THE THUMB MARK OF ST . PETER
“ A nd now, Aunt Jane, it is up to you,” said Raymond West.
“Yes, Aunt Jane, we are expecting something really spicy,” chimed in Joyce Lemprière.
“Now, you are laughing at me, my dears,” said Miss Marple placidly1. “You think that because I have lived in thisout-of-the-way spot all my life I am not likely to have had any very interesting experiences.”
“God forbid that I should ever regard village life as peaceful and uneventful,” said Raymond with fervour. “Notafter the horrible revelations we have heard from you! The cosmopolitan2 world seems a mild and peaceful placecompared with St. Mary Mead3.”
“Well, my dear,” said Miss Marple, “human nature is much the same everywhere, and, of course, one hasopportunities of observing it at close quarters in a village.”
“You really are unique, Aunt Jane,” cried Joyce. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you Aunt Jane?” she added. “Idon’t know why I do it.”
“Don’t you, my dear?” said Miss Marple.
She looked up for a moment or two with something quizzical in her glance, which made the blood flame to thegirl’s cheeks. Raymond West fidgeted and cleared his throat in a somewhat embarrassed manner.
Miss Marple looked at them both and smiled again, and bent4 her attention once more to her knitting.
“It is true, of course, that I have lived what is called a very uneventful life, but I have had a lot of experience insolving different little problems that have arisen. Some of them have been really quite ingenious, but it would be nogood telling them to you, because they are about such unimportant things that you would not be interested—just thingslike: Who cut the meshes5 of Mrs. Jones’s string bag? and why Mrs. Sims only wore her new fur coat once. Veryinteresting things, really, to any student of human nature. No, the only experience I can remember that would be ofinterest to you is the one about my poor niece Mabel’s husband.
“It is about ten or fifteen years ago now, and happily it is all over and done with, and everyone has forgotten aboutit. People’s memories are very short—a lucky thing, I always think.”
Miss Marple paused and murmured to herself:
“I must just count this row. The decreasing is a little awkward. One, two, three, four, five, and then three purl; thatis right. Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes, about poor Mabel.
“Mabel was my niece. A nice girl, really a very nice girl, but just a trifle what one might call silly. Rather fond ofbeing melodramatic and of saying a great deal more than she meant whenever she was upset. She married a Mr.
Denman when she was twenty-two, and I am afraid it was not a very happy marriage. I had hoped very much that theattachment would not come to anything, for Mr. Denman was a man of very violent temper—not the kind of man whowould be patient with Mabel’s foibles—and I also learned that there was insanity6 in his family. However, girls werejust as obstinate7 then as they are now, and as they always will be. And Mabel married him.
“I didn’t see very much of her after her marriage. She came to stay with me once or twice, and they asked me thereseveral times, but, as a matter of fact, I am not very fond of staying in other people’s houses, and I always managed tomake some excuse. They had been married ten years when Mr. Denman died suddenly. There were no children, andhe left all his money to Mabel. I wrote, of course, and offered to come to Mabel if she wanted me; but she wrote backa very sensible letter, and I gathered that she was not altogether overwhelmed by grief. I thought that was only natural,because I knew they had not been getting on together for some time. It was not until about three months afterwardsthat I got a most hysterical8 letter from Mabel, begging me to come to her, and saying that things were going from badto worse, and she couldn’t stand it much longer.
“So, of course,” continued Miss Marple, “I put Clara on board wages and sent the plate and the King Charlestankard to the bank, and I went off at once. I found Mabel in a very nervous state. The house, Myrtle Dene, was afairly large one, very comfortably furnished. There was a cook and a house-parlourmaid as well as a nurse-attendant tolook after old Mr. Denman, Mabel’s husband’s father, who was what is called ‘not quite right in the head.’ Quitepeaceful and well-behaved, but distinctly odd at times. As I say, there was insanity in the family.
