/, Hercule Poirot, knova? They would laugh at me. The only chancewas to frighten him and get a confession that way. Those two loafers that I noticed out:ide came invery useful. Pull down the blind again, will you, Hastings? Not that there wasany reason for raising it. It was part of the raise en scdne.
'Well, well, we must keep our word. Twenty-four hours, did I say? So much longer for poor MrPengelley - and it is not more than he deserves; for mark you, he deceived his wife. I am verystrong on the family life, as you know. Ah, well, twenty-four houri - and then? I have great faith inScotland Yard. They will get him, raon ami; they will get him.'
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landlady
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discreetly
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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embarrassment
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steadily
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abruptly
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investigations
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strictly
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uncertainty
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reticence
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plunged
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recital
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spoke
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reassuringly
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brutal
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motive
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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consigned
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| 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 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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complicates
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| 使复杂化( complicate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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gruel
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| n.稀饭，粥 | |
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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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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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scurrilous
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| adj.下流的，恶意诽谤的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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transpired
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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exhume
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| v.掘出，挖掘 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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exhumed
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| v.挖出，发掘出( exhume的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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arsenic
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| n.砒霜，砷；adj.砷的 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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sodas
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| n.苏打( soda的名词复数 )；碱；苏打水；汽水 | |
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conjuror
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| n.魔术师，变戏法者 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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