T HREE W OMEN1
D inner was over at Little Paddocks. It had been a silent and uncomfortable meal.
Patrick, uneasily aware of having fallen from grace, only made spasmodic attempts at conversation—and such ashe did make were not well received. Phillipa Haymes was sunk in abstraction. Miss Blacklock herself had abandonedthe effort to behave with her normal cheerfulness. She had changed for dinner and had come down wearing hernecklace of cameos but for the first time fear showed from her darkly circled eyes, and betrayed itself by her twitchinghands.
Julia, alone, had maintained her air of cynical2 detachment throughout the evening.
“I’m sorry, Letty,” she said, “that I can’t pack my bag and go. But I presume the police wouldn’t allow it. I don’tsuppose I’ll darken your roof—or whatever the expression is—for long. I should imagine that Inspector3 Craddock willbe round with a warrant and the handcuffs any moment. In fact I can’t imagine why something of the kind hasn’thappened already.”
“He’s looking for the old lady—for Miss Marple,” said Miss Blacklock.
“Do you think she’s been murdered, too?” Patrick asked with scientific curiosity. “But why? What could sheknow?”
“I don’t know,” said Miss Blacklock dully. “Perhaps Miss Murgatroyd told her something.”
“If she’s been murdered too,” said Patrick, “there seems to be logically only one person who could have done it.”
“Who?”
“Hinchcliffe, of course,” said Patrick triumphantly4. “That’s where she was last seen alive — at Boulders5. Mysolution would be that she never left Boulders.”
“My head aches,” said Miss Blacklock in a dull voice. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Why should Hinchmurder Miss Marple? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It would if Hinch had really murdered Murgatroyd,” said Patrick triumphantly.
Phillipa came out of her apathy6 to say:
“Hinch wouldn’t murder Murgatroyd.”
“She might have if Murgatroyd had blundered on something to show that she—Hinch—was the criminal.”
“Anyway, Hinch was at the station when Murgatroyd was killed.”
“She could have murdered Murgatroyd before she left.”
Startling them all, Letitia Blacklock suddenly screamed out:
“Murder, murder, murder —! Can’t you talk of anything else? I’m frightened, don’t you understand? I’mfrightened. I wasn’t before. I thought I could take care of myself … But what can you do against a murderer who’swaiting—and watching—and biding7 his time! Oh, God!”
She dropped her head forward on her hands. A moment later she looked up and apologized stiffly.
“I’m sorry. I—I lost control.”
“That’s all right, Aunt Letty,” said Patrick affectionately. “I’ll look after you.”
“You?” was all Letitia Blacklock said, but the disillusionment behind the word was almost an accusation8.
That had been shortly before dinner, and Mitzi had then created a diversion by coming and declaring that she wasnot going to cook the dinner.
“I do not do anything more in this house. I go to my room. I lock myself in. I stay there until it is daylight. I amafraid—people are being killed—that Miss Murgatroyd with her stupid English face—who would want to kill her?
Only a maniac9! Then it is a maniac that is about! And a maniac does not care who he kills. But me, I do not want to bekilled. There are shadows in the kitchen—and I hear noises—I think there is someone out in the yard and then I think Isee a shadow by the larder10 door and then it is footsteps I hear. So I go now to my room and I lock the door and perhapseven I put the chest of drawers against it. And in the morning I tell that cruel hard policeman that I go away from here.
And if he will not let me I say: ‘I scream and I scream and I scream until you have to let me go!’”
Everybody, with a vivid recollection of what Mitzi could do in the screaming line, shuddered11 at the threat.
“So I go to my room,” said Mitzi, repeating the statement once more to make her intentions quite clear. With asymbolic action she cast off the cretonne apron12 she had been wearing. “Good night, Miss Blacklock. Perhaps in themorning, you may not be alive. So in case that is so, I say good-bye.”
She departed abruptly13 and the door, with its usual gentle little whine14, closed softly after her.
Julia got up.
“I’ll see to dinner,” she said in a matter-of-fact way. “Rather a good arrangement—less embarrassing for you allthan having me sit down at table with you. Patrick (since he’s constituted himself your protector, Aunt Letty) hadbetter taste every dish first. I don’t want to be accused of poisoning you on top of everything else.”
So Julia had cooked and served a really excellent meal.
Phillipa had come out to the kitchen with an offer of assistance but Julia had said firmly that she didn’t want anyhelp.
“Julia, there’s something I want to say—”
“This is no time for girlish confidences,” said Julia firmly. “Go on back in the dining room, Phillipa.”
Now dinner was over and they were in the drawing room with coffee on the small table by the fire—and nobodyseemed to have anything to say. They were waiting—that was all.
At 8:30 Inspector Craddock rang up.
“I shall be with you in about a quarter of an hour’s time,” he announced. “I’m bringing Colonel and Mrs.
Easterbrook and Mrs. Swettenham and her son with me.”
“But really, Inspector … I can’t cope with people tonight—”
Miss Blacklock’s voice sounded as though she were at the end of her tether.
“I know how you feel, Miss Blacklock. I’m sorry. But this is urgent.”
“Have you—found Miss Marple?”
“No,” said the Inspector, and rang off.
Julia took the coffee tray out to the kitchen where, to her surprise, she found Mitzi contemplating16 the piled-updishes and plates by the sink.
Mitzi burst into a torrent17 of words.
“See what you do in my so nice kitchen! That frying pan—only, only for omelettes do I use it! And you, what haveyou used it for?”
“Frying onions.”
“Ruined—ruined. It will have now to be washed and never—never—do I wash my omelette pan. I rub it carefullyover with a greasy18 newspaper, that is all. And this saucepan here that you have used—that one, I use him only for milk—”
“Well, I don’t know what pans you use for what,” said Julia crossly. “You choose to go to bed and why on earthyou’ve chosen to get up again, I can’t imagine. Go away again and leave me to wash up in peace.”
“No, I will not let you use my kitchen.”
“Oh, Mitzi, you are impossible!”
Julia stalked angrily out of the kitchen and at that moment the doorbell rang.
“I do not go to the door,” Mitzi called from the kitchen. Julia muttered an impolite Continental19 expression underher breath and stalked to the front door.
It was Miss Hinchcliffe.
“’Evening,” she said in her gruff voice. “Sorry to barge20 in. Inspector’s rung up, I expect?”
“He didn’t tell us you were coming,” said Julia, leading the way to the drawing room.
“He said I needn’t come unless I liked,” said Miss Hinchcliffe. “But I do like.”
Nobody offered Miss Hinchcliffe sympathy or mentioned Miss Murgatroyd’s death. The ravaged21 face of the tallvigorous woman told its own tale, and would have made any expression of sympathy an impertinence.
“Turn all the lights on,” said Miss Blacklock. “And put more coal on the fire. I’m cold—horribly cold. Come andsit here by the fire, Miss Hinchcliffe. The Inspector said he would be here in a quarter of an hour. It must be nearly thatnow.”
“Mitzi’s come down again,” said Julia.
“Has she? Sometimes I think that girl’s mad—quite mad. But then perhaps we’re all mad.”
“I’ve no patience with this saying that all people who commit crimes are mad,” barked Miss Hinchcliffe. “Horriblyand intelligently sane—that’s what I think a criminal is!”
The sound of a car was heard outside and presently Craddock came in with Colonel and Mrs. Easterbrook andEdmund and Mrs. Swettenham.
They were all curiously22 subdued23.
Colonel Easterbrook said in a voice that was like an echo of his usual tones:
“Ha! A good fire.”
Mrs. Easterbrook wouldn’t take off her fur coat and sat down close to her husband. Her face, usually pretty andrather vapid24, was like a little pinched weasel face. Edmund was in one of his furious moods and scowled25 at everybody.
Mrs. Swettenham made what was evidently a great effort, and which resulted in a kind of parody26 of herself.
“It’s awful—isn’t it?” she said conversationally27. “Everything, I mean. And really the less one says, the better.
Because one doesn’t know who next—like the Plague. Dear Miss Blacklock, don’t you think you ought to have a littlebrandy? Just half a wineglass even? I always think there’s nothing like brandy—such a wonderful stimulant28. I—itseems so terrible of us—forcing our way in here like this, but Inspector Craddock made us come. And it seems soterrible—she hasn’t been found, you know. That poor old thing from the Vicarage, I mean. Bunch Harmon is nearlyfrantic. Nobody knows where she went instead of going home. She didn’t come to us. I’ve not even seen her today.
And I should know if she had come to the house because I was in the drawing room—at the back, you know, andEdmund was in his study writing—and that’s at the front—so if she’d come either way we should have seen. And oh, Ido hope and pray that nothing has happened to that dear sweet old thing—all her faculties29 still and everything.”
“Mother,” said Edmund in a voice of acute suffering, “can’t you shut up?”