“I was really shocked to see the change in Mabel. She was a mass of nerves, twitching9 all over, yet I had thegreatest difficulty in making her tell me what the trouble was. I got at it, as one always does get at these things,indirectly. I asked her about some friends of hers she was always mentioning in her letters, the Gallaghers. She said, tomy surprise, that she hardly ever saw them nowadays. Other friends whom I mentioned elicited10 the same remark. Ispoke to her then of the folly12 of shutting herself up and brooding, and especially of the silliness of cutting herself adriftfrom her friends. Then she came bursting out with the truth.
“‘It is not my doing, it is theirs. There is not a soul in the place who will speak to me now. When I go down theHigh Street they all get out of the way so that they shan’t have to meet me or speak to me. I am like a kind of leper. Itis awful, and I can’t bear it any longer. I shall have to sell the house and go abroad. Yet why should I be driven awayfrom a home like this? I have done nothing.’
“I was more disturbed than I can tell you. I was knitting a comforter for old Mrs. Hay at the time, and in myperturbation I dropped two stitches and never discovered it until long after.
“‘My dear Mabel,’ I said, ‘you amaze me. But what is the cause of all this?’
“Even as a child Mabel was always difficult. I had the greatest difficulty in getting her to give me a straightforwardanswer to my question. She would only say vague things about wicked talk and idle people who had nothing better todo than gossip, and people who put ideas into other people’s heads.
“‘That is all quite clear to me,’ I said. ‘There is evidently some story being circulated about you. But what thatstory is you must know as well as anyone. And you are going to tell me.’
“‘It is so wicked,’ moaned Mabel.
“‘Of course it is wicked,’ I said briskly. ‘There is nothing that you can tell me about people’s minds that wouldastonish or surprise me. Now, Mabel, will you tell me in plain English what people are saying about you?’
“Then it all came out.
“It seemed that Geoffrey Denman’s death, being quite sudden and unexpected, gave rise to various rumours13. Infact—and in plain English as I had put it to her—people were saying that she had poisoned her husband.
“Now, as I expect you know, there is nothing more cruel than talk, and there is nothing more difficult to combat.
When people say things behind your back there is nothing you can refute or deny, and the rumours go on growing andgrowing, and no one can stop them. I was quite certain of one thing: Mabel was quite incapable14 of poisoning anyone.
And I didn’t see why life should be ruined for her and her home made unbearable15 just because in all probability shehad been doing something silly and foolish.
“‘There is no smoke without fire,’ I said. ‘Now, Mabel, you have got to tell me what started people off on this tack16.
There must have been something.’
“Mabel was very incoherent, and declared there was nothing—nothing at all, except, of course, that Geoffrey’sdeath had been very sudden. He had seemed quite well at supper that evening, and had taken violently ill in the night.
The doctor had been sent for, but the poor man had died a few minutes after the doctor’s arrival. Death had beenthought to be the result of eating poisoned mushrooms.
“‘Well,’ I said, ‘I suppose a sudden death of that kind might start tongues wagging, but surely not without someadditional facts. Did you have a quarrel with Geoffrey or anything of that kind?’
“She admitted that she had had a quarrel with him on the preceding morning at breakfast time.
“‘And the servants heard it, I suppose?’ I asked.
“‘They weren’t in the room.’
“‘No, my dear,’ I said, ‘but they probably were fairly near the door outside.’
“I knew the carrying power of Mabel’s high-pitched hysterical voice only too well. Geoffrey Denman, too, was aman given to raising his voice loudly when angry.
“‘What did you quarrel about?’ I asked.
“‘Oh, the usual things. It was always the same things over and over again. Some little thing would start us off, andthen Geoffrey became impossible and said abominable17 things, and I told him what I thought of him.’
“‘There had been a lot of quarrelling, then?’ I asked.
“‘It wasn’t my fault—’
“‘My dear child,’ I said, ‘it doesn’t matter whose fault it was. That is not what we are discussing. In a place likethis everybody’s private affairs are more or less public property. You and your husband were always quarrelling. Youhad a particularly bad quarrel one morning, and that night your husband died suddenly and mysteriously. Is that all, oris there anything else?’
