“No,” said Roger. “I don’t. After all, there are heaps of other places wherehe can be treated. The really important thing is to get Henry to agree.”
“Do you think that will be difficult?” asked Frankie.
“I’m afraid it may be. You heard him the other night. On the other hand,if we just catch him in the repentant1 mood, that’s very different. Hullo—here comes Sylvia.”
Mrs. Bassington-ffrench emerged from the house and looked about her,then seeing Roger and Frankie, she walked across the grass towards them.
They could see that she was looking terribly worried and strained.
“Roger,” she began, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Then, asFrankie made a movement to leave them—“No, my dear, don’t go. Of whatuse are concealments? In any case, I think you know all there is to know.
You’ve suspected this business for some time, haven’t you?”
Frankie nodded.
“While I’ve been blind—blind—” said Sylvia bitterly. “Both of you sawwhat I never even suspected. I only wondered why Henry had changed soto all of us. It made me very unhappy, but I never suspected the reason.”
She paused, then went on again with a slight change of tone.
“As soon as Dr. Nicholson had told me the truth, I went straight toHenry. I’ve only just left him now.” She paused, swallowing a sob2.
“Roger—it’s going to be all right. He’s agreed. He will go to the Grangeand put himself in Dr. Nicholson’s hands tomorrow.”
“Oh! no —” The exclamation3 came from Roger and Frankie simultan-eously. Sylvia looked at them—astonished.
Roger spoke4 awkwardly.
“Do you know, Sylvia, I’ve been thinking it over, and I don’t believe theGrange would be a good plan, after all.”
“You think he can fight it by himself?” asked Sylvia doubtfully.
“No, I don’t. But there are other places—places not—so—well, not sonear at hand. I’m convinced that staying in this district would be a mis-take.”
“I’m sure of it,” said Frankie, coming to his rescue.
“Oh! I don’t agree,” said Sylvia. “I couldn’t bear him to go away some-where. And Dr. Nicholson has been so kind and understanding. I shall feelhappy about Henry being under his charge.”
“I thought you didn’t like Nicholson, Sylvia,” said Roger.
“I’ve changed my mind.” She spoke simply. “Nobody could have beennicer or kinder than he was this afternoon. My silly prejudice against himhas quite vanished.”
There was a moment’s silence. The position was awkward. Neither Ro-ger nor Sylvia knew quite what to say next.
“Poor Henry,” said Sylvia. “He broke down. He was terribly upset at myknowing. He agreed that he must fight this awful craving7 for my sake andTommy’s, but he said I hadn’t a conception of what it meant. I suppose Ihaven’t, though Dr. Nicholson explained very fully5. It becomes a kind ofobsession—people aren’t responsible for their actions—so he said. Oh, Ro-ger, it seems so awful. But Dr. Nicholson was really kind. I trust him.”
“All the same, I think it would be better—” began Roger.
Sylvia turned on him.
“I don’t understand you, Roger. Why have you changed your mind? Halfan hour ago you were all for Henry’s going to the Grange.”
“Well—I’ve—I’ve had time to think the matter over since—”
Again Sylvia interrupted.
“Anyway, I’ve made up my mind. Henry shall go to the Grange andnowhere else.”
They confronted her in silence, then Roger said:
“Do you know, I think I will ring up Nicholson. He will be home now. I’dlike—just to have a talk with him about matters.”
Without waiting for her reply he turned away and went rapidly into thehouse. The two women stood looking after him.
“I cannot understand Roger,” said Sylvia impatiently. “About a quarterof an hour ago he was positively8 urging me to arrange for Henry to go tothe Grange.”
Her tone held a distinct note of anger.
“All the same,” said Frankie, “I agree with him. I’m sure I’ve read some-where that people ought always to go for a cure somewhere far away fromtheir homes.”
“I think that’s just nonsense,” said Sylvia.
Frankie felt in a dilemma9. Sylvia’s unexpected obstinacy10 was makingthings difficult, and also she seemed suddenly to have become as violentlypro-Nicholson as she formerly11 had been against him. It was very hard toknow what arguments to use. Frankie considered telling the whole storyto Sylvia—but would Sylvia believe it? Even Roger had not been very im-pressed by the theory of Dr. Nicholson’s guilt12. Sylvia, with her newfoundpartisanship where the doctor was concerned, would probably be evenless so. She might even go and repeat the whole thing to him. It was cer-tainly difficult.
An aeroplane passed low overhead in the gathering13 dusk, filling the airwith its loud beat of engines. Both Sylvia and Frankie stared up at it, gladof the respite14 it afforded, since neither of them quite knew what to saynext. It gave Frankie time to collect her thoughts, and Sylvia time to re-cover from her fit of sudden anger.
As the aeroplane disappeared over the trees and its roar receded15 intothe distance, Sylvia turned abruptly16 to Frankie.
“It’s been so awful—” she said brokenly. “And you all seem to want tosend Henry far away from me.”
“No, no,” said Frankie. “It wasn’t that at all.”
She cast about for a minute.
“It was only that I thought he ought to have the best treatment. And I dothink that Dr. Nicholson is rather—well, rather a quack17.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Sylvia. “I think he’s a very clever man and justthe kind of man Henry needs.”
She looked defiantly18 at Frankie. Frankie marvelled19 at the hold Dr. Nich-olson had acquired over her in such a short time. All her former distrustof the man seemed to have vanished completely.
At a loss what to say or do next, Frankie relapsed into silence. PresentlyRoger came out again from the house. He seemed slightly breathless.
“Nicholson isn’t in yet,” he said. “I left a message.”
“I don’t see why you want to see Dr. Nicholson so urgently,” said Sylvia.
“You suggested this plan, and it’s all arranged and Henry has consented.”
“I think I’ve got some say in the matter, Sylvia,” said Roger gently. “Afterall, I’m Henry’s brother.”
“You suggested the plan yourself,” said Sylvia obstinately20.
“Yes, but I’ve heard a few things about Nicholson since.”
“What things? Oh! I don’t believe you.”
She bit her lip, turned away and plunged22 into the house.
Roger looked at Frankie.
“This is a bit awkward,” he said.
“Very awkward, indeed.”
“Once Sylvia has made her mind up she can be obstinate21 as the devil.”
“What are we going to do?”
They sat down again on the garden seat and went into the matter care-fully. Roger agreed with Frankie that to tell the whole story to Sylviawould be a mistake. The best plan, in his opinion, would be to tackle thedoctor.
“But what are you going to say exactly?”
“I don’t know that I shall say much—but I shall hint a good deal. At anyrate, I agree with you about one thing—Henry mustn’t go to the Grange.
Even if we come right out into the open, we’ve got to stop that.”
“We give the whole show away if we do,” Frankie reminded him.
“I know. That’s why we’ve got to try everything else first. Curse Sylvia,why must she turn obstinate just at this minute?”
“It shows the power of the man,” Frankie said.
“Yes. You know, it inclines me to believe that, evidence or no evidence,you may be right about him after all—what’s that?”
They both sprang up.
“It sounded like a shot,” said Frankie. “From the house.”
They looked at each other, then raced towards the building. They wentin by the french window of the drawing room and passed through into thehall. Sylvia Bassington-ffrench was standing6 there, her face white as pa-per.
“Did you hear?” she said. “It was a shot—from Henry’s study.”
She swayed and Roger put an arm round her to steady her. Frankiewent to the study door and turned the handle.
“It’s locked,” she said.
“The window,” said Roger.
He deposited Sylvia, who was in a half-fainting condition, on a conveni-ent settee and raced out again through the drawing room, Frankie on hisheels. They went round the house till they came to the study window. Itwas closed, but they put their faces close to the glass and peered in. Thesun was setting and there was not much light—but they could see plainlyenough.
Henry Bassington-ffrench was lying sprawled23 out across his desk. Therewas a bullet wound plainly visible in the temple and a revolver lay on thefloor, where it had dropped from his hand.
“He’s shot himself,” said Frankie. “How ghastly! .?.?.”
“Stand back a little,” said Roger. “I’m going to break the window.”
He wrapped his hand in his coat and struck the pane24 of glass a heavyblow that shattered it. Roger picked out the pieces carefully, then he andFrankie stepped into the room. As they did so, Mrs. Bassington-ffrenchand Dr. Nicholson came hurrying along the terrace.
“Here’s the doctor,” said Sylvia. “He’s just come. Has — has anythinghappened to Henry?”
Then she saw the sprawling25 figure and uttered a cry.
Roger stepped quickly out again through the window and Dr. Nicholsonthrust Sylvia into his arms.
“Take her away,” he said briefly26. “Look after her. Give her some brandyif she’ll take it. Don’t let her see more than you can help.”
He himself stepped through the window and joined Frankie.
He shook his head slowly.
“This is a tragic27 business,” he said. “Poor fellow. So he felt he couldn’tface the music. Too bad. Too bad.”
He bent28 over the body then straightened himself up again.
“Nothing to be done. Death must have been instantaneous. I wonder ifhe wrote something first. They usually do.”
Frankie advanced till she stood beside them. A piece of paper with a fewscrawled words on it, evidently freshly written, lay at Bassington-ffrench’selbow. Their purport29 was clear enough.
I feel this is the best way out, (Henry Bassington-ffrenchhad written). This fatal habit has taken too great a holdon me for me to fight it now. Want to do the best I can forSylvia—Sylvia and Tommy. God bless you both, my dears.
Forgive me. .?.?.
Frankie felt a lump rise in her throat.
“We mustn’t touch anything,” said Dr. Nicholson. “There will have to bean inquest, of course. We must ring up the police.”
In obedience30 to his gesture, Frankie went towards the door. Then shestopped.
“The key’s not in the lock,” she said.
“No? Perhaps it’s in his pocket.”
He knelt down, investigating delicately. From the dead man’s coatpocket he drew out a key.
He tried it in the lock and it fitted. Together they passed out into thehall. Dr. Nicholson went straight to the telephone.
Frankie, her knees shaking under her, felt suddenly sick.

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收听单词发音

1
repentant
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adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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2
sob
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n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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3
exclamation
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n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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4
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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5
fully
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adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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6
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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7
craving
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n.渴望,热望 | |
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8
positively
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adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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9
dilemma
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n.困境,进退两难的局面 | |
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10
obstinacy
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n.顽固;(病痛等)难治 | |
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11
formerly
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adv.从前,以前 | |
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12
guilt
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n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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13
gathering
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n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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14
respite
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n.休息,中止,暂缓 | |
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15
receded
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v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 );向后倾斜;自原处后退或避开别人的注视;尤指问题 | |
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16
abruptly
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adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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17
quack
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n.庸医;江湖医生;冒充内行的人;骗子 | |
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18
defiantly
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adv.挑战地,大胆对抗地 | |
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19
marvelled
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v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
obstinately
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ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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21
obstinate
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adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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22
plunged
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v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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23
sprawled
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v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词);蔓延;杂乱无序地拓展;四肢伸展坐着(或躺着) | |
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24
pane
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n.窗格玻璃,长方块 | |
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25
sprawling
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adj.蔓生的,不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 );蔓延;杂乱无序地拓展;四肢伸展坐着(或躺着) | |
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26
briefly
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adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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27
tragic
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adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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28
bent
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n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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29
purport
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n.意义,要旨,大要;v.意味著,做为...要旨,要领是... | |
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30
obedience
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n.服从,顺从 | |
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