The calm interior of Miss Waynflete’s house was almost an anti-climaxafter that tense moment in the car.
Miss Waynflete received Bridget’s acceptance of her invitation a littledoubtfully, hastening, however, to reiterate1 her offer of hospitality by wayof showing that her doubts were due to quite another cause than unwill-ingness to receive the girl.
Luke said:
“I really think it will be the best thing, since you are so kind, MissWaynflete. I am staying at the Bells and Motley. I’d rather have Bridgetunder my eye than up in town. After all, remember what happened therebefore.”
Miss Waynflete said:
“You mean—Lavinia Pinkerton?”
“Yes. You would have said, wouldn’t you, that anyone would be quitesafe in the middle of a crowded city.”
“You mean,” said Miss Waynflete, “that anyone’s safety depends princip-ally on the fact that nobody wishes to kill them?”
“Exactly. We have come to depend upon what has been called the good-will of civilization.”
Miss Waynflete nodded her head thoughtfully.
Bridget said:
“How long have you known that — that Gordon was the killer2, MissWaynflete?”
Miss Waynflete sighed.
“That is a difficult question to answer, my dear. I suppose that I havebeen quite sure, in my inmost heart, for sometime…But I did my best notto recognize that belief! You see, I didn’t want to believe it and so I preten-ded to myself that it was a wicked and monstrous3 idea on my part.”
Luke said bluntly:
“Have you never been afraid—for yourself?”
Miss Waynflete considered.
“You mean that if Gordon had suspected that I knew, he would havefound some means of getting rid of me?”
“Yes.”
Miss Waynflete said gently:
“I have, of course, been alive to that possibility…I tried to be—careful ofmyself. But I do not think that Gordon would have considered me a realmenace.”
“Why?”
Miss Waynflete flushed a little.
“I don’t think that Gordon would ever believe that I would do anythingto—to bring him into danger.”
Luke said abruptly4:
“You went as far, didn’t you, as to warn him?”
“Yes. That is, I did hint to him that it was odd that anyone who dis-pleased him should shortly meet with an accident.”
Bridget demanded:
“And what did he say?”
A worried expression passed over Miss Waynflete’s face.
“He didn’t react at all in the way I meant. He seemed—really it’s mostextraordinary!—he seemed pleased…He said, ‘So you’ve noticed that?’ Hequite—quite preened6 himself, if I may use that expression.”
“He’s mad, of course,” said Luke.
Miss Waynflete agreed eagerly.
“Yes, indeed, there isn’t any other explanation possible. He’s not re-sponsible for his acts.” She laid a hand on Luke’s arm. “They—they won’thang him, will they, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”
“No, no. Send him to Broadmoor, I expect.”
Miss Waynflete sighed and leaned back.
“I’m so glad.”
Her eyes rested on Bridget, who was frowning down at the carpet.
Luke said:
“But we’re a long way from all that still. I’ve notified the powers that beand I can say this much, they’re prepared to take the matter seriously. Butyou must realize that we’ve got remarkably7 little evidence to go upon.”
“We’ll get evidence,” said Bridget.
Miss Waynflete looked up at her. There was some quality in her expres-sion that reminded Luke of someone or something that he had seen notlong ago. He tried to pin down the elusive8 memory but failed.
Miss Waynflete said doubtfully:
“You are confident, my dear. Well, perhaps you are right.”
Luke said:
“I’ll go along with the car, Bridget, and fetch your things from theManor.”
Bridget said immediately:
“I’ll come too.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Yes, but I’d rather come.”
Luke said irritably10:
“Don’t do the mother and child act with me, Bridget! I refuse to be pro-tected by you.”
Miss Waynflete murmured:
“I really think, Bridget, that it will be quite all right—in a car—and indaylight.”
Bridget gave a slightly shamefaced laugh.
“I’m being rather an idiot. This business gets on one’s nerves.”