“‘I don’t know what you mean by anything else,’ said Mabel sullenly18.
“‘Just what I say, my dear. If you have done anything silly, don’t for Heaven’s sake keep it back now. I only wantto do what I can to help you.’
“‘Nothing and nobody can help me,’ said Mabel wildly, ‘except death.’
“‘Have a little more faith in Providence19, dear,’ I said. ‘Now then, Mabel, I know perfectly20 well there is somethingelse that you are keeping back.’
“I always did know, even when she was a child, when she was not telling me the whole truth. It took a long time,but I got it out at last. She had gone down to the chemist’s that morning and had bought some arsenic21. She had had, ofcourse, to sign the book for it. Naturally, the chemist had talked.
“‘Who is your doctor?’ I asked.
“‘Dr. Rawlinson.’
“I knew him by sight. Mabel had pointed22 him out to me the other day. To put it in perfectly plain language he waswhat I would describe as an old dodderer. I have had too much experience of life to believe in the infallibility ofdoctors. Some of them are clever men and some of them are not, and half the time the best of them don’t know what isthe matter with you. I have no truck with doctors and their medicines myself.
“I thought things over, and then I put my bonnet23 on and went to call on Dr. Rawlinson. He was just what I hadthought him—a nice old man, kindly24, vague, and so shortsighted as to be pitiful, slightly deaf, and, withal, touchy25 andsensitive to the last degree. He was on his high horse at once when I mentioned Geoffrey Denman’s death, talked for along time about various kinds of fungi26, edible27 and otherwise. He had questioned the cook, and she had admitted thatone or two of the mushrooms cooked had been ‘a little queer,’ but as the shop had sent them she thought they must beall right. The more she had thought about them since, the more she was convinced that their appearance was unusual.
“‘She would be,’ I said. ‘They would start by being quite like mushrooms in appearance, and they would end bybeing orange with purple spots. There is nothing that class cannot remember if it tries.’
“I gathered that Denman had been past speech when the doctor got to him. He was incapable of swallowing, andhad died within a few minutes. The doctor seemed perfectly satisfied with the certificate he had given. But how muchof that was obstinacy28 and how much of it was genuine belief I could not be sure.
“I went straight home and asked Mabel quite frankly29 why she had bought arsenic.
“‘You must have had some idea in your mind,’ I pointed out.
“Mabel burst into tears. ‘I wanted to make away with myself,’ she moaned. ‘I was too unhappy. I thought I wouldend it all.’
“‘Have you the arsenic still?’ I asked.
“‘No, I threw it away.’
“I sat there turning things over and over in my mind.
“‘What happened when he was taken ill? Did he call you?’
“‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘He rang the bell violently. He must have rung several times. At last Dorothy, thehouse-parlourmaid, heard it, and she waked the cook up, and they came down. When Dorothy saw him she wasfrightened. He was rambling30 and delirious31. She left the cook with him and came rushing to me. I got up and went tohim. Of course I saw at once he was dreadfully ill. Unfortunately Brewster, who looks after old Mr. Denman, wasaway for the night, so there was no one who knew what to do. I sent Dorothy off for the doctor, and cook and I stayedwith him, but after a few minutes I couldn’t bear it any longer; it was too dreadful. I ran away back to my room andlocked the door.’
“‘Very selfish and unkind of you,’ I said; ‘and no doubt that conduct of yours has done nothing to help you since,you may be sure of that. Cook will have repeated it everywhere. Well, well, this is a bad business.’
“Next I spoke11 to the servants. The cook wanted to tell me about the mushrooms, but I stopped her. I was tired ofthese mushrooms. Instead, I questioned both of them very closely about their master’s condition on that night. Theyboth agreed that he seemed to be in great agony, that he was unable to swallow, and he could only speak in a strangledvoice, and when he did speak it was only rambling—nothing sensible.
