I“Of course you must stay at the Consulate1,” said Mrs. Cardew Trench2.
“Nonsense, my dear—you can’t stay at the Airport Hotel. The Claytons willbe delighted. I’ve known them for years. We’ll send a wire and you can godown on tonight’s train. They know Dr. Pauncefoot Jones quite well.”
Victoria had the grace to blush. The Bishop3 of Llangow, alias4 the Bishopof Languao was one thing, a real flesh and blood Dr. Pauncefoot Jones wasquite another.
“I suppose,” thought Victoria guiltily, “I could be sent to prison for that—false pretences5 or something.”
Then she cheered herself up by reflecting that it was only if you attemp-ted to obtain money by false statements that the rigours of the law wereset in motion. Whether this was really so or not, Victoria did not know, be-ing as ignorant of the law as most average people, but it had a cheeringsound.
The train journey had all the fascination6 of novelty—to Victoria’s ideathe train was hardly an express—but she had begun to feel conscious ofher Western impatience7.
A Consular8 car met her at the station and she was driven to the Consu-late. The car drove in through big gates into a delightful9 garden and drewup before a flight of steps leading up to a balcony surrounding the house.
Mrs. Clayton, a smiling energetic woman, came through the swinging wiremesh door to meet her.
“We’re so pleased to see you,” she said. “Basrah’s really delightful thistime of year and you oughtn’t to leave Iraq without seeing it. Luckilythere’s no one much here just at the moment—sometimes we just don’tknow where to turn so as to fit people in, but there’s no one here now ex-cept Dr. Rathbone’s young man who’s quite charming. You’ve just missedRichard Baker10, by the way. He left before I got Mrs. Cardew Trench’s tele-gram.”
Victoria had no idea who Richard Baker was—but it seemed fortunatehe had left when he did.
“He had been down to Kuwait for a couple of days,” continued Mrs.
Clayton. “Now, that’s a place you ought to see—before it’s spoilt. I dare sayit soon will be. Every place gets ruined sooner or later. What would youlike first—a bath or some coffee?”
“A bath, please,” said Victoria gratefully.
“How’s Mrs. Cardew Trench? This is your room and the bathroom’salong here. Is she an old friend of yours?”
“Oh no,” said Victoria truthfully. “I’ve only just met her.”
“And I suppose she turned you inside out in the first quarter of an hour?
She’s a terrific gossip as I expect you’ve gathered. Got quite a mania12 forknowing all about everybody. But she’s quite good company and a reallyfirst-class bridge player. Now are you sure you wouldn’t like some coffeeor something first?”
“No, really.”
“Good—then I’ll see you later. Have you got everything you want?”
Mrs. Clayton buzzed away like a cheerful bee, and Victoria took a bath,and attended to her face and her hair with the meticulous13 care of a youngwoman who is shortly going to be reunited to a young man who has takenher fancy.
If possible, Victoria hoped to meet Edward alone. She did not think thathe would make any tactless remarks—fortunately he knew her as Jonesand the additional Pauncefoot would probably cause him no surprise. Thesurprise would be that she was in Iraq at all, and for that Victoria hopedthat she could catch him alone even for a bare second or two.
With this end in view, when she had put on a summer frock (for to herthe climate of Basrah recalled a June day in London) she slipped outquietly through the wire door and took up her position on the balconywhere she could intercept14 Edward when he arrived back from whateverhe was doing—wrestling with the Customs officials, she presumed.
The first arrival was a tall thin man with a thoughtful face, and as hecame up the steps Victoria slipped round the corner of the balcony. As shedid so, she actually saw Edward entering through a garden door that gaveon to the riverbend.
Faithful to the tradition of Juliet, Victoria leaned over the balcony andgave a prolonged hiss15.
Edward (who was looking, Victoria thought, more attractive than ever)turned his head sharply, looking about him.
“Hist! Up here,” called Victoria in a low voice.
Edward raised his head, and an expression of utter astonishment16 ap-peared on his face.
“Good Lord,” he exclaimed. “It’s Charing17 Cross!”
“Hush. Wait for me. I’m coming down.”
Victoria sped round the balcony, down the steps and along round thecorner of the house to where Edward had remained obediently standing18,the expression of bewilderment still on his face.
“I can’t be drunk so early in the day,” said Edward. “It is you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” said Victoria happily and ungrammatically.
“But what are you doing here? How did you get here? I thought I wasnever going to see you again.”
“I thought so too.”
“It’s really just like a miracle. How did you get here?”
“I flew.”
“Naturally you flew. You couldn’t have got here in time, otherwise. But Imean what blessed and wonderful chance brought you to Basrah?”
“The train,” said Victoria.
“You’re doing it on purpose, you little brute19. God, I’m pleased to see you.
But how did you get here—really?”
“I came out with a woman who’d broken her arm—a Mrs. Clipp, anAmerican. I was offered the job the day after I met you, and you’d talkedabout Baghdad, and I was a bit fed up with London, so I thought, well whynot see the world?”
“You really are awfully20 sporting, Victoria. Where’s this Clipp woman,here?”
“No, she’s gone to a daughter near Kirkuk. It was only a journey-outjob.”
“Then what are you doing now?”
“I’m still seeing the world,” said Victoria. “But it has required a few sub-terfuges. That’s why I wanted to get at you before we met in public, Imean, I don’t want any tactless references to my being a shorthand typistout of a job when you last saw me.”
“As far as I’m concerned you’re anything you say you are. I’m ready forbriefing.”
“The idea is,” said Victoria, “that I am Miss Pauncefoot Jones. My uncle isan eminent21 archaeologist who is excavating22 in some more or less inaccess-ible place out here, and I am joining him shortly.”
“And none of that is true?”
“Naturally not. But it makes quite a good story.”
“Oh yes, excellent. But suppose you and old Pussyfoot Jones come face toface?”
“Pauncefoot. I don’t think that is likely. As far as I can make out once ar-chaeologists start to dig, they go on digging like mad, and don’t stop.”
“Rather like terriers. I say, there’s a lot in what you say. Has he got areal niece?”
“How should I know?” said Victoria.
“Oh, then you’re not impersonating anybody in particular. That makes iteasier.”
“Yes, after all, a man can have lots of nieces. Or, at a pinch, I could sayI’m only a cousin but that I always call him uncle.”
“You think of everything,” said Edward admiringly. “You really are anamazing girl, Victoria. I’ve never met anyone like you. I thought I wouldn’tsee you again for years, and when I did see you, you’d have forgotten allabout me. And now here you are.”
The admiring and humble23 glance which Edward cast on her caused Vic-toria intense satisfaction. If she had been a cat she would have purred.
“But you’ll want a job, won’t you?” said Edward. “I mean, you haven’tcome into a fortune or anything?”
“Far from it! Yes,” said Victoria slowly, “I shall want a job. I went intoyour Olive Branch place, as a matter of fact, and saw Dr. Rathbone andasked him for a job, but he wasn’t very responsive—not to a salaried job,that is.”
“The old beggar’s fairly tight with his money,” said Edward. “His idea isthat everybody comes and works for the love of the thing.”
“Do you think he’s a phoney, Edward?”
“N-o. I don’t know exactly what I do think. I don’t see how he can beanything but on the square—he doesn’t make any money out of the show.
So far as I can see all that terrific enthusiasm must be genuine. And yet,you know, I don’t really feel he’s a fool.”
“We’d better go in,” said Victoria. “We can talk later.”
II
“I’d no idea you and Edward knew each other,” exclaimed Mrs. Clayton.
“Oh we’re old friends,” laughed Victoria. “Only, as a matter of fact, we’dlost sight of each other. I’d no idea Edward was in this country.”
Mr. Clayton, who was the quiet thoughtful- looking man Victoria hadseen coming up the steps, asked:
“How did you get on this morning, Edward? Any progress?”
“It seems very uphill work, sir. The cases of books are there, all presentand correct, but the formalities needed to clear them seem unending.”
Clayton smiled.
“You’re new to the delaying tactics of the East.”
“The particular official who’s wanted, always seems to be away thatday,” complained Edward. “Everyone is very pleasant and willing—onlynothing seems to happen.”
Everyone laughed and Mrs. Clayton said consolingly:
“You’ll get them through in the end. Very wise of Dr. Rathbone to sendsomeone down personally. Otherwise they’d probably stay here formonths.”
“Since Palestine, they are very suspicious about bombs. Also subversiveliterature. They suspect everything.”
“Dr. Rathbone isn’t shipping24 bombs out here disguised as books, I hope,”
said Mrs. Clayton, laughing.
Victoria thought she caught a sudden flicker25 in Edward’s eye, as thoughMrs. Clayton’s remark had opened up a new line of thought.
Clayton said, with a hint of reproof26: “Dr. Rathbone’s a very learned andwell-known man, my dear. He’s a Fellow of various important Societiesand is known and respected all over Europe.”
“That would make it all the easier for him to smuggle27 in bombs,” Mrs.
Clayton pointed28 with irrepressible spirits.
Victoria could see that Gerald Clayton did not quite like this lightheartedsuggestion.
He frowned at his wife.
Business being at a standstill during the midday hours, Edward and Vic-toria went out together after lunch to stroll about and see the sights. Vic-toria was delighted with the river, the Shatt el Arab, with its bordering ofdate palm groves29. She adored the Venetian look of the high-prowed Arabboats tied up in the canal in the town. Then they wandered into the soukand looked at Kuwait bride-chests studded with patterned brass30 and otherattractive merchandise.
It was not until they turned towards the Consulate and Edward was pre-paring himself to assail31 the Customs department once more that Victoriasaid suddenly:
“Edward, what’s your name?”
Edward stared at her.
“What on earth do you mean, Victoria?”
“Your last name. Don’t you realize that I don’t know it.”
“Don’t you? No, I suppose you don’t. It’s Goring32.”
“Edward Goring. You’ve no idea what a fool I felt going into that OliveBranch place and wanting to ask for you and not knowing anything butEdward.”
“Was there a dark girl there? Rather long bobbed hair?”
“Yes.”
“That’s Catherine. She’s awfully nice. If you’d said Edward she’d haveknown at once.”
“I dare say she would,” said Victoria with reserve.
“She’s a frightfully nice girl. Didn’t you think so?”
“Oh quite….”
“Not actually good-looking—in fact nothing much to look at, but she’sfrightfully sympathetic.”
“Is she?” Victoria’s voice was now quite glacial—but Edward apparentlynoticed nothing.
“I don’t really know what I should have done without her. She put me inthe picture and helped me out when I might have made a fool of myself.
I’m sure you and she will be great friends.”
“I don’t suppose we shall have the opportunity.”
“Oh yes, you will. I’m going to get you a job in the show.”
“How are you going to manage that?”
“I don’t know but I shall manage it somehow. Tell old Rattle-bones whata wonderful typist et cetera you are.”
“He’ll soon find out that I’m not,” said Victoria.
“Anyway, I shall get you into the Olive Branch somehow. I’m not goingto have you beetling33 round on your own. Next thing I know, you’d beheading for Burma or darkest Africa. No, young Victoria, I’m going to haveyou right under my eyes. I’m not going to take any chances on your run-ning out on me. I don’t trust you an inch. You’re too fond of seeing theworld.”
“You sweet idiot,” thought Victoria, “don’t you know wild horseswouldn’t drive me away from Baghdad!”
Aloud she said: “Well, it would be quite fun to have a job at the OliveBranch.”
“I wouldn’t describe it as fun. It’s all terribly earnest. As well as beingabsolutely goofy.”
“And you still think there’s something wrong about it?”
“Oh, that was only a wild idea of mine.”
“No,” said Victoria thoughtfully, “I don’t think it was only a wild idea. Ithink it’s true.”
Edward turned on her sharply.
“What makes you say that?”
“Something I heard—from a friend of mine.”
“Who was it?”
“Just a friend.”
“Girls like you have too many friends,” grumbled34 Edward. “You are adevil, Victoria. I love you madly and you don’t care a bit.”
“Oh yes, I do,” said Victoria. “Just a little bit.”
Then, concealing35 her delighted satisfaction, she asked:
“Edward, is there anyone called Lefarge connected with the OliveBranch or with anything else?”
“Lefarge?” Edward looked puzzled. “No, I don’t think so, Who is he?”
Victoria pursued her inquiries36.
“Or anyone called Anna Scheele?”
This time Edward’s reaction was very different. He turned on her ab-ruptly, caught her by the arm and said:
“What do you know about Anna Scheele?”
“Ow! Edward, let go! I don’t know anything about her. I just wanted toknow if you did.”
“Where did you hear about her? Mrs. Clipp?”
“No—not Mrs. Clipp—at least I don’t think so, but actually she talked sofast and so unendingly about everyone and everything that I probablywouldn’t remember if she mentioned her.”
“But what made you think this Anna Scheele had anything to do withthe Olive Branch?”
“Has she?”
Edward said slowly, “I don’t know…It’s all so—so vague.”
They were standing outside the garden door to the Consulate. Edwardglanced at his watch. “I must go and do my stuff,” he said. “Wish I knewsome Arabic. But we’ve got to get together, Victoria. There’s a lot I want toknow.”
“There’s a lot I want to tell you,” said Victoria.
Some tender heroine of a more sentimental37 age might have sought tokeep her man out of danger. Not so, Victoria. Men, in Victoria’s opinion,were born to danger as the sparks fly upwards38. Edward wouldn’t thankher for keeping him out of things. And, on reflection, she was quite certainthat Mr. Dakin hadn’t intended her to keep him out of things.
III
At sunset that evening Edward and Victoria walked together in the Con-sulate garden. In deference39 to Mrs. Clayton’s insistence40 that the weatherwas wintry Victoria wore a woollen coat over her summer frock. The sun-set was magnificent but neither of the young people noticed it. They werediscussing more important things.
“It began quite simply,” said Victoria, “with a man coming into my roomat the Tio Hotel and getting stabbed.”
It was not, perhaps, most people’s idea of a simple beginning. Edwardstared at her and said: “Getting what?”
“Stabbed,” said Victoria. “At least I think it was stabbed, but it mighthave been shot only I don’t think so because then I would have heard thenoise of the shot. Anyway,” she added, “he was dead.”
“How could he come into your room if he was dead?”
“Oh Edward, don’t be stupid.”
Alternately baldly and vaguely41, Victoria told her story. For some myster-ious reason Victoria could never tell of truthful11 occurrences in a dramaticfashion. Her narrative42 was halting and incomplete and she told it with theair of one offering a palpable fabrication.
When she had come to the end, Edward looked at her doubtfully andsaid, “You do feel all right, Victoria, don’t you? I mean you haven’t had atouch of the sun or—a dream, or anything?”
“Of course not.”
“Because, I mean, it seems such an absolutely impossible thing to havehappened.”
“Well, it did happen,” said Victoria touchily43.
“And all that melodramatic stuff about world forces and mysterioussecret installations in the heart of Tibet or Baluchistan. I mean, all thatsimply couldn’t be true. Things like that don’t happen.”
“That’s what people always say before they’ve happened.”
“Honest to God, Charing Cross—are you making all this up?”
“No!” cried Victoria, exasperated44.
“And you’ve come down here looking for someone called Lefarge andsomeone called Anna Scheele—”
“Whom you’ve heard of yourself,” Victoria put in. “You had heard of herhadn’t you?”
“I’d heard the name—yes.”
“How? Where? At the Olive Branch?”
Edward was silent for some moments, then said:
“I don’t know if it means anything. It was just—odd—”
“Go on. Tell me.”
“You see, Victoria. I’m so different from you. I’m not as sharp as you are.
I just feel, in a queer kind of way, that things are wrong somehow—I don’tknow why I think so. You spot things as you go along and deduce thingsfrom them. I’m not clever enough for that. I just feel vaguely that thingsare—well—wrong—but I don’t know why.”
“I feel like that sometimes, too,” said Victoria. “Like Sir Rupert on thebalcony of the Tio.”
“Who’s Sir Rupert?”
“Sir Rupert Crofton Lee. He was on the plane coming out. Very haughtyand showing off. A VIP. You know. And when I saw him sitting out on thebalcony at the Tio in the sun, I had that queer feeling you’ve just said ofsomething being wrong, but not knowing what it was.”
“Rathbone asked him to lecture to the Olive Branch, I believe, but hecouldn’t make it. Flew back to Cairo or Damascus or somewhere yesterdaymorning, I believe.”
“Well, go on about Anna Scheele.”
“Oh, Anna Scheele. It was nothing really. It was just one of the girls.”
“Catherine?” said Victoria instantly.
“I believe it was Catherine now I think of it.”
“Of course it was Catherine. That’s why you don’t want to tell me aboutit.”
“Nonsense, that’s quite absurd.”
“Well, what was it?”
“Catherine said to one of the other girls, ‘When Anna Scheele comes, wecan go forward. Then we take our orders from her—and her alone.’”
“That’s frightfully important, Edward.”
“Remember, I’m not even sure that was the name,” Edward warned her.
“Didn’t you think it queer at the time?”
“No, of course I didn’t. I thought it was just some female who was com-ing out to boss things. A kind of Queen Bee. Are you sure you’re not ima-gining all this, Victoria?”
Immediately he quailed45 before the glance his young friend gave him.
“All right, all right,” he said hastily. “Only you’ll admit the whole storydoes sound queer. So like a thriller—a young man coming in and gaspingout one word that doesn’t mean anything—and then dying. It just doesn’tseem real.”
“You didn’t see the blood,” said Victoria and shivered slightly.
“It must have given you a terrible shock,” said Edward sympathetically.
“It did,” said Victoria. “And then on top of it, you come along and ask meif I’m making it all up.”
“I’m sorry. But you are rather good at making things up. The Bishop ofLlangow and all that!”
“Oh, that was just girlish joie de vivre,” said Victoria. “This is serious, Ed-ward, really serious.”
“This man, Dakin—is that his name?—impressed you as knowing whathe was talking about?”
“Yes, he was very convincing. But, look here, Edward, how do you know—”
A hail from the balcony interrupted her.
“Come in—you two—drinks waiting.”
“Coming,” called Victoria.
Mrs. Clayton, watching them coming towards the steps, said to her hus-band:
“There’s something in the wind there! Nice couple of children—prob-ably haven’t got a bean between them. Shall I tell you what I think, Ger-ald?”
“Certainly, dear. I’m always interested to hear your ideas.”
“I think that girl has come out here to join her uncle on his Dig simplyand solely47 because of that young man.”
“I hardly think so, Rosa. They were quite astonished to see each other.”
“Pooh!” said Mrs. Clayton. “That’s nothing. He was astonished, I daresay.”
Gerald Clayton shook his head at her and smiled.
“She’s not an archaeological type,” said Mrs. Clayton. “They’re usuallyearnest girls with spectacles—and very often damp hands.”
“My dear, you can’t generalize in that way.”
“And intellectual and all that. This girl is an amiable48 nitwit with a lot ofcommon sense. Quite different. He’s a nice boy. A pity he’s tied up with allthis silly Olive Branch stuff — but I suppose jobs are hard to get. Theyshould find jobs for these boys.”
“It’s not so easy, dear, they do try. But you see, they’ve no training, noexperience and usually not much habit of concentration.”
Victoria went to bed that night in a turmoil49 of mixed feelings.
The object of her quest was attained50. Edward was found! She shudderedfrom the inevitable51 reaction. Do what she might a feeling of anticlimaxpersisted.
It was partly Edward’s disbelief that made everything that hadhappened seem stagy and unreal. She, Victoria Jones, a little London typ-ist, had arrived in Baghdad, had seen a man murdered almost before hereyes, had become a secret agent or something equally melodramatic, andhad finally met the man she loved in a tropical garden with palms wavingoverhead, and in all probability not far from the spot where the originalGarden of Eden was said to be situated52.
A fragment of a nursery rhyme floated through her head.
How many miles to Babylon?
Threescore and ten,
Can I get there by candlelight?
Yes, and back again.
But she wasn’t back again—she was still in Babylon.
Perhaps she would never get back—she and Edward in Babylon.
Something she had meant to ask Edward—there in the garden. Gardenof Eden—she and Edward—Ask Edward—but Mrs. Clayton had called—and it had gone out of her head—But she must remember—because it wasimportant—It didn’t make sense—Palms—garden—Edward—SaracenMaiden—Anna Scheele—Rupert Crofton Lee—All wrong somehow—And ifonly she could remember—
A woman coming towards her along a hotel corridor—a woman in atailored suit—it was herself—but when the woman got near she saw theface was Catherine’s. Edward and Catherine—absurd! “Come with me,”
she said to Edward, “we will find M. Lefarge—” And suddenly there hewas, wearing lemon yellow kid gloves and a little pointed black beard.
Edward had gone now and she was alone. She must get back fromBabylon before the candles went out.
And we are for the dark.
Who said that? Violence, terror—evil—blood on a ragged53 khaki tunic54.
She was running—running—down a hotel corridor. And they were com-ing after her.
Victoria woke with a gasp46.
IV
“Coffee?” said Mrs. Clayton. “How do you like your eggs? Scrambled55?”
“Lovely.”
“You look rather washed out. Not feeling ill?”
“No, I didn’t sleep very well last night. I don’t know why. It’s a very com-fortable bed.”
“Turn the wireless56 on, will you, Gerald? It’s time for the news.”
Edward came in just as the pips were sounding.
“In the House of Commons last night, the Prime Minister gave fresh detailsof the cuts in dollar imports.
“A report from Cairo announces that the body of Sir Rupert Crofton Lee hasbeen taken from the Nile. (Victoria put down her coffee-cup sharply, andMrs. Clayton uttered an ejaculation.) Sir Rupert left his hotel after arrivingby plane from Baghdad, and did not return to it that night. He had been miss-ing for twenty-four hours when his body was recovered. Death was due to astab wound in the heart and not to drowning. Sir Rupert was a renownedtraveller, was famous for his travels through China and Baluchistan and wasthe author of several books.”
“Murdered!” exclaimed Mrs. Clayton. “I think Cairo is worse than any-place now. Did you know anything about all this, Gerry?”
“I knew he was missing,” said Mr. Clayton. “It appears he got a note,brought by hand, and left the hotel in a great hurry on foot without sayingwhere he was going.”
“You see,” said Victoria to Edward after breakfast when they were alonetogether. “It is all true. First this man Carmichael and now Sir RupertCrofton Lee. I feel sorry now I called him a show-off. It seems unkind. Allthe people who know or guess about this queer business are being got outof the way. Edward, do you think it will be me next?”
“For Heaven’s sake don’t look so pleased by the idea, Victoria! Yoursense of drama is much too strong. I don’t see why anyone should elimin-ate you because you don’t really know anything—but do, please, do, be aw-fully careful.”
“We’ll both be careful. I’ve dragged you into it.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Relieves the monotony.”
“Yes, but take care of yourself.” She gave a sudden shiver.
“It’s rather awful—he was so very much alive—Crofton Lee, I mean—and now he’s dead too. It’s frightening, really frightening.”
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consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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trench
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bishop
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alias
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pretences
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fascination
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impatience
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consular
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delightful
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baker
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truthful
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mania
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meticulous
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intercept
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hiss
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astonishment
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charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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standing
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brute
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awfully
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eminent
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excavating
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humble
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shipping
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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smuggle
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| vt.私运；vi.走私 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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assail
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| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
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goring
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的现在分词 ) | |
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beetling
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| adj.突出的，悬垂的v.快速移动( beetle的现在分词 ) | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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touchily
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| adv.易动气地；过分敏感地；小心眼地；难以取悦地 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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