Luke said:
“Miss Waynflete protected me home the other night. Come now, MissWaynflete, admit it! You did, didn’t you?”
She admitted it, smiling.
“You see, Mr. Fitzwilliam, you were so completely unsuspicious! And ifGordon Whitfield had really grasped the fact that you were down here tolook into this business and for no other reason—well, it wasn’t very safe.
And that’s a very lonely lane—anything might have happened!”
“Well, I’m alive to the danger now all right,” said Luke grimly. “I shan’tbe caught napping, I can assure you.”
Miss Waynflete said anxiously:
“Remember, he is very cunning. And much cleverer than you wouldever imagine! Really, a most ingenious mind.”
“I’m forewarned.”
“Men have courage—one knows that,” said Miss Waynflete, “but theyare more easily deceived than women.”
“That’s true,” said Bridget.
Luke said:
“Seriously, Miss Waynflete, do you really think that I am in any danger?
Do you think, in film parlance11, that Lord Whitfield is really out to get me?”
Miss Waynflete hesitated.
“I think,” she said, “that the principal danger is to Bridget. It is her rejec-tion of him that is the supreme12 insult! I think that after he has dealt withBridget he will turn his attention to you. But I think that undoubtedly13 hewill try for her first.”
Luke groaned14.
“I wish to goodness you’d go abroad—now—at once, Bridget.”
Bridget’s lips set themselves together.
“I’m not going.”
Miss Waynflete sighed.
“You are a brave creature, Bridget. I admire you.”
“You’d do the same in my place.”
“Well, perhaps.”
Bridget said, her voice dropping to a full, rich note:
“Luke and I are in this together.”
She went out with him to the door. Luke said:
“I’ll give you a ring from the Bells and Motley when I’m safely out of thelion’s den5.”
“Yes, do.”
“My sweet, don’t let’s get all het up! Even the most accomplished15 mur-derers have to have a little time to mature their plans! I should say we’requite all right for a day or two. Superintendent16 Battle is coming downfrom London today. From then on Whitfield will be under observation.”
“In fact, everything is OK, and we can cut out the melodrama17.”
Luke said gravely, laying a hand on her shoulder:
“Bridget, my sweet, you will oblige me by not doing anything rash!”
“Same to you, darling Luke.”
He squeezed her shoulder, jumped into the car and drove off.
Bridget returned to the sitting room. Miss Waynflete was fussing a littlein a gentle spinsterish manner.
“My dear, your room’s not quite ready yet. Emily is seeing to it. Do youknow what I’m going to do? I’m going to get you a nice cup of tea! It’s justwhat you need after all these upsetting incidents.”
“It’s frightfully kind of you, Miss Waynflete, but I really don’t want any.”
What Bridget would have liked was a strong cocktail18, mainly composedof gin, but she rightly judged that that form of refreshment19 was not likelyto be forthcoming. She disliked tea intensely. It usually gave her indiges-tion. Miss Waynflete, however, had decided20 that tea was what her youngguest needed. She bustled21 out of the room and reappeared about fiveminutes later, her face beaming, carrying a tray on which stood twodainty Dresden cups full of a fragrant22, steaming beverage23.
“Real Lapsang Souchong,” said Miss Waynflete proudly.
Bridget, who disliked China tea even more than Indian, gave a wansmile.
At that moment Emily, a small clumsy-looking girl with pronounced ad-enoids, appeared in the doorway24 and said:
“If you please, biss—did you bean the frilled billowcases?”
Miss Waynflete hurriedly left the room, and Bridget took advantage ofthe respite25 to pour her tea out of the window, narrowly escaping scaldingWonky Pooh, who was on the flower bed below.
Wonky Pooh accepted her apologies, sprang up on the windowsill andproceeded to wind himself in and out over Bridget’s shoulders, purring inan affected26 manner.
“Handsome!” said Bridget, drawing a hand down his back.
Wonky Pooh arched his tail and purred with redoubled vigour27.
“Nice pussy28,” said Bridget, tickling29 his ears.
Miss Waynflete returned at that minute.
“Dear me,” she exclaimed. “Wonky Pooh has quite taken to you, hasn’the? He’s so standoffish as a rule! Mind his ear, my dear, he’s had a bad earlately and it’s still very painful.”
The injunction came too late. Bridget’s hand had tweaked the painfulear. Wonky Pooh spat30 at her and retired31, a mass of orange offended dig-nity.
“Oh, dear, has he scratched you?” cried Miss Waynflete.
“Nothing much,” said Bridget, sucking a diagonal scratch on the back ofher hand.
“Shall I put some iodine32 on?”
“Oh, no, it’s quite all right. Don’t let’s fuss.”
Miss Waynflete seemed a little disappointed. Feeling that she had beenungracious, Bridget said hastily:
“I wonder how long Luke will be?”
“Now don’t worry, my dear. I’m sure Mr. Fitzwilliam is well able to lookafter himself.”
“Oh, Luke’s tough all right!”
At that moment the telephone rang. Bridget hurried to it. Luke’s voicespoke.
“Hallo? That you, Bridget? I’m at the Bells and Motley. Can you wait foryour traps till after lunch? Because Battle has arrived here—you knowwho I mean—”
“The superintendent man from Scotland Yard?”
“Yes. And he wants to have a talk with me right away.”
“That’s all right by me. Bring my things round after lunch and tell mewhat he says about it all.”
“Right. So long, my sweet.”
“So long.”
Bridget replaced the receiver and retailed33 the conversation to MissWaynflete. Then she yawned. A feeling of fatigue34 had succeeded her ex-citement.
Miss Waynflete noticed it.
“You’re tired, my dear! You’d better lie down—no, perhaps that wouldbe a bad thing just before lunch. I was just going to take some old clothesto a woman in a cottage not very far away—quite a pretty walk over thefields. Perhaps you’d care to come with me? We’ll just have time beforelunch.”
Bridget agreed willingly.
They went out the back way. Miss Waynflete wore a straw hat and, toBridget’s amusement, had put on gloves.
“We might be going to Bond Street!” she thought to herself.
Miss Waynflete chatted pleasantly of various small village matters asthey walked. They went across two fields, crossed a rough lane and thentook a path leading through a ragged35 copse. The day was hot and Bridgetfound the shade of the trees pleasant.
Miss Waynflete suggested that they should sit down and rest a minute.
“It’s really rather oppressively warm today, don’t you think? I fancythere must be thunder about!”
Bridget acquiesced36 somewhat sleepily. She lay back against the bank—her eyes half-closed—some lines of poetry wandering through her brain.
“O why do you walk through the fields in glovesO fat white woman whom nobody loves?”
But that wasn’t quite right! Miss Waynflete wasn’t fat. She amended37 thewords to fit the case.
“O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,O lean grey woman whom nobody loves?”
Miss Waynflete broke in upon her thoughts.
“You’re very sleepy, dear, aren’t you?”
The words were said in a gentle everyday tone, but something in themjerked Bridget’s eyes suddenly open.
Miss Waynflete was leaning forward towards her. Her eyes were eager,her tongue passed gently over her lips. She repeated her question:
“You’re very sleepy, aren’t you?”
This time there was no mistaking the definite significance of the tone. Aflash passed through Bridget’s brain—a lightning flash of comprehension,succeeded by one of contempt at her own density38!
She had suspected the truth—but it had been no more than a dim suspi-cion. She had meant, working quietly and secretly, to make sure. But notfor one moment had she realized that anything was to be attemptedagainst herself. She had, she thought, concealed39 her suspicious entirely40.
Nor would she have dreamed that anything would be contemplated41 sosoon. Fool—seven times fool!
And she thought suddenly:
“The tea—there was something in the tea. She doesn’t know I never drankit. Now’s my chance! I must pretend! What stuff was it, I wonder? Poison?
Or just sleeping stuff? She expects me to be sleepy—that’s evident.”
She let her eyelids42 droop43 again. In what she hoped was a natural drowsyvoice, she said:
“I do—frightfully…How funny! I don’t know when I’ve felt so sleepy.”
Miss Waynflete nodded softly.
Bridget watched the older woman narrowly through her almost closedeyes.
She thought:
“I’m a match for her anyway! My muscles are pretty tough — she’s askinny frail44 old pussy. But I’ve got to make her talk—that’s it—make hertalk!”
Miss Waynflete was smiling. It was not a nice smile. It was sly and notvery human.
Bridget thought:
“She’s like a goat. God! how like a goat she is! A goat’s always been anevil symbol! I see why now! I was right—I was right in that fantastic ideaof mine! Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…That was the start of it—it’s all there.”
She murmured, and this time her voice held a definite note of apprehen-sion.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me… I feel so queer — so veryqueer!”
Miss Waynflete gave a swift glance round her. The spot was entirely des-olate. It was too far from the village for a shout to be heard. There were nohouses or cottages near. She began to fumble45 with the parcel she carried—the parcel that was supposed to contain old clothes. Apparently46 it did. Thepaper came apart, revealing a soft woolly garment. And still those glovedhands fumbled47 and fumbled.
“O why do you walk through the fields in gloves?”
“Yes—why? Why gloves?”
Of course! Of course! The whole thing so beautifully planned!
The wrapping fell aside. Carefully, Miss Waynflete extracted the knife,holding it very carefully so as not to obliterate48 the fingerprints49 which werealready on it—where the short podgy fingers of Lord Whitfield had held itearlier that day in the drawing room at Ashe Manor9.
The Moorish50 knife with the sharp blade.
Bridget felt slightly sick. She must play for time—yes and she must makethe woman talk—this lean, grey woman whom nobody loved. It ought notto be difficult—not really. Because she must want to talk, oh, so badly—and the only person she could ever talk to was someone like Bridget—someone who was going to be silenced for ever.
Bridget said—in a faint, thick voice:
“What’s—that—knife?”
And then Miss Waynflete laughed.
It was a horrible laugh, soft and musical and ladylike, and quite inhu-man. She said:
“It’s for you, Bridget. For you! I’ve hated you, you know, for a very longtime.”
Bridget said:
“Because I was going to marry Gordon Whitfield?”
Miss Waynflete nodded.
“You’re clever. You’re quite clever! This, you see, will be the crowningproof against him. You’ll be found here, with your throat cut—and—hisknife, and his fingerprints on the knife! Clever the way I asked to see it thismorning!
“And then I slipped it into my bag wrapped in a handkerchief whilst youwere upstairs. So easy! But the whole thing has been easy. I would hardlyhave believed it.”
Bridget said — still in the thick, muffled51 voice of a person heavilydrugged:
“That’s—because—you’re—so—devilishly—clever….”
Miss Waynflete laughed her ladylike little laugh again. She said with ahorrible kind of pride:
“Yes, I always had brains, even as a girl! But they wouldn’t let me doanything…I had to stay at home—doing nothing. And then Gordon—just acommon boot-maker’s son, but he had ambition, I knew. I knew he wouldrise in the world. And he jilted me—jilted me! All because of that ridicu-lous business with the bird.”
Her hands made a queer gesture as though she were twisting some-thing.
Again a wave of sickness passed over Bridget.
“Gordon Ragg daring to jilt me—Colonel Waynflete’s daughter! I sworeI’d pay him out for that! I used to think about it night after night…Andthen we got poorer and poorer. The house had to be sold. He bought it! Hecame along patronizing me, offering me a job in my own old home. How Ihated him then! But I never showed my feelings. We were taught that asgirls—a most valuable training. That, I always think, is where breedingtells.”
She was silent a minute. Bridget watched her, hardly daring to breathelest she should stem the flow of words.
Miss Waynflete went on softly:
“All the time I was thinking and thinking…First of all I just thought ofkilling him. That’s when I began to read up criminology — quietly, youknow—in the library. And really I found my reading came in most usefulmore than once later. The door of Amy’s room, for instance, turning thekey in the lock from the outside with pincers after I’d changed the bottlesby her bed. How she snored, that girl, quite disgusting, it was!”
She paused.
“Let me see, where was I?”
That gift which Bridget had cultivated, which had charmed Lord Whit-field, the gift of the perfect listener, stood her in good stead now. HonoriaWaynflete might be a homicidal maniac53 but she was also something muchmore common than that. She was a human being who wanted to talkabout herself. And with that class of human being Bridget was well fittedto cope.
She said, and her voice had exactly the right invitation in it:
“You meant at first to kill him—”
“Yes, but that didn’t satisfy me—much too ordinary—it had to be some-thing better than just killing52. And then I got this idea. It just came to me.
He should suffer for committing a lot of crimes of which he was quite in-nocent. He should be a murderer! He should be hanged for my crimes. Orelse they’d say he was mad and he would be shut up all his life…Thatmight be even better.”
She giggled55 now. A horrible little giggle54…Her eyes were light and staringwith queer elongated56 pupils.
“As I told you, I read a lot of books on crime. I chose my victims care-fully—there was not to be too much suspicion at first. You see,” her voicedeepened, “I enjoyed the killing…That disagreeable woman, Lydia Horton—she’d patronized me—once she referred to me as an old maid. I was gladwhen Gordon quarrelled with her. Two birds with one stone, I thought!
Such fun, sitting by her bedside and slipping the arsenic57 in her tea, andthen going out and telling the nurse how Mrs. Horton had complained ofthe bitter taste of Lord Whitfield’s grapes! The stupid woman never re-peated that, which was such a pity.
“And then the others! As soon as I heard that Gordon had a grievanceagainst anyone, it was so easy to arrange for an accident! And he was sucha fool—such an incredible fool! I made him believe that there was some-thing very special about him! That anyone who went against him suffered.
He believed it quite easily. Poor dear Gordon, he’d believe anything. Sogullible!”
Bridget thought of herself saying to Luke scornfully:
“Gordon! He could believe anything!”
Easy? How easy! Poor pompous58 credulous59 little Gordon.
But she must learn more! Easy? This was easy too! She’d done it as a sec-retary for years. Quietly encouraged her employers to talk about them-selves. And this woman wanted badly to talk, to boast about her own clev-erness.
Bridget murmured:
“But how did you manage it all? I don’t see how you could.”
“Oh, it was quite easy! It just needed organisation60! When Amy was dis-charged from the Manor I engaged her at once. I think the hat paint ideawas quite clever—and the door being locked on the inside made me quitesafe. But of course I was always safe because I never had any motive61, andyou can’t suspect anyone of murder if there isn’t a motive. Carter wasquite easy too—he was lurching about in the fog and I caught up with himon the footbridge and gave him a quick push. I’m really very strong, youknow.”
She paused and the soft horrible little giggle came again.
“The whole thing was such fun! I shall never forget Tommy’s face when Ipushed him off the windowsill that day. He hadn’t the least idea….”
She leaned towards Bridget confidentially62.
“People are really very stupid, you know. I’d never realized that before.”
Bridget said very softly:
“But then—you’re unusually clever.”
“Yes—yes—perhaps you’re right.”
Bridget said:
“Dr. Humbleby—that must have been more difficult?”
“Yes, it was really amazing how that succeeded. It might not haveworked, of course. But Gordon had been talking to everybody of his visitto the Wellerman Kreutz Institute, and I thought if I could manage it sothat people remembered that visit and connected it afterwards. AndWonky Pooh’s ear was really very nasty, a lot of discharge. I managed torun the point of my scissors into the doctor’s hand, and then I was so dis-tressed and insisted on putting on a dressing63 and bandaging it up. Hedidn’t know the dressing had been infected first from Wonky Pooh’s ear.
Of course, it mightn’t have worked—it was just a long shot. I was delightedwhen it did—especially as Wonky Pooh had been Lavinia’s cat.”
Her face darkened.
“Lavinia Pinkerton! She guessed… It was she who found Tommy thatday. And then when Gordon and old Dr. Humbleby had that row, shecaught me looking at Humbleby. I was off my guard. I was just wonderingexactly how I’d do it…And she knew! I turned round to find her watchingme and—I gave myself away. I saw that she knew. She couldn’t prove any-thing, of course. I knew that. But I was afraid all the same someone mightbelieve her. I was afraid they might believe her at Scotland Yard. I feltsure that was where she was going that day. I was in the same train and Ifollowed her.
“The whole thing was so easy. She was on an island crossing Whitehall. Iwas close behind her. She never saw me. A big car came along and Ishoved with all my might. I’m very strong! She went right down in front ofit. I told the woman next to me I’d seen the number of the car and gaveher the number of Gordon’s Rolls. I hoped she’d repeat it to the police.
“It was lucky the car didn’t stop. Some chauffeur64 joyriding without hismaster’s knowledge, I suspect. Yes, I was lucky there. I’m always lucky.
That scene the other day with Rivers, and Luke Fitzwilliam as witness. I’vehad such fun leading him along! Odd how difficult it was to make him sus-pect Gordon. But after Rivers’s death he would be sure to do so. He must!
“And now—well, this will just finish the whole thing nicely.”
She got up and came towards Bridget. She said softly:
“Gordon jilted me! He was going to marry you. All my life I’ve been dis-appointed. I’ve had nothing—nothing at all….”
“O lean grey woman whom nobody loves…”
She was bending over her, smiling, with mad light eyes… The knifegleamed….
With all her youth and strength, Bridget sprang. Like a tiger cat, sheflung herself full force on the other woman, knocking her back, seizingher right wrist.
Taken by surprise, Honoria Waynflete fell back before the onslaught.
But then, after a moment’s inertia65, she began to fight. In strength therewas no comparison between them. Bridget was young and healthy withmuscles toughened by games. Honoria Waynflete was a slender-built, frailcreature.
But there was one factor on which Bridget had not reckoned. HonoriaWaynflete was mad. Her strength was the strength of the insane. Shefought like a devil and her insane strength was stronger than the sanemuscled strength of Bridget. They swayed to and fro, and still Bridgetstrove to wrest66 the knife away from her, and still Honoria Waynflete hungon to it.
And then, little by little, the mad woman’s strength began to prevail.
Bridget cried out now:
“Luke…Help…Help…”
But she had no hope of help coming. She and Honoria Waynflete werealone. Alone in a dead world. With a supreme effort she wrenched67 theother’s wrist back, and at last she heard the knife fall.
The next minute Honoria Waynflete’s two hands had fastened roundher neck in a maniac grasp, squeezing the life out of her. She gave one lastchoked cry….
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收听单词发音
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reiterate
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| v.重申，反复地说 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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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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abruptly
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den
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preened
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remarkably
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elusive
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manor
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irritably
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parlance
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supreme
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undoubtedly
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groaned
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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melodrama
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cocktail
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refreshment
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decided
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bustled
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fragrant
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beverage
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doorway
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respite
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affected
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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tickling
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| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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iodine
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| n.碘，碘酒 | |
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retailed
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| vt.零售（retail的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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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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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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density
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| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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obliterate
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| v.擦去，涂抹，去掉...痕迹，消失，除去 | |
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fingerprints
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| n.指纹( fingerprint的名词复数 )v.指纹( fingerprint的第三人称单数 ) | |
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moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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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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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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elongated
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| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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arsenic
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| n.砒霜，砷；adj.砷的 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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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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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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wrest
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| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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