“‘What did he say when he was rambling?’ I asked curiously32.
“‘Something about some fish, wasn’t it?’ turning to the other.
“Dorothy agreed.
“‘A heap of fish,’ she said; ‘some nonsense like that. I could see at once he wasn’t in his right mind, poorgentleman.’
“There didn’t seem to be any sense to be made out of that. As a last resource I went up to see Brewster, who was agaunt, middle-aged33 woman of about fifty.
“‘It is a pity that I wasn’t here that night,’ she said. ‘Nobody seems to have tried to do anything for him until thedoctor came.’
“‘I suppose he was delirious,’ I said doubtfully; ‘but that is not a symptom of ptomaine poisoning, is it?’
“‘It depends,’ said Brewster.
“I asked her how her patient was getting on.
“She shook her head.
“‘He is pretty bad,’ she said.
“‘Weak?’
“‘Oh no, he is strong enough physically—all but his eyesight. That is failing badly. He may outlive all of us, buthis mind is failing very fast now. I have already told both Mr. and Mrs. Denman that he ought to be in an institution,but Mrs. Denman wouldn’t hear of it at any price.’
“I will say for Mabel that she always had a kindly heart.
“Well, there the thing was. I thought it over in every aspect, and at last I decided34 that there was only one thing tobe done. In view of the rumours that were going about, permission must be applied35 for to exhume36 the body, and aproper postmortem must be made and lying tongues quietened once and for all. Mabel, of course, made a fuss, mostlyon sentimental37 grounds—disturbing the dead man in his peaceful grave, etc., etc.—but I was firm.
“I won’t make a long story of this part of it. We got the order and they did the autopsy38, or whatever they call it, butthe result was not so satisfactory as it might have been. There was no trace of arsenic—that was all to the good—butthe actual words of the report were that there was nothing to show by what means deceased had come to his death.
“So, you see, that didn’t lead us out of trouble altogether. People went on talking—about rare poisons impossibleto detect, and rubbish of that sort. I had seen the pathologist who had done the postmortem, and I had asked himseveral questions, though he tried his best to get out of answering most of them; but I got out of him that he consideredit highly unlikely that the poisoned mushrooms were the cause of death. An idea was simmering in my mind, and Iasked him what poison, if any, could have been employed to obtain that result. He made a long explanation to me,most of which, I must admit, I did not follow, but it amounted to this: That death might have been due to some strongvegetable alkaloid.
“The idea I had was this: Supposing the taint39 of insanity was in Geoffrey Denman’s blood also, might he not havemade away with himself? He had, at one period of his life, studied medicine, and he would have a good knowledge ofpoisons and their effects.
“I didn’t think it sounded very likely, but it was the only thing I could think of. And I was nearly at my wits’ end, Ican tell you. Now, I dare say you modern young people will laugh, but when I am in really bad trouble I always say alittle prayer to myself—anywhere, when I am walking along the street, or at a bazaar40. And I always get an answer. Itmay be some trifling41 thing, apparently42 quite unconnected with the subject, but there it is. I had that text pinned overmy bed when I was a little girl: Ask and you shall receive. On the morning that I am telling you about, I was walkingalong the High Street, and I was praying hard. I shut my eyes, and when I opened them, what do you think was thefirst thing that I saw?”
Five faces with varying degrees of interest were turned to Miss Marple. It may be safely assumed, however, thatno one would have guessed the answer to the question right.
“I saw,” said Miss Marple impressively, “the window of the fishmonger’s shop. There was only one thing in it, afresh haddock.”
She looked round triumphantly43.
“Oh, my God!” said Raymond West. “An answer to prayer—a fresh haddock!”
“Yes, Raymond,” said Miss Marple severely44, “and there is no need to be profane45 about it. The hand of God iseverywhere. The first thing I saw were the black spots—the marks of St. Peter’s thumb. That is the legend, you know.