“I’m sure, dear, I don’t want to say a word,” said Mrs. Swettenham, and sat down on the sofa by Julia.
Inspector Craddock stood near the door. Facing him, almost in a row, were the three women. Julia and Mrs.
Swettenham on the sofa. Mrs. Easterbrook on the arm of her husband’s chair. He had not brought about thisarrangement, but it suited him very well.
Miss Blacklock and Miss Hinchcliffe were crouching30 over the fire. Edmund stood near them. Phillipa was far backin the shadows.
Craddock began without preamble31.
“You all know that Miss Murgatroyd’s been killed,” he began. “We’ve reason to believe that the person who killedher was a woman. And for certain other reasons we can narrow it down still more. I’m about to ask certain ladies hereto account for what they were doing between the hours of four and four-twenty this afternoon. I have already had anaccount of her movements from—from the young lady who has been calling herself Miss Simmons. I will ask her torepeat that statement. At the same time, Miss Simmons, I must caution you that you need not answer if you think youranswers may incriminate you, and anything you say will be taken down by Constable32 Edwards and may be used asevidence in court.”
“You have to say that, don’t you?” said Julia. She was rather pale, but composed. “I repeat that between four andfour-thirty I was walking along the field leading down to the brook15 by Compton Farm. I came back to the road by thatfield with three poplars in it. I didn’t meet anyone as far as I can remember. I did not go near Boulders.”
“Mrs. Swettenham?”
Edmund said, “Are you cautioning all of us?”
The Inspector turned to him.
“No. At the moment only Miss Simmons. I have no reason to believe that any other statement made will beincriminating, but anyone, of course, is entitled to have a solicitor33 present and to refuse to answer questions unless heis present.”
“Oh, but that would be very silly and a complete waste of time,” cried Mrs. Swettenham. “I’m sure I can tell you atonce exactly what I was doing. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Shall I begin now?”
“Yes, please, Mrs. Swettenham.”
“Now, let me see.” Mrs. Swettenham closed her eyes, opened them again. “Of course I had nothing at all to dowith killing34 Miss Murgatroyd. I’m sure everybody here knows that. But I’m a woman of the world, I know quite wellthat the police have to ask all the most unnecessary questions and write the answers down very carefully, because it’sall for what they call ‘the record.’ That’s it, isn’t it?” Mrs. Swettenham flashed the question at the diligent35 ConstableEdwards, and added graciously, “I’m not going too fast for you, I hope?”
Constable Edwards, a good shorthand writer, but with little social savoir faire, turned red to the ears and replied:
“It’s quite all right, madam. Well, perhaps a little slower would be better.”
Mrs. Swettenham resumed her discourse36 with emphatic37 pauses where she considered a comma or a full stop mightbe appropriate.
“Well, of course it’s difficult to say—exactly—because I’ve not got, really, a very good sense of time. And eversince the war quite half our clocks haven’t gone at all, and the ones that do go are often either fast or slow or stopbecause we haven’t wound them up.” Mrs. Swettenham paused to let this picture of confused time sink in and thenwent on earnestly, “What I think I was doing at four o’clock was turning the heel of my sock (and for someextraordinary reason I was going round the wrong way—in purl, you know, not plain) but if I wasn’t doing that, I musthave been outside snipping38 off the dead chrysanthemums—no, that was earlier—before the rain.”
“The rain,” said the Inspector, “started at 4:10 exactly.”
“Did it now? That helps a lot. Of course, I was upstairs putting a wash basin in the passage where the rain alwayscomes through. And it was coming through so fast that I guessed at once that the gutter39 was stopped up again. So Icame down and got my mackintosh and rubber boots. I called Edmund, but he didn’t answer, so I thought perhapshe’d got to a very important place in his novel and I wouldn’t disturb him, and I’ve done it quite often myself before.
With the broom handle, you know, tied on to that long thing you push up windows with.”
“You mean,” said Craddock, noting bewilderment on his subordinate’s face, “that you were cleaning out thegutter?”
“Yes, it was all choked up with leaves. It took a long time and I got rather wet, but I got it clear at last. And then Iwent in and got changed and washed—so smelly, dead leaves—and then I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
It was 6:15 by the kitchen clock.”
Constable Edwards blinked.
“Which means,” finished Mrs. Swettenham triumphantly, “that it was exactly twenty minutes to five.”
“Or near enough,” she added.
“Did anybody see what you were doing whilst you were out cleaning the gutter?”
“No, indeed,” said Mrs. Swettenham. “I’d soon have roped them in to help if they had! It’s a most difficult thing todo single-handed.”
“So, by your own statement, you were outside, in a mackintosh and boots, at the time when the rain was comingdown, and according to you, you were employed during that time in cleaning out a gutter but you have no one who cansubstantiate that statement?”
“You can look at the gutter,” said Mrs. Swettenham. “It’s beautifully clear.”
“Did you hear your mother call to you, Mr. Swettenham?”
“No,” said Edmund. “I was fast asleep.”
“Edmund,” said his mother reproachfully, “I thought you were writing.”
Inspector Craddock turned to Mrs. Easterbrook.
“Now, Mrs. Easterbrook?”
“I was sitting with Archie in his study,” said Mrs. Easterbrook, fixing wide innocent eyes on him. “We werelistening to the wireless40 together, weren’t we, Archie?”
There was a pause. Colonel Easterbrook was very red in the face. He took his wife’s hand in his.
“You don’t understand these things, kitten,” he said. “I—well, I must say, Inspector, you’ve rather sprung thisbusiness on us. My wife, you know, has been terribly upset by all this. She’s nervous and highly strung and doesn’tappreciate the importance of—of taking due consideration before she makes a statement.”
“Archie,” cried Mrs. Easterbrook reproachfully, “are you going to say you weren’t with me?”
“Well, I wasn’t, was I, my dear? I mean one’s got to stick to the facts. Very important in this sort of inquiry41. I wastalking to Lampson, the farmer at Croft End, about some chicken netting. That was about a quarter to four. I didn’t gethome until after the rain had stopped. Just before tea. A quarter to five. Laura was toasting the scones42.”
“And had you been out also, Mrs. Easterbrook?”
The pretty face looked more like a weasel’s than ever. Her eyes had a trapped look.
“No—no, I just sat listening to the wireless. I didn’t go out. Not then. I’d been out earlier. About—about half pastthree. Just for a little walk. Not far.”
She looked as though she expected more questions, but Craddock said quietly:
“That’s all, Mrs. Easterbrook.”
He went on: “These statements will be typed out. You can read them and sign them if they are substantiallycorrect.”
Mrs. Easterbrook looked at him with sudden venom43.
“Why don’t you ask the others where they were? That Haymes woman? And Edmund Swettenham? How do youknow he was asleep indoors? Nobody saw him.”
Inspector Craddock said quietly:
“Miss Murgatroyd, before she died, made a certain statement. On the night of the hold-up here, someone wasabsent from this room. Someone who was supposed to have been in the room all the time. Miss Murgatroyd told herfriend the names of the people she did see. By a process of elimination44, she made the discovery that there wassomeone she did not see.”
“Nobody could see anything,” said Julia.
“Murgatroyd could,” said Miss Hinchcliffe, speaking suddenly in her deep voice. “She was over there behind thedoor, where Inspector Craddock is now. She was the only person who could see anything of what was happening.”
“Aha! That is what you think, is it!” demanded Mitzi.
She made one of her dramatic entrances, flinging open the door and almost knocking Craddock sideways. She wasin a frenzy45 of excitement.
“Ah, you do not ask Mitzi to come in here with the others, do you, you stiff policemen? I am only Mitzi! Mitzi inthe kitchen! Let her stay in the kitchen where she belongs! But I tell you that Mitzi, as well as anyone else, andperhaps better, yes, better, can see things. Yes, I see things. I see something the night of the burglary. I see somethingand I do not quite believe it, and I hold my tongue till now. I think to myself I will not tell what it is I have seen, notyet. I will wait.”
“And when everything had calmed down, you meant to ask for a little money from a certain person, eh?” saidCraddock.
Mitzi turned on him like an angry cat.
“And why not? Why look down your nose? Why should I not be paid for it if I have been so generous as to keepsilence? Especially if some day there will be money—much much money. Oh! I have heard things—I know what goeson. I know this Pippemmer—this secret society of which she”—she flung a dramatic finger towards Julia—“is anagent. Yes, I would have waited and asked for money—but now I am afraid. I would rather be safe. For soon, perhaps,someone will kill me. So I will tell what I know.”
“All right then,” said the Inspector sceptically. “What do you know?”
“I tell you.” Mitzi spoke46 solemnly. “On that night I am not in the pantry cleaning silver as I say—I am already inthe dining room when I hear the gun go off. I look through the keyhole. The hall it is black, but the gun go off againand the torch it falls—and it swings round as it falls—and I see her. I see her there close to him with the gun in herhand. I see Miss Blacklock.”
“Me?” Miss Blacklock sat up in astonishment47. “You must be mad!”
“But that’s impossible,” cried Edmund. “Mitzi couldn’t have seen Miss Blacklock.”
Craddock cut in and his voice had the corrosive48 quality of a deadly acid.
“Couldn’t she, Mr. Swettenham? And why not? Because it wasn’t Miss Blacklock who was standing49 there with thegun? It was you, wasn’t it?”
“I—of course not—what the hell!”
“You took Colonel Easterbrook’s revolver. You fixed50 up the business with Rudi Scherz—as a good joke. You hadfollowed Patrick Simmons into the far room and when the lights went out, you slipped out through the carefully oileddoor. You shot at Miss Blacklock and then you killed Rudi Scherz. A few seconds later you were back in the drawingroom clicking your lighter51.”
For a moment Edmund seemed at a loss for words, then he spluttered out:
“The whole idea is monstrous52. Why me? What earthly motive53 had I got?”
“If Miss Blacklock dies before Mrs. Goedler, two people inherit, remember. The two we know of as Pip andEmma. Julia Simmons has turned out to be Emma—”
“And you think I’m Pip?” Edmund laughed. “Fantastic—absolutely fantastic! I’m about the right age—nothingelse. And I can prove to you, you damned fool, that I am Edmund Swettenham. Birth certificate, schools, university—everything.”
“He isn’t Pip.” The voice came from the shadows in the corner. Phillipa Haymes came forward, her face pale. “I’mPip, Inspector.”
“You, Mrs. Haymes?”
“Yes. Everybody seems to have assumed that Pip was a boy—Julia knew, of course, that her twin was another girl—I don’t know why she didn’t say so this afternoon—”
“Family solidarity,” said Julia. “I suddenly realized who you were. I’d had no idea till that moment.”
“I’d had the same idea as Julia did,” said Phillipa, her voice trembling a little. “After I—lost my husband and thewar was over, I wondered what I was going to do. My mother died many years ago. I found out about my Goedlerrelations. Mrs. Goedler was dying and at her death the money would go to a Miss Blacklock. I found out where MissBlacklock lived and I—I came here. I took a job with Mrs. Lucas. I hoped that, since this Miss Blacklock was anelderly woman without relatives, she might, perhaps, be willing to help. Not me, because I could work, but help withHarry’s education. After all, it was Goedler money and she’d no one particular of her own to spend it on.
“And then,” Phillipa spoke faster, it was as though, now her long reserve had broken down, she couldn’t get thewords out fast enough, “that hold-up happened and I began to be frightened. Because it seemed to me that the onlypossible person with a motive for killing Miss Blacklock was me. I hadn’t the least idea who Julia was—we aren’tidentical twins and we’re not much alike to look at. No, it seemed as though I was the only one bound to besuspected.”
She stopped and pushed her fair hair back from her face, and Craddock suddenly realized that the faded snapshot inthe box of letters must have been a photograph of Phillipa’s mother. The likeness54 was undeniable. He knew too whythat mention of closing and unclosing hands had seemed familiar—Phillipa was doing it now.
“Miss Blacklock has been good to me. Very very good to me—I didn’t try to kill her. I never thought of killing her.
But all the same, I’m Pip.” She added, “You see, you needn’t suspect Edmund any more.”
“Needn’t I?” said Craddock. Again there was that acid biting tone in his voice. “Edmund Swettenham’s a youngman who’s fond of money. A young man, perhaps, who would like to marry a rich wife. But she wouldn’t be a richwife unless Miss Blacklock died before Mrs. Goedler. And since it seemed almost certain that Mrs. Goedler would diebefore Miss Blacklock, well—he had to do something about it—didn’t you, Mr. Swettenham?”
“It’s a damned lie!” Edmund shouted.
And then, suddenly, a sound rose on the air. It came from the kitchen—a long unearthly shriek55 of terror.
“That isn’t Mitzi!” cried Julia.
“No,” said Inspector Craddock, “it’s someone who’s murdered three people….”
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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biding
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| v.等待，停留( bide的现在分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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ravaged
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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conversationally
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stimulant
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| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
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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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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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diligent
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| adj.勤勉的，勤奋的 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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snipping
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| n.碎片v.剪( snip的现在分词 ) | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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elimination
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| n.排除，消除，消灭 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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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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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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