I found it hard to shake off the impression left by the anonymous1 letter. Pitch soils.
However, I gathered up the other three letters, glanced at my watch, and started out.
I wondered very much what this might be that had “come to the knowledge” of three ladies simultaneously2. I tookit to be the same piece of news. In this, I was to realize that my psychology3 was at fault.
I cannot pretend that my calls took me past the police station. My feet gravitated there of their own accord. I wasanxious to know whether Inspector4 Slack had returned from Old Hall.
I found that he had, and further, that Miss Cram5 had returned with him. The fair Gladys was seated in the policestation carrying off matters with a high hand. She denied absolutely having taken the suitcase to the woods.
“Just because one of these gossiping old cats had nothing better to do than look out of her window all night you goand pitch upon me. She’s been mistaken once, remember, when she said she saw me at the end of the lane on theafternoon of the murder, and if she was mistaken then, in daylight, how can she possibly have recognized me bymoonlight?
“Wicked it is, the way these old ladies go on down here. Say anything, they will. And me asleep in my bed asinnocent as can be. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, the lot of you.”
“And supposing the landlady6 of the Blue Boar identifies the suitcase as yours, Miss Cram?”
“If she says anything of the kind, she’s wrong. There’s no name on it. Nearly everybody’s got a suitcase like that.
As for poor Dr. Stone, accusing him of being a common burglar! And he has a lot of letters after his name.”
“You refuse to give us any explanation, then, Miss Cram?”
“No refusing about it. You’ve made a mistake, that’s all. You and your meddlesome7 Marples. I won’t say a wordmore—not without my solicitor8 present. I’m going this minute—unless you’re going to arrest me.”
For answer, the Inspector rose and opened the door for her, and with a toss of the head, Miss Cram walked out.
“That’s the line she takes,” said Slack, coming back to his chair. “Absolute denial. And, of course, the old lady mayhave been mistaken. No jury would believe you could recognize anyone from that distance on a moonlit night. And, ofcourse, as I say, the old lady may have made a mistake.”
“She may,” I said, “but I don’t think she did. Miss Marple is usually right. That’s what makes her unpopular.”
The Inspector grinned.
“That’s what Hurst says. Lord, these villages!”
“What about the silver, Inspector?”
“Seemed to be perfectly9 in order. Of course, that meant one lot or the other must be a fake. There’s a very goodman in Much Benham, an authority on old silver. I’ve phoned over to him and sent a car to fetch him. We’ll soonknow which is which. Either the burglary was an accomplished10 fact, or else it was only planned. Doesn’t make afrightful lot of difference either way—I mean as far as we’re concerned. Robbery’s a small business compared withmurder. These two aren’t concerned with the murder. We’ll maybe get a line on him through the girl—that’s why I lether go without any more fuss.”
“I wondered,” I said.
“A pity about Mr. Redding. It’s not often you find a man who goes out of his way to oblige you.”
“I suppose not,” I said, smiling slightly.
“Women cause a lot of trouble,” moralized the Inspector.
He sighed and then went on, somewhat to my surprise: “Of course, there’s Archer11.”
“Oh!” I said, “You’ve thought of him?”
“Why, naturally, sir, first thing. It didn’t need any anonymous letters to put me on his track.”
“Anonymous letters,” I said sharply. “Did you get one, then?”
“That’s nothing new, sir. We get a dozen a day, at least. Oh, yes, we were put wise to Archer. As though the policecouldn’t look out for themselves! Archer’s been under suspicion from the first. The trouble of it is, he’s got an alibi12.
Not that it amounts to anything, but it’s awkward to get over.”
“What do you mean by its not amounting to anything?” I asked.
“Well, it appears he was with a couple of pals13 all the afternoon. Not, as I say, that that counts much. Men likeArcher and his pals would swear to anything. There’s no believing a word they say. We know that. But the publicdoesn’t, and the jury’s taken from the public, more’s the pity. They know nothing, and ten to one believe everythingthat’s said in the witness box, no matter who it is that says it. And of course Archer himself will swear till he’s blackin the face that he didn’t do it.”
“Not so obliging as Mr. Redding,” I said with a smile.
“Not he,” said the Inspector, making the remark as a plain statement of fact.
“It is natural, I suppose, to cling to life,” I mused14.
“You’d be surprised if you knew the murderers that have got off through the softheartedness of the jury,” said theInspector gloomily.
“But do you really think that Archer did it?” I asked.
It has struck me as curious all along that Inspector Slack never seems to have any personal views of his own on themurder. The easiness or difficulty of getting a conviction are the only points that seem to appeal to him.
“I’d like to be a bit surer,” he admitted. “A fingerprint15 now, or a footprint, or seen in the vicinity about the time ofthe crime. Can’t risk arresting him without something of that kind. He’s been seen round Mr. Redding’s house once ortwice, but he’d say that was to speak to his mother. A decent body, she is. No, on the whole, I’m for the lady. If Icould only get definite proof of blackmail—but you can’t get definite proof of anything in this crime! It’s theory,theory, theory. It’s a sad pity that there’s not a single spinster lady living along your road, Mr. Clement16. I bet she’dhave seen something if there had been.”
His words reminded me of my calls, and I took leave of him. It was about the solitary17 instance when I had seen himin a genial18 mood.
My first call was on Miss Hartnell. She must have been watching me from the window, for before I had time toring she had opened the front door, and clasping my hand firmly in hers, had led me over the threshold.
“So good of you to come. In here. More private.”
We entered a microscopic19 room, about the size of a hencoop. Miss Hartnell shut the door and with an air of deepsecrecy waved me to a seat (there were only three). I perceived that she was enjoying herself.
“I’m never one to beat about the bush,” she said in her jolly voice, the latter slightly toned down to meet therequirements of the situation. “You know how things go the rounds in a village like this.”
“Unfortunately,” I said, “I do.”
“I agree with you. Nobody dislikes gossip more than I do. But there it is. I thought it my duty to tell the policeinspector that I’d called on Mrs. Lestrange the afternoon of the murder and that she was out. I don’t expect to bethanked for doing my duty, I just do it. Ingratitude20 is what you meet with first and last in this life. Why, only yesterdaythat impudent21 Mrs. Baker—”
“Yes, yes,” I said, hoping to avert22 the usual tirade23. “Very sad, very sad. But you were saying.”
“The lower classes don’t know who are their best friends,” said Miss Hartnell. “I always say a word in seasonwhen I’m visiting. Not that I’m ever thanked for it.”
“You were telling the Inspector about your call upon Mrs. Lestrange,” I prompted.
“Exactly—and by the way, he didn’t thank me. Said he’d ask for information when he wanted it—not those wordsexactly, but that was the spirit. There’s a different class of men in the police force nowadays.”
“Very probably,” I said. “But you were going on to say something?”
“I decided24 that this time I wouldn’t go near any wretched inspector. After all, a clergyman is a gentleman—at leastsome are,” she added.
I gathered that the qualification was intended to include me.
“If I can help you in any way,” I began.
“It’s a matter of duty,” said Miss Hartnell, and closed her mouth with a snap. “I don’t want to have to say thesethings. No one likes it less. But duty is duty.”
I waited.
“I’ve been given to understand,” went on Miss Hartnell, turning rather red, “that Mrs. Lestrange gives out that shewas at home all the time—that she didn’t answer the door because—well, she didn’t choose. Such airs and graces. Ionly called as a matter of duty, and to be treated like that!”
“She has been ill,” I said mildly.
“Ill? Fiddlesticks. You’re too unworldly, Mr. Clement. There’s nothing the matter with that woman. Too ill toattend the inquest indeed! Medical certificate from Dr. Haydock! She can wind him round her little finger, everyoneknows that. Well, where was I?”
I didn’t quite know. It is difficult with Miss Hartnell to know where narrative26 ends and vituperation begins.
“Oh, about calling on her that afternoon. Well, it’s fiddlesticks to say she was in the house. She wasn’t. I know.”
“How can you possibly know?”
Miss Hartnell’s face turned redder. In someone less truculent27, her demeanour might have been called embarrassed.
“I’d knocked and rung,” she explained. “Twice. If not three times. And it occurred to me suddenly that the bellmight be out of order.”
She was, I was glad to note, unable to look me in the face when saying this. The same builder builds all our housesand the bells he installs are clearly audible when standing28 on the mat outside the front door. Both Miss Hartnell and Iknew this perfectly well, but I suppose decencies have to be preserved.
“Yes?” I murmured.
“I didn’t want to push my card through the letter box. That would seem so rude, and whatever I am, I am neverrude.”
She made this amazing statement without a tremor29.
“So I thought I would just go round the house and—and tap on the window pane,” she continued unblushingly. “Iwent all round the house and looked in at all the windows, but there was no one in the house at all.”
I understood her perfectly. Taking advantage of the fact that the house was empty, Miss Hartnell had givenunbridled rein30 to her curiosity and had gone round the house examining the garden and peering in at all the windowsto see as much as she could of the interior. She had chosen to tell her story to me, believing that I should be a moresympathetic and lenient31 audience than the police. The clergy25 are supposed to give the benefit of the doubt to theirparishioners.
I made no comment on the situation. I merely asked a question.
“What time was this, Miss Hartnell?”
“As far as I can remember,” said Miss Hartnell, “it must have been close on six o’clock. I went straight homeafterwards, and I got in about ten past six, and Mrs. Protheroe came in somewhere round about the half hour, leavingDr. Stone and Mr. Redding outside, and we talked about bulbs. And all the time the poor Colonel lying murdered. It’sa sad world.”
“It is sometimes a rather unpleasant one,” I said.
I rose.
“And that is all you have to tell me?”
“I just thought it might be important.”
“It might,” I agreed.
And refusing to be drawn32 further, much to Miss Hartnell’s disappointment, I took my leave.
Miss Wetherby, whom I visited next, received me in a kind of flutter.
“Dear Vicar, how truly kind. You’ve had tea? Really, you won’t? A cushion for your back? It is so kind of you tocome round so promptly33. Always willing to put yourself out for others.”
There was a good deal of this before we came to the point, and even then it was approached with a good deal ofcircumlocution.
“You must understand that I heard this on the best authority.”
In St. Mary Mead34 the best authority is always somebody else’s servant.
“You can’t tell me who told you?”
“I promised, dear Mr. Clement. And I always think a promise should be a sacred thing.”
She looked very solemn.
“Shall we say a little bird told me? That is safe isn’t it?”
I longed to say, “It’s damned silly.” I rather wish I had. I should have liked to observe the effect on Miss Wetherby.
“Well, this little bird told that she saw a certain lady, who shall be nameless.”
“Another kind of bird?” I inquired.
To my great surprise Miss Wetherby went off into paroxysms of laughter and tapped me playfully on the armsaying:
“Oh, Vicar, you must not be so naughty!”
When she had recovered, she went on.
“A certain lady, and where do you think this certain lady was going? She turned into the Vicarage road, but beforeshe did so, she looked up and down the road in a most peculiar36 way—to see if anyone she knew were noticing her, Iimagine.”
“And the little bird—” I inquired.
“Paying a visit to the fishmonger’s—in the room over the shop.”
I know where maids go on their days out. I know there is one place they never go if they can help—anywhere inthe open air.
“And the time,” continued Miss Wetherby, leaning forward mysteriously, “was just before six o’clock.”
“On which day?”
Miss Wetherby gave a little scream.
“The day of the murder, of course, didn’t I say so?”
“I inferred it,” I replied. “And the name of the lady?”
“Begins with an L,” said Wetherby, nodding her head several times.
Feeling that I had got to the end of the information Miss Wetherby had to impart, I rose to my feet.
“You won’t let the police cross-question me, will you?” said Miss Wetherby, pathetically, as she clasped my handin both of hers. “I do shrink from publicity37. And to stand up in court!”
“In special cases,” I said, “they let witnesses sit down.”
And I escaped.
There was still Mrs. Price Ridley to see. That lady put me in my place at once.
“I will not be mixed up in any police court business,” she said grimly, after shaking my hand coldly. “Youunderstand that, on the other hand, having come across a circumstance which needs explaining, I think it should bebrought to the notice of the authorities.”
“Does it concern Mrs. Lestrange?” I asked.
“Why should it?” demanded Mrs. Price Ridley coldly.
She had me at a disadvantage there.
“It’s a very simple matter,” she continued. “My maid, Clara, was standing at the front gate, she went down therefor a minute or two—she says to get a breath of fresh air. Most unlikely, I should say. Much more probable that shewas looking out for the fishmonger’s boy—if he calls himself a boy—impudent young jackanapes, thinks because he’sseventeen he can joke with all the girls. Anyway, as I say, she was standing at the gate and she heard a sneeze.”
“Yes,” I said, waiting for more.
“That’s all. I tell you she heard a sneeze. And don’t start telling me I’m not so young as I once was and may havemade a mistake, because it was Clara who heard it and she’s only nineteen.”
“But,” I said, “why shouldn’t she have heard a sneeze?”
Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me in obvious pity for my poorness of intellect.
“She heard a sneeze on the day of the murder at a time when there was no one in your house. Doubtless themurderer was concealed38 in the bushes waiting his opportunity. What you have to look for is a man with a cold in hishead.”
“Or a sufferer from hay fever,” I suggested. “But as a matter of fact, Mrs. Price Ridley, I think that mystery has avery easy solution. Our maid, Mary, has been suffering from a severe cold in the head. In fact, her sniffing39 has tried usvery much lately. It must have been her sneeze your maid heard.”
“It was a man’s sneeze,” said Mrs. Price Ridley firmly. “And you couldn’t hear your maid sneeze in your kitchenfrom our gate.”
“You couldn’t hear anyone sneezing in the study from your gate,” I said. “Or at least, I very much doubt it.”
“I said the man might have been concealed in the shrubbery,” said Mrs. Price Ridley. “Doubtless when Clara hadgone in, he effected an entrance by the front door.”
“Well, of course, that’s possible,” I said.
I tried not to make my voice consciously soothing40, but I must have failed, for Mrs. Price Ridley glared at mesuddenly.
“I am accustomed not to be listened to, but I might mention also that to leave a tennis racquet carelessly flung downon the grass without a press completely ruins it. And tennis racquets are very expensive nowadays.”
There did not seem to be rhyme or reason in this flank attack. It bewildered me utterly41.
“But perhaps you don’t agree,” said Mrs. Price Ridley.
“Oh! I do—certainly.”
“I am glad. Well, that is all I have to say. I wash my hands of the whole affair.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes like one weary of this world. I thanked her and said good-bye.
On the doorstep, I ventured to ask Clara about her mistress’s statement.
“It’s quite true, sir, I heard a sneeze. And it wasn’t an ordinary sneeze—not by any means.”
Nothing about a crime is ever ordinary. The shot was not an ordinary kind of shot. The sneeze was not a usual kindof sneeze. It was, I presume, a special murderer’s sneeze. I asked the girl what time this had been, but she was veryvague, some time between a quarter and half past six she thought. Anyway, “it was before the mistress had thetelephone call and was took bad.”
I asked her if she had heard a shot of any kind. And she said the shots had been something awful. After that, Iplaced very little credence42 in her statements.
I was just turning in at my own gate when I decided to pay a friend a visit.
Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had just time for it before taking Evensong. I went down the road to Haydock’shouse. He came out on the doorstep to meet me.
I noticed afresh how worried and haggard he looked. This business seemed to have aged43 him out of all knowledge.
“I’m glad to see you,” he said. “What’s the news?”
I told him the latest Stone development.
“A high-class thief,” he commented. “Well, that explains a lot of things. He’d read up his subject, but he made slipsfrom time to time to me. Protheroe must have caught him out once. You remember the row they had. What do youthink about the girl? Is she in it too?”
“Opinion as to that is undecided,” I said. “For my own part, I think the girl is all right.
“She’s such a prize idiot,” I added.
“Oh! I wouldn’t say that. She’s rather shrewd, is Miss Gladys Cram. A remarkably44 healthy specimen45. Not likely totrouble members of my profession.”
I told him that I was worried about Hawes, and that I was anxious that he should get away for a real rest andchange.
Something evasive came into his manner when I said this. His answer did not ring quite true.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “I suppose that would be the best thing. Poor chap. Poor chap.”
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t—not much. But I’m sorry for a lot of people I don’t like.” He added after a minute or two: “I’m even sorryfor Protheroe. Poor fellow—nobody ever liked him much. Too full of his own rectitude and too self-assertive. It’s anunlovable mixture. He was always the same—even as a young man.”
“I didn’t know you knew him then.”
“Oh, yes! When we lived in Westmorland, I had a practice not far away. That’s a long time ago now. Nearlytwenty years.”
I sighed. Twenty years ago Griselda was five years old. Time is an odd thing….
“Is that all you came to say to me, Clement?”
I looked up with a start. Haydock was watching me with keen eyes.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” he said.
I nodded.
I had been uncertain whether to speak or not when I came in, but now I decided to do so. I like Haydock as well asany man I know. He is a splendid fellow in every way. I felt that what I had to tell might be useful to him.
I recited my interviews with Miss Hartnell and Miss Wetherby.
He was silent for a long time after I’d spoken.
“It’s quite true, Clement,” he said at last. “I’ve been trying to shield Mrs. Lestrange from any inconvenience that Icould. As a matter of fact, she’s an old friend. But that’s not my only reason. That medical certificate of mine isn’t theput-up job you all think it was.”
He paused, and then said gravely:
“This is between you and me, Clement. Mrs. Lestrange is doomed46.”
“What?”
“She’s a dying woman. I give her a month at longest. Do you wonder that I want to keep her from being badgeredand questioned?”
He went on:
“When she turned into this road that evening it was here she came—to this house.”
“You haven’t said so before.”
“I didn’t want to create talk. Six to seven isn’t my time for seeing patients, and everyone knows that. But you cantake my word for it that she was here.”
“She wasn’t here when I came for you, though. I mean, when we discovered the body.”
“No,” he seemed perturbed47. “She’d left—to keep an appointment.”
“In what direction was the appointment? In her own house?”
“I don’t know, Clement. On my honour, I don’t know.”
I believed him, but—
“And supposing an innocent man is hanged?” I said.
“No,” he said. “No one will be hanged for the murder of Colonel Protheroe. You can take my word for that.”
But that is just what I could not do. And yet the certainty in his voice was very great.
“No one will be hanged,” he repeated.
“This man, Archer—”
He made an impatient movement.
“Hasn’t got brains enough to wipe his fingerprints48 off the pistol.”
“Perhaps not,” I said dubiously49.
Then I remembered something, and taking the little brownish crystal I had found in the wood from my pocket, Iheld it out to him and asked him what it was.
“H’m,” he hesitated. “Looks like picric acid. Where did you find it?”
“That,” I replied, “is Sherlock Holmes’s secret.”
He smiled.
“What is picric acid?”
“Well, it’s an explosive.”
“Yes, I know that, but it’s got another use, hasn’t it?”
He nodded.
“It’s used medically—in solution for burns. Wonderful stuff.”
I held out my hand, and rather reluctantly he handed it back to me.
“It’s of no consequence probably,” I said. “But I found it in rather an unusual place.”
“You won’t tell me where?”
Rather childishly, I wouldn’t.
He had his secrets. Well, I would have mine.
I was a little hurt that he had not confided50 in me more fully35.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
anonymous
|
|
| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
simultaneously
|
|
| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
psychology
|
|
| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
inspector
|
|
| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
cram
|
|
| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
landlady
|
|
| n.女房东，女地主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
meddlesome
|
|
| adj.爱管闲事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
solicitor
|
|
| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
archer
|
|
| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
alibi
|
|
| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
pals
|
|
| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
mused
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
fingerprint
|
|
| n.指纹；vt.取...的指纹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
clement
|
|
| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
microscopic
|
|
| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
ingratitude
|
|
| n.忘恩负义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
impudent
|
|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
avert
|
|
| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
tirade
|
|
| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
clergy
|
|
| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
truculent
|
|
| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
tremor
|
|
| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
rein
|
|
| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
lenient
|
|
| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
mead
|
|
| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
publicity
|
|
| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
sniffing
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
credence
|
|
| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
perturbed
|
|
| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
fingerprints
|
|
| n.指纹( fingerprint的名词复数 )v.指纹( fingerprint的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
dubiously
|
|
| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
confided
|
|
| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |