After tea, Mrs. Willett suggested bridge.
“There are six of us. Two can cut in.”
Ronnie’s eyes brightened.
“You four start,” he suggested. “Miss Willett and I will cut in.”
But Mr. Duke said that he did not play bridge.
Ronnie’s face fell.
“We might play a round game,” said Mrs. Willett.
“Or table-turning,” suggested Ronnie. “It’s a spooky evening. We spokeabout it the other day, you remember. Mr. Rycroft and I were talkingabout it this evening as we came along here.”
“I am a member of the Psychical1 Research Society,” explained Mr.
Rycroft in his precise way. “I was able to put my young friend right on oneor two points.”
“Tommy rot,” said Major Burnaby very distinctly.
“Oh! but it’s great fun, don’t you think?” said Violet Willett. “I mean, onedoesn’t believe in it or anything. It’s just an amusement. What do you say,Mr. Duke?”
“Anything you like, Miss Willett.”
“We must turn the lights out, and we must find a suitable table. No—notthat one, Mother. I’m sure it’s much too heavy.”
Things were settled at last to everyone’s satisfaction. A small roundtable with a polished top was brought from an adjoining room. It was setin front of the fire and everyone took his place round it with the lightsswitched off.
Major Burnaby was between his hostess and Violet. On the other side ofthe girl was Ronnie Garfield. A cynical2 smile creased3 the Major’s lips. Hethought to himself:
“In my young days it was Up Jenkins.” And he tried to recall the name ofa girl with fluffy4 hair whose hand he had held beneath the table at consid-erable length. A long time ago that was. But Up Jenkins had been a goodgame.
There were all the usual laughs, whispers, stereotyped5 remarks.
“The spirits are a long time.”
“Got a long way to come.”
“Hush—nothing will happen unless we are serious.”
“Oh! do be quiet—everyone.”
“Nothing’s happening.”
“Of course not—it never does at first.”
“If only you’d all be quiet.”
At last, after some time, the murmur6 of talk died away.
A silence.
“This table’s dead as mutton,” murmured Ronnie Garfield disgustedly.
“Hush.”
A tremor7 ran through the polished surface. The table began to rock.
“Ask it questions. Who shall ask? You, Ronnie.”
“Oh—er—I say—what do I ask it?”
“Is a spirit present?” prompted Violet.
“Oh! Hullo—is a spirit present?”
A sharp rock.
“That means yes,” said Violet.
“Oh! er—who are you?”
No response.
“Ask it to spell its name.”
The table started rocking violently.
“A B C D E F G H I—I say, was that I or J?”
“Ask it. Was that I?”
One rock.
“Yes. Next letter, please.”
The spirit’s name was Ida.
“Have you a message for anyone here?”
“Yes.”
“Who is it for? Miss Willett?”
“No.”
“Mrs. Willett?”
“No.”
“Mr. Rycroft?”
“No.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“It’s for you, Ronnie. Go on. Make it spell it out.”
The table spelt “Diana.”
“Who’s Diana? Do you know anyone called Diana?”
“No, I don’t. At least—”
“There you are. He does.”
“Ask her if she’s a widow?”
The fun went on. Mr. Rycroft smiled indulgently. Young people musthave their jokes. He caught one glance of his hostess’s face in a suddenflicker of the firelight. It looked worried and abstracted. Her thoughtswere somewhere faraway.
Major Burnaby was thinking of the snow. It was going to snow againthis evening. Hardest winter he ever remembered.
Mr. Duke was playing very seriously. The spirits, alas8, paid very little at-tention to him. All the messages seemed to be for Violet and Ronnie.
Violet was told she was going to Italy. Someone was going with her. Nota woman. A man. His name was Leonard.
More laughter. The table spelt the name of the town. A Russian jumbleof letters—not in the least Italian.
The usual accusations9 were levelled.
“Look here, Violet,” (“Miss Willett” had been dropped) “you are shov-ing.”
“I’m not. Look, I take my hands right off the table and it rocks just thesame.”
“I like raps. I’m going to ask it to rap. Loud ones.”
“There should be raps.” Ronnie turned to Mr. Rycroft. “There ought tobe raps, oughtn’t there, sir?”
“Under the circumstances, I should hardly think it likely,” said Mr.
Rycroft drily.
There was a pause. The table was inert10. It returned no answer to ques-tions.
“Has Ida gone away?”
One languid rock.
“Will another spirit come, please?”
Nothing. Suddenly the table began to quiver and rock violently.
“Hurrah. Are you a new spirit?”
“Yes.”
“Have you a message for someone?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“No.”
“For Violet?”
“No.”
“For Major Burnaby?”
“Yes.”
“It’s for you, Major Burnaby. Will you spell it out, please?”
The table started rocking slowly.
“T R E V—are you sure it’s V? It can’t be. T R E V—it doesn’t make sense.”
“Trevelyan, of course,” said Mrs. Willett. “Captain Trevelyan.”
“Do you mean Captain Trevelyan?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve got a message for Captain Trevelyan?”
“No.”
“Well, what is it then?”
The table began to rock—slowly, rhythmically11. So slowly that it was easyto count the letters.
“D—” a pause. “E—A D.”
“Dead.”
“Somebody is dead?”
Instead of Yes or No, the table began to rock again till it reached the let-ter T.
“T—do you mean Trevelyan?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t mean Trevelyan is dead?”
“Yes.”
A very sharp rock. “Yes.”
Somebody gasped12. There was a faint stir all round the table.
Ronnie’s voice as he resumed his questions held a different note—anawed uneasy note.
“You mean—that Captain Trevelyan is dead?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause. It was as though no one knew what to ask next, orhow to take this unexpected development.
And in the pause, the table started rocking again.
Rhythmically and slowly, Ronnie spelled out the letters aloud. .?.?.
M-U-R-D-E-R. .?.?.
Mrs. Willett gave a cry and took her hands off the table.
“I won’t go on with this. It’s horrible. I don’t like it.”
Mr. Duke’s voice rang out, resonant13 and clear. He was questioning thetable.
“Do you mean—that Captain Trevelyan has been murdered?”
The last word had hardly left his lips when the answer came. The tablerocked so violently and assertively14 that it nearly fell over. One rock only.
“Yes. .?.?.”
“Look here,” said Ronnie. He took his hands from the table. “I call this arotten joke.” His voice trembled.
“Turn up the lights,” said Mr. Rycroft.
Major Burnaby rose and did so. The sudden glare revealed a company ofpale uneasy faces.
Everyone looked at each other. Somehow—nobody quite knew what tosay.
“All rot, of course,” said Ronnie with an uneasy laugh.
“Silly nonsense,” said Mrs. Willett. “Nobody ought to—to make jokes likethat.”
“Not about people dying,” said Violet. “It’s—oh! I don’t like it.”
“I wasn’t shoving,” said Ronnie, feeling unspoken criticism levelled athim. “I swear I wasn’t.”
“I can say the same,” said Mr. Duke. “And you, Mr. Rycroft?”
“Certainly not,” said Mr. Rycroft warmly.
“You don’t think I’d make a joke of that kind, do you?” growled15 MajorBurnaby. “Rotten bad taste.”
“Violet dear—”
“I didn’t, Mother. Indeed, I didn’t. I wouldn’t do such a thing.”
The girl was almost tearful.
Everyone was embarrassed. A sudden blight16 had come over the cheerfulparty.
Major Burnaby pushed back his chair, went to the window and pulledaside the curtain. He stood there looking out with his back to the room.
“Twenty- five minutes past five,” said Mr. Rycroft glancing up at theclock. He compared it with his own watch and somehow everyone felt theaction was significant in some way.
“Let me see,” said Mrs. Willett with forced cheerfulness. “I think we’dbetter have cocktails17. Will you ring the bell, Mr. Garfield?”
Ronnie obeyed.
Ingredients for cocktails were brought and Ronnie was appointedmixer. The situation grew a little easier.
“Well,” said Ronnie, raising his glass. “Here’s how.”
The others responded—all but the silent figure by the window.
“Major Burnaby. Here’s your cocktail18.”
The Major roused himself with a start. He turned slowly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Willett. Not for me.” He looked once more out into thenight, then came slowly back to the group by the fire. “Many thanks for avery pleasant time. Good night.”
“You’re not going?”
“Afraid I must.”
“Not so soon. And on a night like this.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Willett—but it’s got to be done. If there were only a tele-phone.”
“A telephone?”
“Yes—to tell you the truth—I’m—well. I’d like to be sure that Joe Trev-elyan’s all right. Silly superstition19 and all that—but there it is. Naturally, Idon’t believe in this tommy rot—but—”
“But you can’t telephone from anywhere. There’s not such a thing in Sit-taford.”
“That’s just it. As I can’t telephone, I’ll have to go.”
“Go—but you couldn’t get a car down that road! Elmer wouldn’t take hiscar out on such a night.”
Elmer was the proprietor21 of the sole car in the place, an aged22 Ford20, hiredat a handsome price by those who wished to go into Exhampton.
“No, no—car’s out of the question. My two legs will take me there, Mrs.
Willett.”
There was a chorus of protest.
“Oh! Major Burnaby—it’s impossible. You said yourself it was going tosnow.”
“Not for an hour—perhaps longer. I’ll get there, never fear.”
“Oh! you can’t. We can’t allow it.”
She was seriously disturbed and upset.
But argument and entreaty23 had no more effect on Major Burnaby thanif he were a rock. He was an obstinate24 man. Once his mind was made upon any point, no power on earth could move him.
He had determined25 to walk to Exhampton and see for himself that allwas well with his old friend, and he repeated that simple statement half adozen times.
In the end they were brought to realize that he meant it. He wrappedhimself up in his overcoat, lighted the hurricane lantern, and stepped outinto the night.
“I’ll just drop in to my place for a flask,” he said cheerily, “and then pushstraight on. Trevelyan will put me up for the night when I get there. Ri-diculous fuss, I know. Everything sure to be all right. Don’t worry, Mrs.
Willett. Snow or no snow—I’ll get there in a couple of hours. Good night.”
He strode away. The others returned to the fire.
Rycroft had looked up at the sky.
“It is going to snow,” he murmured to Mr. Duke. “And it will begin longbefore he gets to Exhampton. I—I hope he gets there all right.”
Duke frowned.
“I know. I feel I ought to have gone with him. One of us ought to havedone so.”
“Most distressing26,” Mrs. Willett was saying, “most distressing. Violet, Iwill not have that silly game ever played again. Poor Major Burnaby willprobably plunge27 into a snowdrift—or if he doesn’t he’ll die of the cold andexposure. At his age, too. Very foolish of him to go off like that. Of course,Captain Trevelyan is perfectly28 all right.”
Everyone echoed:
“Of course.”
But even now they did not feel really too comfortable.
Supposing something had happened to Captain Trevelyan. .?.?.
Supposing. .?.?.

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收听单词发音

1
psychical
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adj.有关特异功能现象的;有关特异功能官能的;灵魂的;心灵的 | |
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2
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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3
creased
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(使…)起折痕,弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 ); (皮肤)皱起,使起皱纹; 皱皱巴巴 | |
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4
fluffy
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adj.有绒毛的,空洞的 | |
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5
stereotyped
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adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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6
murmur
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n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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7
tremor
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n.震动,颤动,战栗,兴奋,地震 | |
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8
alas
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int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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9
accusations
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n.指责( accusation的名词复数 );指控;控告;(被告发、控告的)罪名 | |
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10
inert
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adj.无活动能力的,惰性的;迟钝的 | |
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11
rhythmically
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adv.有节奏地 | |
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12
gasped
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v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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13
resonant
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adj.(声音)洪亮的,共鸣的 | |
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14
assertively
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断言地,独断地 | |
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15
growled
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v.(动物)发狺狺声, (雷)作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 );低声咆哮着说 | |
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16
blight
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n.枯萎病;造成破坏的因素;vt.破坏,摧残 | |
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17
cocktails
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n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 );餐前开胃菜;混合物 | |
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18
cocktail
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n.鸡尾酒;餐前开胃小吃;混合物 | |
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19
superstition
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n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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20
Ford
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n.浅滩,水浅可涉处;v.涉水,涉过 | |
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21
proprietor
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n.所有人;业主;经营者 | |
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22
aged
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adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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23
entreaty
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n.恳求,哀求 | |
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24
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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25
determined
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adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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26
distressing
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a.使人痛苦的 | |
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27
plunge
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v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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28
perfectly
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adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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