St. Peter’s thumb. And that brought things home to me. I needed faith, the ever true faith of St. Peter. I connected thetwo things together, faith—and fish.”
Sir Henry blew his nose rather hurriedly. Joyce bit her lip.
“Now what did that bring to my mind? Of course, both the cook and house-parlourmaid mentioned fish as beingone of the things spoken of by the dying man. I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that there was some solution ofthe mystery to be found in these words. I went home determined46 to get to the bottom of the matter.”
She paused.
“Has it ever occurred to you,” the old lady went on, “how much we go by what is called, I believe, the context?
There is a place on Dartmoor called Grey Wethers. If you were talking to a farmer there and mentioned Grey Wethers,he would probably conclude that you were speaking of these stone circles, yet it is possible that you might be speakingof the atmosphere; and in the same way, if you were meaning the stone circles, an outsider, hearing a fragment of theconversation, might think you meant the weather. So when we repeat a conversation, we don’t, as a rule, repeat theactual words; we put in some other words that seem to us to mean exactly the same thing.
“I saw both the cook and Dorothy separately. I asked the cook if she was quite sure that her master had reallymentioned a heap of fish. She said she was quite sure.
“‘Were these his exact words,’ I asked, ‘or did he mention some particular kind of fish?’
“‘That’s it,’ said the cook; ‘it was some particular kind of fish, but I can’t remember what now. A heap of—nowwhat was it? Not any of the fish you send to table. Would it be a perch47 now—or pike? No. It didn’t begin with a P.’
“Dorothy also recalled that her master had mentioned some special kind of fish. ‘Some outlandish kind of fish itwas,’ she said.
“‘A pile of—now what was it?’
“‘Did he say heap or pile?’ I asked.
“‘I think he said pile. But there, I really can’t be sure—it’s so hard to remember the actual words, isn’t it, miss,especially when they don’t seem to make sense. But now I come to think of it, I am pretty sure that it was a pile, andthe fish began with C; but it wasn’t a cod48 or a crayfish.’
“The next part is where I am really proud of myself,” said Miss Marple, “because, of course, I don’t knowanything about drugs—nasty, dangerous things I call them. I have got an old recipe of my grandmother’s for tansy teathat is worth any amount of your drugs. But I knew that there were several medical volumes in the house, and in oneof them there was an index of drugs. You see, my idea was that Geoffrey had taken some particular poison, and wastrying to say the name of it.
“Well, I looked down the list of H’s, beginning He. Nothing there that sounded likely; then I began on the P’s, andalmost at once I came to—what do you think?”
She looked round, postponing49 her moment of triumph.
“Pilocarpine. Can’t you understand a man who could hardly speak trying to drag that word out? What would thatsound like to a cook who had never heard the word? Wouldn’t it convey the impression ‘pile of carp?’”
“By Jove!” said Sir Henry.
“I should never have hit upon that,” said Dr. Pender.
“Most interesting,” said Mr. Petherick. “Really most interesting.”
“I turned quickly to the page indicated in the index. I read about pilocarpine and its effect on the eyes and otherthings that didn’t seem to have any bearing on the case, but at last I came to a most significant phrase: Has been triedwith success as an antidote50 for atropine poisoning.
“I can’t tell you the light that dawned upon me then. I never had thought it likely that Geoffrey Denman wouldcommit suicide. No, this new solution was not only possible, but I was absolutely sure it was the correct one, becauseall the pieces fitted in logically.”
“I am not going to try to guess,” said Raymond. “Go on, Aunt Jane, and tell us what was so startlingly clear toyou.”
“I don’t know anything about medicine, of course,” said Miss Marple, “but I did happen to know this, that whenmy eyesight was failing, the doctor ordered me drops with atropine sulphate in them. I went straight upstairs to oldMr. Denman’s room. I didn’t beat about the bush.
“‘Mr. Denman,’ I said, ‘I know everything. Why did you poison your son?’
“He looked at me for a minute or two—rather a handsome old man he was, in his way—and then he burst outlaughing. It was one of the most vicious laughs I have ever heard. I can assure you it made my flesh creep. I had onlyheard anything like it once before, when poor Mrs. Jones went off her head.
“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I got even with Geoffrey. I was too clever for Geoffrey. He was going to put me away, was he?
Have me shut up in an asylum51? I heard them talking about it. Mabel is a good girl—Mabel stuck up for me, but I knewshe wouldn’t be able to stand up against Geoffrey. In the end he would have his own way; he always did. But I settledhim—I settled my kind, loving son! Ha, ha! I crept down in the night. It was quite easy. Brewster was away. My dearson was asleep; he had a glass of water by the side of his bed; he always woke up in the middle of the night and drankit off. I poured it away—ha, ha!—and I emptied the bottle of eyedrops into the glass. He would wake up and swill52 itdown before he knew what it was. There was only a tablespoonful of it—quite enough, quite enough. And so he did!
They came to me in the morning and broke it to me very gently. They were afraid it would upset me. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha!’
“Well,” said Miss Marple, “that is the end of the story. Of course, the poor old man was put in an asylum. Hewasn’t really responsible for what he had done, and the truth was known, and everyone was sorry for Mabel and couldnot do enough to make up to her for the unjust suspicions they had had. But if it hadn’t been for Geoffrey realizingwhat the stuff was he had swallowed and trying to get everybody to get hold of the antidote without delay, it mightnever have been found out. I believe there are very definite symptoms with atropine—dilated pupils of the eyes, andall that; but, of course, as I have said, Dr. Rawlinson was very shortsighted, poor old man. And in the same medicalbook which I went on reading—and some of it was most interesting—it gave the symptoms of ptomaine poisoning andatropine, and they are not unlike. But I can assure you I have never seen a pile of fresh haddock without thinking ofthe thumb mark of St. Peter.”
There was a very long pause.
“My dear friend,” said Mr. Petherick. “My very dear friend, you really are amazing.”
“I shall recommend Scotland Yard to come to you for advice,” said Sir Henry.
“Well, at all events, Aunt Jane,” said Raymond, “there is one thing that you don’t know.”
“Oh, yes, I do, dear,” said Miss Marple. “It happened just before dinner, didn’t it? When you took Joyce out toadmire the sunset. It is a very favourite place, that. There by the jasmine hedge. That is where the milkman askedAnnie if he could put up the banns.”
“Dash it all, Aunt Jane,” said Raymond, “don’t spoil all the romance. Joyce and I aren’t like the milkman andAnnie.”
“That is where you make a mistake, dear,” said Miss Marple. “Everybody is very much alike, really. Butfortunately, perhaps, they don’t realize it.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
placidly
|
|
| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
cosmopolitan
|
|
| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
mead
|
|
| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
meshes
|
|
| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
insanity
|
|
| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
obstinate
|
|
| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
twitching
|
|
| n.颤搐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
elicited
|
|
| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
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： |
|
|
|
|
12
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
rumours
|
|
| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
unbearable
|
|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
tack
|
|
| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
abominable
|
|
| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
arsenic
|
|
| n.砒霜，砷；adj.砷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
touchy
|
|
| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
fungi
|
|
| n.真菌，霉菌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
edible
|
|
| n.食品，食物；adj.可食用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
obstinacy
|
|
| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
rambling
|
|
| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
delirious
|
|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
exhume
|
|
| v.掘出，挖掘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
autopsy
|
|
| n.尸体解剖；尸检 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
taint
|
|
| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
bazaar
|
|
| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
profane
|
|
| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
perch
|
|
| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
cod
|
|
| n.鳕鱼；v.愚弄；哄骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
postponing
|
|
| v.延期，推迟( postpone的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
antidote
|
|
| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
swill
|
|
| v.冲洗；痛饮；n.泔脚饲料；猪食；（谈话或写作中的）无意义的话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |