ID r. Metcalf was one of the best-known physicians in Danemouth. He had no aggressive bedside manner, but hispresence in the sick room had an invariably cheering effect. He was middle-aged1, with a quiet pleasant voice.
He listened carefully to Superintendent2 Harper and replied to his questions with gentle precision.
Harper said:
“Then I can take it, Doctor Metcalf, that what I was told by Mrs. Jefferson was substantially correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Jefferson’s health is in a precarious3 state. For several years now the man has been driving himselfruthlessly. In his determination to live like other men, he has lived at a far greater pace than the normal man of his age.
He has refused to rest, to take things easy, to go slow—or any of the other phrases with which I and his other medicaladvisers have tendered our opinion. The result is that the man is an overworked engine. Heart, lungs, blood pressure—they’re all overstrained.”
“You say Mr. Jefferson has absolutely refused to listen?”
“Yes. I don’t know that I blame him. It’s not what I say to my patients, Superintendent, but a man may as wellwear out as rust4 out. A lot of my colleagues do that, and take it from me it’s not a bad way. In a place like Danemouthone sees most of the other thing: invalids5 clinging to life, terrified of over-exerting themselves, terrified of a breath ofdraughty air, of a stray germ, of an injudicious meal!”
“I expect that’s true enough,” said Superintendent Harper. “What it amounts to, then, is this: Conway Jefferson isstrong enough, physically6 speaking—or, I suppose I mean, muscularly speaking. Just what can he do in the active line,by the way?”
“He has immense strength in his arms and shoulders. He was a powerful man before his accident. He is extremelydexterous in his handling of his wheeled chair, and with the aid of crutches7 he can move himself about a room—fromhis bed to the chair, for instance.”
“Isn’t it possible for a man injured as Mr. Jefferson was to have artificial legs?”
“Not in his case. There was a spine8 injury.”
“I see. Let me sum up again. Jefferson is strong and fit in the muscular sense. He feels well and all that?”
Metcalf nodded.
“But his heart is in a bad condition. Any overstrain or exertion9, or a shock or a sudden fright, and he might pop off.
Is that it?”
“More or less. Over-exertion is killing10 him slowly, because he won’t give in when he feels tired. That aggravatesthe cardiac condition. It is unlikely that exertion would kill him suddenly. But a sudden shock or fright might easily doso. That is why I expressly warned his family.”
Superintendent Harper said slowly:
“But in actual fact a shock didn’t kill him. I mean, doctor, that there couldn’t have been a much worse shock thanthis business, and he’s still alive?”
Dr. Metcalf shrugged11 his shoulders.
“I know. But if you’d had my experience, Superintendent, you’d know that case history shows the impossibility ofprognosticating accurately13. People who ought to die of shock and exposure don’t die of shock and exposure, etc., etc.
The human frame is tougher than one can imagine possible. Moreover, in my experience, a physical shock is moreoften fatal than a mental shock. In plain language, a door banging suddenly would be more likely to kill Mr. Jeffersonthan the discovery that a girl he was fond of had died in a particularly horrible manner.”
“Why is that, I wonder?”
“The breaking of a piece of bad news nearly always sets up a defence reaction. It numbs14 the recipient15. They areunable—at first—to take it in. Full realization16 takes a little time. But the banged door, someone jumping out of acupboard, the sudden onslaught of a motor as you cross a road—all those things are immediate17 in their action. Theheart gives a terrified leap—to put it in layman’s language.”
Superintendent Harper said slowly:
“But as far as anyone would know, Mr. Jefferson’s death might easily have been caused by the shock of the girl’sdeath?”
“Oh, easily.” The doctor looked curiously18 at the other. “You don’t think—”
“I don’t know what I think,” said Superintendent Harper vexedly.
II
“But you’ll admit, sir, that the two things would fit in very prettily19 together,” he said a little later to Sir HenryClithering. “Kill two birds with one stone. First the girl—and the fact of her death takes off Mr. Jefferson too—beforehe’s had any opportunity of altering his will.”
“Do you think he will alter it?”
“You’d be more likely to know that, sir, than I would. What do you say?”
“I don’t know. Before Ruby21 Keene came on the scene I happen to know that he had left his money between MarkGaskell and Mrs. Jefferson. I don’t see why he should now change his mind about that. But of course he might do so.
Might leave it to a Cats’ Home, or to subsidize young professional dancers.”
Superintendent Harper agreed.
“You never know what bee a man is going to get in his bonnet—especially when he doesn’t feel there’s any moralobligation in the disposal of his fortune. No blood relations in this case.”
Sir Henry said:
“He is fond of the boy—of young Peter.”
“D’you think he regards him as a grandson? You’d know that better than I would, sir.”
Sir Henry said slowly:
“No, I don’t think so.”
“There’s another thing I’d like to ask you, sir. It’s a thing I can’t judge for myself. But they’re friends of yours andso you’d know. I’d like very much to know just how fond Mr. Jefferson is of Mr. Gaskell and young Mrs. Jefferson.”
Sir Henry frowned.
“I’m not sure if I understand you, Superintendent?”
“Well, it’s this way, sir. How fond is he of them as persons—apart from his relationship to them?”
“Ah, I see what you mean.”
“Yes, sir. Nobody doubts that he was very attached to them both—but he was attached to them, as I see it, becausethey were, respectively, the husband and the wife of his daughter and his son. But supposing, for instance, one of themhad married again?”
Sir Henry reflected. He said:
“It’s an interesting point you raise there. I don’t know. I’m inclined to suspect—this is a mere22 opinion—that itwould have altered his attitude a good deal. He would have wished them well, borne no rancour, but I think, yes, Irather think that he would have taken very little more interest in them.”
“In both cases, sir?”
“I think so, yes. In Mr. Gaskell’s, almost certainly, and I rather think in Mrs. Jefferson’s also, but that’s not nearlyso certain. I think he was fond of her for her own sake.”
“Sex would have something to do with that,” said Superintendent Harper sapiently23. “Easier for him to look on heras a daughter than to look on Mr. Gaskell as a son. It works both ways. Women accept a son-in-law as one of thefamily easily enough, but there aren’t many times when a woman looks on her son’s wife as a daughter.”
Superintendent Harper went on:
“Mind if we walk along this path, sir, to the tennis court? I see Miss Marple’s sitting there. I want to ask her to dosomething for me. As a matter of fact I want to rope you both in.”
“In what way, Superintendent?”
“To get at stuff that I can’t get at myself. I want you to tackle Edwards for me, sir.”
“Edwards? What do you want from him?”
“Everything you can think of! Everything he knows and what he thinks! About the relations between the variousmembers of the family, his angle on the Ruby Keene business. Inside stuff. He knows better than anyone the state ofaffairs—you bet he does! And he wouldn’t tell me. But he’ll tell you. And something might turn up from it. That is, ofcourse, if you don’t object?”
Sir Henry said grimly:
“I don’t object. I’ve been sent for, urgently, to get at the truth. I mean to do my utmost.”
He added:
“How do you want Miss Marple to help you?”
“With some girls. Some of those Girl Guides. We’ve rounded up half a dozen or so, the ones who were mostfriendly with Pamela Reeves. It’s possible that they may know something. You see, I’ve been thinking. It seems to methat if that girl was really going to Woolworth’s she would have tried to persuade one of the other girls to go with her.
Girls usually like to shop with someone.”
“Yes, I think that’s true.”
“So I think it’s possible that Woolworth’s was only an excuse. I want to know where the girl was really going. Shemay have let slip something. If so, I feel Miss Marple’s the person to get it out of these girls. I’d say she knows a thingor two about girls—more than I do. And, anyway, they’d be scared of the police.”
“It sounds to me the kind of village domestic problem that is right up Miss Marple’s street. She’s very sharp, youknow.”
The Superintendent smiled. He said:
“I’ll say you’re right. Nothing much gets past her.” Miss Marple looked up at their approach and welcomed themeagerly. She listened to the Superintendent’s request and at once acquiesced24.
“I should like to help you very much, Superintendent, and I think that perhaps I could be of some use. What withthe Sunday School, you know, and the Brownies, and our Guides, and the Orphanage25 quite near — I’m on thecommittee, you know, and often run in to have a little talk with Matron—and then servants—I usually have veryyoung maids. Oh, yes, I’ve quite a lot of experience in when a girl is speaking the truth and when she is holdingsomething back.”
“In fact, you’re an expert,” said Sir Henry.
Miss Marple flashed him a reproachful glance and said:
“Oh, please don’t laugh at me, Sir Henry.”
“I shouldn’t dream of laughing at you. You’ve had the laugh of me too many times.”
“One does see so much evil in a village,” murmured Miss Marple in an explanatory voice.
“By the way,” said Sir Henry, “I’ve cleared up one point you asked me about. The Superintendent tells me thatthere were nail clippings in Ruby’s wastepaper basket.”
Miss Marple said thoughtfully:
“There were? Then that’s that….”
“Why did you want to know, Miss Marple?” asked the Superintendent.
Miss Marple said:
“It was one of the things that—well, that seemed wrong when I looked at the body. The hands were wrong,somehow, and I couldn’t at first think why. Then I realized that girls who are very much made-up, and all that, usuallyhave very long fingernails. Of course, I know that girls everywhere do bite their nails—it’s one of those habits that arevery hard to break oneself of. But vanity often does a lot to help. Still, I presumed that this girl hadn’t cured herself.
And then the little boy—Peter, you know—he said something which showed that her nails had been long, only shecaught one and broke it. So then, of course, she might have trimmed off the rest to make an even appearance, and Iasked about clippings and Sir Henry said he’d find out.”
Sir Henry remarked:
“You said just now, ‘one of the things that seemed wrong when you looked at the body.’ Was there somethingelse?”
Miss Marple nodded vigorously.
“Oh yes!” she said. “There was the dress. The dress was all wrong.”
Both men looked at her curiously.
“Now why?” said Sir Henry.
“Well, you see, it was an old dress. Josie said so, definitely, and I could see for myself that it was shabby and ratherworn. Now that’s all wrong.”
“I don’t see why.”
Miss Marple got a little pink.
“Well, the idea is, isn’t it, that Ruby Keene changed her dress and went off to meet someone on whom shepresumably had what my young nephews call a ‘crush’?”
The Superintendent’s eyes twinkled a little.
“That’s the theory. She’d got a date with someone—a boy friend, as the saying goes.”
“Then why,” demanded Miss Marple, “was she wearing an old dress?”
The Superintendent scratched his head thoughtfully. He said:
“I see your point. You think she’d wear a new one?”
“I think she’d wear her best dress. Girls do.”
Sir Henry interposed.
“Yes, but look here, Miss Marple. Suppose she was going outside to this rendezvous26. Going in an open car,perhaps, or walking in some rough going. Then she’d not want to risk messing a new frock and she’d put on an oldone.”
“That would be the sensible thing to do,” agreed the Superintendent.
Miss Marple turned on him. She spoke27 with animation28.
“The sensible thing to do would be to change into trousers and a pullover, or into tweeds. That, of course (I don’twant to be snobbish29, but I’m afraid it’s unavoidable), that’s what a girl of—of our class would do.
“A well-bred girl,” continued Miss Marple, warming to her subject, “is always very particular to wear the rightclothes for the right occasion. I mean, however hot the day was, a well-bred girl would never turn up at a point-to-point in a silk flowered frock.”
“And the correct wear to meet a lover?” demanded Sir Henry.
“If she were meeting him inside the hotel or somewhere where evening dress was worn, she’d wear her bestevening frock, of course—but outside she’d feel she’d look ridiculous in evening dress and she’d wear her mostattractive sportswear.”
“Granted, Fashion Queen, but the girl Ruby—”
Miss Marple said:
“Ruby, of course, wasn’t—well, to put it bluntly—Ruby wasn’t a lady. She belonged to the class that wear theirbest clothes however unsuitable to the occasion. Last year, you know, we had a picnic outing at Scrantor Rocks.
You’d be surprised at the unsuitable clothes the girls wore. Foulard dresses and patent shoes and quite elaborate hats,some of them. For climbing about over rocks and in gorse and heather. And the young men in their best suits. Ofcourse, hiking’s different again. That’s practically a uniform—and girls don’t seem to realize that shorts are veryunbecoming unless they are very slender.”
The Superintendent said slowly:
“And you think that Ruby Keene—?”
“I think that she’d have kept on the frock she was wearing—her best pink one. She’d only have changed it if she’dhad something newer still.”
Superintendent Harper said:
“And what’s your explanation, Miss Marple?”
Miss Marple said:
“I haven’t got one—yet. But I can’t help feeling that it’s important….”
III
Inside the wire cage, the tennis lesson that Raymond Starr was giving had come to an end.
A stout30 middle-aged woman uttered a few appreciative31 squeaks32, picked up a sky-blue cardigan and went offtowards the hotel.
Raymond called out a few gay words after her.
Then he turned towards the bench where the three onlookers33 were sitting. The balls dangled34 in a net in his hand, hisracquet was under one arm. The gay, laughing expression on his face was wiped off as though by a sponge from aslate. He looked tired and worried.
Coming towards them, he said: “That’s over.”
Then the smile broke out again, that charming, boyish, expressive35 smile that went so harmoniously36 with hissuntanned face and dark lithe20 grace.
Sir Henry found himself wondering how old the man was. Twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five? It was impossible to say.
Raymond said, shaking his head a little:
“She’ll never be able to play, you know.”
“All this must be very boring for you,” said Miss Marple.
Raymond said simply:
“It is, sometimes. Especially at the end of the summer. For a time the thought of the pay buoys37 you up, but eventhat fails to stimulate38 imagination in the end!”
Superintendent Harper got up. He said abruptly39:
“I’ll call for you in half an hour’s time, Miss Marple, if that will be all right?”
“Perfectly, thank you. I shall be ready.”
Harper went off. Raymond stood looking after him. Then he said: “Mind if I sit here for a bit?”
“Do,” said Sir Henry. “Have a cigarette?” He offered his case, wondering as he did so why he had a slight feelingof prejudice against Raymond Starr. Was it simply because he was a professional tennis coach and dancer? If so, itwasn’t the tennis—it was the dancing. The English, Sir Henry decided40, had a distrust for any man who danced toowell! This fellow moved with too much grace! Ramon—Raymond—which was his name? Abruptly, he asked thequestion.
The other seemed amused.
“Ramon was my original professional name. Ramon and Josie—Spanish effect, you know. Then there was rather aprejudice against foreigners—so I became Raymond—very British—”
Miss Marple said:
“And is your real name something quite different?”
He smiled at her.
“Actually my real name is Ramon. I had an Argentine grandmother, you see—” (And that accounts for that swingfrom the hips41, thought Sir Henry parenthetically.) “But my first name is Thomas. Painfully prosaic42.”
He turned to Sir Henry.
“You come from Devonshire, don’t you, sir? From Stane? My people lived down that way. At Alsmonston.”
Sir Henry’s face lit up.
“Are you one of the Alsmonston Starrs? I didn’t realize that.”
“No—I don’t suppose you would.”
There was a slight bitterness in his voice.
Sir Henry said awkwardly:
“Bad luck—er—all that.”
“The place being sold up after it had been in the family for three hundred years? Yes, it was rather. Still, our kindhave to go, I suppose. We’ve outlived our usefulness. My elder brother went to New York. He’s in publishing—doingwell. The rest of us are scattered44 up and down the earth. I’ll say it’s hard to get a job nowadays when you’ve nothingto say for yourself except that you’ve had a public-school education! Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get taken on as areception clerk at an hotel. The tie and the manner are an asset there. The only job I could get was showman in aplumbing establishment. Selling superb peach and lemon-coloured porcelain45 baths. Enormous showrooms, but as Inever knew the price of the damned things or how soon we could deliver them—I got fired.
“The only things I could do were dance and play tennis. I got taken on at an hotel on the Riviera. Good pickingsthere. I suppose I was doing well. Then I overheard an old Colonel, real old Colonel, incredibly ancient, British to thebackbone and always talking about Poona. He went up to the manager and said at the top of his voice:
“‘Where’s the gigolo? I want to get hold of the gigolo. My wife and daughter want to dance, yer know. Where isthe feller? What does he sting yer for? It’s the gigolo I want.’”
Raymond went on:
“Silly to mind—but I did. I chucked it. Came here. Less pay but pleasanter work. Mostly teaching tennis to rotundwomen who will never, never, never be able to play. That and dancing with the neglected wallflower daughters of richclients. Oh well, it’s life, I suppose. Excuse today’s hard-luck story!”
He laughed. His teeth flashed out white, his eyes crinkled up at the corners. He looked suddenly healthy and happyand very much alive.
Sir Henry said:
“I’m glad to have a chat with you. I’ve been wanting to talk with you.”
“About Ruby Keene? I can’t help you, you know. I don’t know who killed her. I knew very little about her. Shedidn’t confide46 in me.”
Miss Marple said: “Did you like her?”
“Not particularly. I didn’t dislike her.”
His voice was careless, uninterested.
Sir Henry said:
“So you’ve no suggestions to offer?”
“I’m afraid not … I’d have told Harper if I had. It just seems to me one of those things! Petty, sordid47 little crime—no clues, no motive48.”
“Two people had a motive,” said Miss Marple.
Sir Henry looked at her sharply.
“Really?” Raymond looked surprised.
Miss Marple looked insistently49 at Sir Henry and he said rather unwillingly50:
“Her death probably benefits Mrs. Jefferson and Mr. Gaskell to the amount of fifty thousand pounds.”
“What?” Raymond looked really startled—more than startled—upset. “Oh, but that’s absurd—absolutely absurd—Mrs. Jefferson—neither of them—could have had anything to do with it. It would be incredible to think of such athing.”
Miss Marple coughed. She said gently:
“I’m afraid, you know, you’re rather an idealist.”
“I?” he laughed. “Not me! I’m a hard-boiled cynic.”
“Money,” said Miss Marple, “is a very powerful motive.”
“Perhaps,” Raymond said hotly. “But that either of those two would strangle a girl in cold blood—” He shook hishead.
Then he got up.
“Here’s Mrs. Jefferson now. Come for her lesson. She’s late.” His voice sounded amused. “Ten minutes late!”
Adelaide Jefferson and Hugo McLean were walking rapidly down the path towards them.
With a smiling apology for her lateness, Addie Jefferson went on to the court. McLean sat down on the bench.
After a polite inquiry51 whether Miss Marple minded a pipe, he lit it and puffed52 for some minutes in silence, watchingcritically the two white figures about the tennis court.
He said at last:
“Can’t see what Addie wants to have lessons for. Have a game, yes. No one enjoys it better than I do. But whylessons?”
“Wants to improve her game,” said Sir Henry.
“She’s not a bad player,” said Hugo. “Good enough, at all events. Dash it all, she isn’t aiming to play atWimbledon.”
He was silent for a minute or two. Then he said:
“Who is this Raymond fellow? Where do they come from, these pros43? Fellow looks like a dago to me.”
“He’s one of the Devonshire Starrs,” said Sir Henry.
“What? Not really?”
Sir Henry nodded. It was clear that this news was unpleasing to Hugo McLean. He scowled53 more than ever.
He said: “Don’t know why Addie sent for me. She seems not to have turned a hair over this business! Never lookedbetter. Why send for me?”
Sir Henry asked with some curiosity:
“When did she send for you?”
“Oh—er—when all this happened.”
“How did you hear? Telephone or telegram?”
“Telegram.”
“As a matter of curiosity, when was it sent off?”
“Well—I don’t know exactly.”
“What time did you receive it?”
“I didn’t exactly receive it. It was telephoned on to me—as a matter of fact.”
“Why, where were you?”
“Fact is, I’d left London the afternoon before. I was staying at Danebury Head.”
“What—quite near here?”
“Yes, rather funny, wasn’t it? Got the message when I got in from a round of golf and came over here at once.”
Miss Marple gazed at him thoughtfully. He looked hot and uncomfortable. She said: “I’ve heard it’s very pleasantat Danebury Head, and not very expensive.”
“No, it’s not expensive. I couldn’t afford it if it was. It’s a nice little place.”
“We must drive over there one day,” said Miss Marple.
“Eh? What? Oh—er—yes, I should.” He got up. “Better take some exercise—get an appetite.”
He walked away stiffly.
“Women,” said Sir Henry, “treat their devoted54 admirers very badly.”
Miss Marple smiled but made no answer.
“Does he strike you as rather a dull dog?” asked Sir Henry. “I’d be interested to know.”
“A little limited in his ideas, perhaps,” said Miss Marple. “But with possibilities, I think — oh, definitelypossibilities.”
Sir Henry in his turn got up.
“It’s time for me to go and do my stuff. I see Mrs. Bantry is on her way to keep you company.”
IV
Mrs. Bantry arrived breathless and sat down with a gasp55.
She said:
“I’ve been talking to chambermaids. But it isn’t any good. I haven’t found out a thing more! Do you think that girlcan really have been carrying on with someone without everybody in the hotel knowing all about it?”
“That’s a very interesting point, dear. I should say, definitely not. Somebody knows, depend upon it, if it’s true! Butshe must have been very clever about it.”
Mrs. Bantry’s attention had strayed to the tennis court. She said approvingly:
“Addie’s tennis is coming on a lot. Attractive young man, that tennis pro12. Addie’s looking quite nice-looking.
She’s still an attractive woman—I shouldn’t be at all surprised if she married again.”
“She’ll be a rich woman, too, when Mr. Jefferson dies,” said Miss Marple.
“Oh, don’t always have such a nasty mind, Jane! Why haven’t you solved this mystery yet? We don’t seem to begetting56 on at all. I thought you’d know at once.” Mrs. Bantry’s tone held reproach.
“No, no, dear. I didn’t know at once—not for some time.”
Mrs. Bantry turned startled and incredulous eyes on her.
“You mean you know now who killed Ruby Keene?”
“Oh yes,” said Miss Marple, “I know that!”
“But Jane, who is it? Tell me at once.”
Miss Marple shook her head very firmly and pursed up her lips.
“I’m sorry, Dolly, but that wouldn’t do at all.”
“Why wouldn’t it do?”
“Because you’re so indiscreet. You would go round telling everyone—or, if you didn’t tell, you’d hint.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”
“People who use that phrase are always the last to live up to it. It’s no good, dear. There’s a long way to go yet. Agreat many things that are quite obscure. You remember when I was so against letting Mrs. Partridge collect for theRed Cross, and I couldn’t say why. The reason was that her nose had twitched58 in just the same way that that maid ofmine, Alice, twitched her nose when I sent her out to pay the books. Always paid them a shilling or so short, and said‘it could go on to the next week’s account,’ which, of course, was exactly what Mrs. Partridge did, only on a muchlarger scale. Seventy-five pounds it was she embezzled59.”
“Never mind Mrs. Partridge,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“But I had to explain to you. And if you care I’ll give you a hint. The trouble in this case is that everybody has beenmuch too credulous57 and believing. You simply cannot afford to believe everything that people tell you. When there’sanything fishy60 about, I never believe anyone at all! You see, I know human nature so well.”
Mrs. Bantry was silent for a minute or two. Then she said in a different tone of voice:
“I told you, didn’t I, that I didn’t see why I shouldn’t enjoy myself over this case. A real murder in my own house!
The sort of thing that will never happen again.”
“I hope not,” said Miss Marple.
“Well, so do I, really. Once is enough. But it’s my murder, Jane; I want to enjoy myself over it.”
Miss Marple shot a glance at her.
Mrs. Bantry said belligerently61:
“Don’t you believe that?”
Miss Marple said sweetly:
“Of course, Dolly, if you tell me so.”
“Yes, but you never believe what people tell you, do you? You’ve just said so. Well, you’re quite right.” Mrs.
Bantry’s voice took on a sudden bitter note. She said: “I’m not altogether a fool. You may think, Jane, that I don’tknow what they’re saying all over St. Mary Mead—all over the county! They’re saying, one and all, that there’s nosmoke without fire, that if the girl was found in Arthur’s library, then Arthur must know something about it. They’resaying that the girl was Arthur’s mistress—that she was his illegitimate daughter—that she was blackmailing62 him.
They’re saying anything that comes into their damned heads! And it will go on like that! Arthur won’t realize it at first—he won’t know what’s wrong. He’s such a dear old stupid that he’d never believe people would think things likethat about him. He’ll be cold-shouldered and looked at askance (whatever that means!) and it will dawn on him littleby little and suddenly he’ll be horrified63 and cut to the soul, and he’ll fasten up like a clam64 and just endure, day afterday, in misery65.
“It’s because of all that’s going to happen to him that I’ve come here to ferret out every single thing about it that Ican! This murder’s got to be solved! If it isn’t, then Arthur’s whole life will be wrecked—and I won’t have thathappen. I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!”
She paused for a minute and said:
“I won’t have the dear old boy go through hell for something he didn’t do. That’s the only reason I came toDanemouth and left him alone at home—to find out the truth.”
“I know, dear,” said Miss Marple. “That’s why I’m here too.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
superintendent
|
|
| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
precarious
|
|
| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
rust
|
|
| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
invalids
|
|
| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
crutches
|
|
| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
spine
|
|
| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
pro
|
|
| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
numbs
|
|
| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
recipient
|
|
| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
realization
|
|
| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
prettily
|
|
| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
lithe
|
|
| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
ruby
|
|
| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
sapiently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
24
acquiesced
|
|
| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
orphanage
|
|
| n.孤儿院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
rendezvous
|
|
| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
animation
|
|
| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
snobbish
|
|
| adj.势利的，谄上欺下的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
appreciative
|
|
| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
squeaks
|
|
| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
onlookers
|
|
| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
dangled
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
harmoniously
|
|
| 和谐地，调和地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
buoys
|
|
| n.浮标( buoy的名词复数 )；航标；救生圈；救生衣v.使浮起( buoy的第三人称单数 )；支持；为…设浮标；振奋…的精神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
stimulate
|
|
| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
hips
|
|
| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
prosaic
|
|
| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
pros
|
|
| abbr.prosecuting 起诉；prosecutor 起诉人；professionals 自由职业者；proscenium （舞台）前部n.赞成的意见( pro的名词复数 )；赞成的理由；抵偿物；交换物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
porcelain
|
|
| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
insistently
|
|
| ad.坚持地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
unwillingly
|
|
| adv.不情愿地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
puffed
|
|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
scowled
|
|
| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
begetting
|
|
| v.为…之生父( beget的现在分词 )；产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
credulous
|
|
| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
twitched
|
|
| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
embezzled
|
|
| v.贪污，盗用（公款）( embezzle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
fishy
|
|
| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
belligerently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
blackmailing
|
|
| 胁迫，尤指以透露他人不体面行为相威胁以勒索钱财( blackmail的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
horrified
|
|
| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
clam
|
|
| n.蛤，蛤肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |