【英文短篇小说】The Tunnel Under The World(2)
时间:2019-02-16 作者:英语课 分类:英文短篇小说
英语课
Burckhardt loosened his tie and ordered another Frosty-Flip from the waiter. If only they wouldn't keep the Crystal Cafe so hot! The new paint job—searing reds and blinding yellows—was bad enough, but someone seemed to have the delusion 1 that this was January instead of June; the place was a good ten degrees warmer than outside.
He swallowed the Frosty-Flip in two gulps 2. It had a kind of peculiar 3 flavor, he thought, but not bad. It certainly cooled you off, just as the waiter had promised. He reminded himself to pick up a carton of them on the way home; Mary might like them. She was always interested in something new.
He stood up awkwardly as the girl came across the restaurant toward him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in Tylerton. Chin-height, honey-blonde hair and a figure that—well, it was all hers. There was no doubt in the world that the dress that clung to her was the only thing she wore. He felt as if he were blushing as she greeted him.
"Mr. Burckhardt." The voice was like distant tomtoms. "It's wonderful of you to let me see you, after this morning."
He cleared his throat. "Not at all. Won't you sit down, Miss—"
"April Horn," she murmured, sitting down—beside him, not where he had pointed 4 on the other side of the table. "Call me April, won't you?"
She was wearing some kind of perfume, Burckhardt noted 5 with what little of his mind was functioning at all. It didn't seem fair that she should be using perfume as well as everything else. He came to with a start and realized that the waiter was leaving with an order for filets mignon for two.
"Hey!" he objected.
"Please, Mr. Burckhardt." Her shoulder was against his, her face was turned to him, her breath was warm, her expression was tender and solicitous 6. "This is all on the Feckle Corporation. Please let them—it's the least they can do."
He felt her hand burrowing 7 into his pocket.
"I put the price of the meal into your pocket," she whispered conspiratorially 8. "Please do that for me, won't you? I mean I'd appreciate it if you'd pay the waiter—I'm old-fashioned about things like that."
She smiled meltingly, then became mock-businesslike. "But you must take the money," she insisted. "Why, you're letting Feckle off lightly if you do! You could sue them for every nickel they've got, disturbing your sleep like that."
With a dizzy feeling, as though he had just seen someone make a rabbit disappear into a top hat, he said, "Why, it really wasn't so bad, uh, April. A little noisy, maybe, but—"
"Oh, Mr. Burckhardt!" The blue eyes were wide and admiring. "I knew you'd understand. It's just that—well, it's such a wonderful freezer that some of the outside men get carried away, so to speak. As soon as the main office found out about what happened, they sent representatives around to every house on the block to apologize. Your wife told us where we could phone you—and I'm so very pleased that you were willing to let me have lunch with you, so that I could apologize, too. Because truly, Mr. Burckhardt, it is a fine freezer.
"I shouldn't tell you this, but—" the blue eyes were shyly lowered—"I'd do almost anything for Feckle Freezers. It's more than a job to me." She looked up. She was enchanting 9. "I bet you think I'm silly, don't you?"
Burckhardt coughed. "Well, I—"
"Oh, you don't want to be unkind!" She shook her head. "No, don't pretend. You think it's silly. But really, Mr. Burckhardt, you wouldn't think so if you knew more about the Feckle. Let me show you this little booklet—"
Burckhardt got back from lunch a full hour late. It wasn't only the girl who delayed him. There had been a curious interview with a little man named Swanson, whom he barely knew, who had stopped him with desperate urgency on the street—and then left him cold.
But it didn't matter much. Mr. Barth, for the first time since Burckhardt had worked there, was out for the day—leaving Burckhardt stuck with the quarterly tax returns.
What did matter, though, was that somehow he had signed a purchase order for a twelve-cubic-foot Feckle Freezer, upright model, self-defrosting, list price $625, with a ten per cent "courtesy" discount—"Because of that horridaffair this morning, Mr. Burckhardt," she had said.
And he wasn't sure how he could explain it to his wife.
He needn't have worried. As he walked in the front door, his wife said almost immediately, "I wonder if we can't afford a new freezer, dear. There was a man here to apologize about that noise and—well, we got to talking and—"
She had signed a purchase order, too.
It had been the damnedest day, Burckhardt thought later, on his way up to bed. But the day wasn't done with him yet. At the head of the stairs, the weakened spring in the electric light switch refused to click at all. He snapped it back and forth 10 angrily and, of course, succeeded in jarring the tumbler out of its pins. The wires shorted and every light in the house went out.
"Damn!" said Guy Burckhardt.
"Fuse?" His wife shrugged 11 sleepily. "Let it go till the morning, dear."
Burckhardt shook his head. "You go back to bed. I'll be right along."
It wasn't so much that he cared about fixing the fuse, but he was too restless for sleep. He disconnected the bad switch with a screwdriver 12, stumbled down into the black kitchen, found the flashlight and climbed gingerly down the cellar stairs. He located a spare fuse, pushed an empty trunk over to the fuse box to stand on and twisted out the old fuse.
When the new one was in, he heard the starting click and steady drone of the refrigerator in the kitchen overhead.
He headed back to the steps, and stopped.
Where the old trunk had been, the cellar floor gleamed oddly bright. He inspected it in the flashlight beam. It was metal!
"Son of a gun," said Guy Burckhardt. He shook his head unbelievingly. He peered closer, rubbed the edges of the metallic 13 patch with his thumb and acquired an annoying cut—the edges were sharp.
The stained cement floor of the cellar was a thin shell. He found a hammer and cracked it off in a dozen spots—everywhere was metal.
The whole cellar was a copper 14 box. Even the cement-brick walls were false fronts over a metal sheath!
Baffled, he attacked one of the foundation beams. That, at least, was real wood. The glass in the cellar windows was real glass.
He sucked his bleeding thumb and tried the base of the cellar stairs. Real wood. He chipped at the bricks under the oil burner. Real bricks. The retaining walls, the floor—they were faked.
It was as though someone had shored up the house with a frame of metal and then laboriously 15 concealed 16 the evidence.
The biggest surprise was the upside-down boat hull 17 that blocked the rear half of the cellar, relic 18 of a brief home workshop period that Burckhardt had gone through a couple of years before. From above, it looked perfectly 19 normal. Inside, though, where there should have been thwarts 20 and seats and lockers 21, there was a mere 22 tangle 23 of braces 24, rough and unfinished.
"But I built that!" Burckhardt exclaimed, forgetting his thumb. He leaned against the hull dizzily, trying to think this thing through. For reasons beyond his comprehension, someone had taken his boat and his cellar away, maybe his whole house, and replaced them with a clever mock-up of the real thing.
"That's crazy," he said to the empty cellar. He stared around in the light of the flash. He whispered, "What in the name of Heaven would anybody do that for?"
Reason refused an answer; there wasn't any reasonable answer. For long minutes, Burckhardt contemplated 25 the uncertain picture of his own sanity 26.
He peered under the boat again, hoping to reassure 27 himself that it was a mistake, just his imagination. But the sloppy 28, unfinished bracing 29 was unchanged. He crawled under for a better look, feeling the rough wood incredulously. Utterly 30 impossible!
He switched off the flashlight and started to wriggle 31 out. But he didn't make it. In the moment between the command to his legs to move and the crawling out, he felt a sudden draining weariness flooding through him.
Consciousness went—not easily, but as though it were being taken away, and Guy Burckhardt was asleep.
III
On the morning of June 16th, Guy Burckhardt woke up in a cramped 32 position huddled 33 under the hull of the boat in his basement—and raced upstairs to find it was June 15th.
The first thing he had done was to make a frantic 34, hasty inspection 35 of the boat hull, the faked cellar floor, the imitation stone. They were all as he had remembered them—all completely unbelievable.
The kitchen was its placid 36, unexciting self. The electric clock was purring soberly around the dial. Almost six o'clock, it said. His wife would be waking at any moment.
Burckhardt flung open the front door and stared out into the quiet street. The morning paper was tossed carelessly against the steps—and as he retrieved 37 it, he noticed that this was the 15th day of June.
But that was impossible. Yesterday was the 15th of June. It was not a date one would forget—it was quarterly tax-return day.
He went back into the hall and picked up the telephone; he dialed for Weather Information, and got a well-modulated chant: "—and cooler, some showers. Barometric 38 pressure thirty point zero four, rising ... United States Weather Bureau forecast for June 15th. Warm and sunny, with high around—"
He hung the phone up. June 15th.
"Holy heaven!" Burckhardt said prayerfully. Things were very odd indeed. He heard the ring of his wife's alarm and bounded up the stairs.
Mary Burckhardt was sitting upright in bed with the terrified, uncomprehending stare of someone just waking out of a nightmare.
"Oh!" she gasped 39, as her husband came in the room. "Darling, I just had the most terrible dream! It was like an explosion and—"
"Again?" Burckhardt asked, not very sympathetically. "Mary, something's funny! I knew there was something wrong all day yesterday and—"
He went on to tell her about the copper box that was the cellar, and the odd mock-up someone had made of his boat. Mary looked astonished, then alarmed, then placatory 40 and uneasy.
She said, "Dear, are you sure? Because I was cleaning that old trunk out just last week and I didn't notice anything."
"Positive!" said Guy Burckhardt. "I dragged it over to the wall to step on it to put a new fuse in after we blew the lights out and—"
"After we what?" Mary was looking more than merely alarmed.
"After we blew the lights out. You know, when the switch at the head of the stairs stuck. I went down to the cellar and—"
Mary sat up in bed. "Guy, the switch didn't stick. I turned out the lights myself last night."
Burckhardt glared at his wife. "Now I know you didn't! Come here and take a look!"
He stalked out to the landing and dramatically pointed to the bad switch, the one that he had unscrewed and left hanging the night before....
Only it wasn't. It was as it had always been. Unbelieving, Burckhardt pressed it and the lights sprang up in both halls.
Mary, looking pale and worried, left him to go down to the kitchen and start breakfast. Burckhardt stood staring at the switch for a long time. His mental processes were gone beyond the point of disbelief and shock; they simply were not functioning.
He shaved and dressed and ate his breakfast in a state of numb 41 introspection. Mary didn't disturb him; she was apprehensive 42 and soothing 43. She kissed him good-by as he hurried out to the bus without another word.
Miss Mitkin, at the reception desk, greeted him with a yawn. "Morning," she said drowsily 44. "Mr. Barth won't be in today."
Burckhardt started to say something, but checked himself. She would not know that Barth hadn't been in yesterday, either, because she was tearing a June 14th pad off her calendar to make way for the "new" June 15th sheet.
He staggered to his own desk and stared unseeingly at the morning's mail. It had not even been opened yet, but he knew that the Factory Distributors envelope contained an order for twenty thousand feet of the new acoustic 45 tile, and the one from Finebeck & Sons was a complaint.
After a long while, he forced himself to open them. They were.
By lunchtime, driven by a desperate sense of urgency, Burckhardt made Miss Mitkin take her lunch hour first—the June-fifteenth-that-was-yesterday, he had gone first. She went, looking vaguely 46 worried about his strained insistence 47, but it made no difference to Burckhardt's mood.
The phone rang and Burckhardt picked it up abstractedly. "Contro Chemicals Downtown, Burckhardt speaking."
The voice said, "This is Swanson," and stopped.
Burckhardt waited expectantly, but that was all. He said, "Hello?"
Again the pause. Then Swanson asked in sad resignation, "Still nothing, eh?"
"Nothing what? Swanson, is there something you want? You came up to me yesterday and went through this routine. You—"
The voice crackled: "Burckhardt! Oh, my good heavens, you remember! Stay right there—I'll be down in half an hour!"
"What's this all about?"
"Never mind," the little man said exultantly 48. "Tell you about it when I see you. Don't say any more over the phone—somebody may be listening. Just wait there. Say, hold on a minute. Will you be alone in the office?"
"Well, no. Miss Mitkin will probably—"
"Hell. Look, Burckhardt, where do you eat lunch? Is it good and noisy?"
"Why, I suppose so. The Crystal Cafe. It's just about a block—"
"I know where it is. Meet you in half an hour!" And the receiver clicked.
The Crystal Cafe was no longer painted red, but the temperature was still up. And they had added piped-in music interspersed 49 with commercials. The advertisements were for Frosty-Flip, Marlin Cigarettes—"They're sanitized," the announcer purred—and something called Choco-Bite candy bars that Burckhardt couldn't remember ever having heard of before. But he heard more about them quickly enough.
While he was waiting for Swanson to show up, a girl in the cellophane skirt of a nightclub cigarette vendor 50 came through the restaurant with a tray of tiny scarlet-wrapped candies.
"Choco-Bites are tangy," she was murmuring as she came close to his table. "Choco-Bites are tangier than tangy!"
Burckhardt, intent on watching for the strange little man who had phoned him, paid little attention. But as she scattered 51 a handful of the confections over the table next to his, smiling at the occupants, he caught a glimpse of her and turned to stare.
"Why, Miss Horn!" he said.
The girl dropped her tray of candies.
Burckhardt rose, concerned over the girl. "Is something wrong?"
But she fled.
The manager of the restaurant was staring suspiciously at Burckhardt, who sank back in his seat and tried to look inconspicuous. He hadn't insulted the girl! Maybe she was just a very strictly 52 reared young lady, he thought—in spite of the long bare legs under the cellophane skirt—and when he addressed her, she thought he was a masher.
Ridiculous idea. Burckhardt scowled 53 uneasily and picked up his menu.
"Burckhardt!" It was a shrill 54 whisper.
Burckhardt looked up over the top of his menu, startled. In the seat across from him, the little man named Swanson was sitting, tensely poised 55.
"Burckhardt!" the little man whispered again. "Let's get out of here! They're on to you now. If you want to stay alive, come on!"
There was no arguing with the man. Burckhardt gave the hovering 56 manager a sick, apologetic smile and followed Swanson out. The little man seemed to know where he was going. In the street, he clutched Burckhardt by the elbow and hurried him off down the block.
"Did you see her?" he demanded. "That Horn woman, in the phone booth? She'll have them here in five minutes, believe me, so hurry it up!"
Although the street was full of people and cars, nobody was paying any attention to Burckhardt and Swanson. The air had a nip in it—more like October than June, Burckhardt thought, in spite of the weather bureau. And he felt like a fool, following this mad little man down the street, running away from some "them" toward—toward what? The little man might be crazy, but he was afraid. And the fear was infectious.
"In here!" panted the little man.
It was another restaurant—more of a bar, really, and a sort of second-rate place that Burckhardt had never patronized.
"Right straight through," Swanson whispered; and Burckhardt, like a biddable boy, side-stepped through the mass of tables to the far end of the restaurant.
It was "L"-shaped, with a front on two streets at right angles to each other. They came out on the side street, Swanson staring coldly back at the question-looking cashier, and crossed to the opposite sidewalk.
They were under the marquee of a movie theater. Swanson's expression began to relax.
"Lost them!" he crowed softly. "We're almost there."
He stepped up to the window and bought two tickets. Burckhardt trailed him in to the theater. It was a weekday matinee and the place was almost empty. From the screen came sounds of gunfire and horse's hoofs 57. A solitary 58 usher 59, leaning against a bright brass 60 rail, looked briefly 61 at them and went back to staring boredly at the picture as Swanson led Burckhardt down a flight of carpeted marble steps.
They were in the lounge and it was empty. There was a door for men and one for ladies; and there was a third door, marked "MANAGER" in gold letters. Swanson listened at the door, and gently opened it and peered inside.
"Okay," he said, gesturing.
Burckhardt followed him through an empty office, to another door—a closet, probably, because it was unmarked.
But it was no closet. Swanson opened it warily 62, looked inside, then motioned Burckhardt to follow.
It was a tunnel, metal-walled, brightly lit. Empty, it stretched vacantly away in both directions from them.
Burckhardt looked wondering around. One thing he knew and knew full well:
No such tunnel belonged under Tylerton.
There was a room off the tunnel with chairs and a desk and what looked like television screens. Swanson slumped 63 in a chair, panting.
He swallowed the Frosty-Flip in two gulps 2. It had a kind of peculiar 3 flavor, he thought, but not bad. It certainly cooled you off, just as the waiter had promised. He reminded himself to pick up a carton of them on the way home; Mary might like them. She was always interested in something new.
He stood up awkwardly as the girl came across the restaurant toward him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in Tylerton. Chin-height, honey-blonde hair and a figure that—well, it was all hers. There was no doubt in the world that the dress that clung to her was the only thing she wore. He felt as if he were blushing as she greeted him.
"Mr. Burckhardt." The voice was like distant tomtoms. "It's wonderful of you to let me see you, after this morning."
He cleared his throat. "Not at all. Won't you sit down, Miss—"
"April Horn," she murmured, sitting down—beside him, not where he had pointed 4 on the other side of the table. "Call me April, won't you?"
She was wearing some kind of perfume, Burckhardt noted 5 with what little of his mind was functioning at all. It didn't seem fair that she should be using perfume as well as everything else. He came to with a start and realized that the waiter was leaving with an order for filets mignon for two.
"Hey!" he objected.
"Please, Mr. Burckhardt." Her shoulder was against his, her face was turned to him, her breath was warm, her expression was tender and solicitous 6. "This is all on the Feckle Corporation. Please let them—it's the least they can do."
He felt her hand burrowing 7 into his pocket.
"I put the price of the meal into your pocket," she whispered conspiratorially 8. "Please do that for me, won't you? I mean I'd appreciate it if you'd pay the waiter—I'm old-fashioned about things like that."
She smiled meltingly, then became mock-businesslike. "But you must take the money," she insisted. "Why, you're letting Feckle off lightly if you do! You could sue them for every nickel they've got, disturbing your sleep like that."
With a dizzy feeling, as though he had just seen someone make a rabbit disappear into a top hat, he said, "Why, it really wasn't so bad, uh, April. A little noisy, maybe, but—"
"Oh, Mr. Burckhardt!" The blue eyes were wide and admiring. "I knew you'd understand. It's just that—well, it's such a wonderful freezer that some of the outside men get carried away, so to speak. As soon as the main office found out about what happened, they sent representatives around to every house on the block to apologize. Your wife told us where we could phone you—and I'm so very pleased that you were willing to let me have lunch with you, so that I could apologize, too. Because truly, Mr. Burckhardt, it is a fine freezer.
"I shouldn't tell you this, but—" the blue eyes were shyly lowered—"I'd do almost anything for Feckle Freezers. It's more than a job to me." She looked up. She was enchanting 9. "I bet you think I'm silly, don't you?"
Burckhardt coughed. "Well, I—"
"Oh, you don't want to be unkind!" She shook her head. "No, don't pretend. You think it's silly. But really, Mr. Burckhardt, you wouldn't think so if you knew more about the Feckle. Let me show you this little booklet—"
Burckhardt got back from lunch a full hour late. It wasn't only the girl who delayed him. There had been a curious interview with a little man named Swanson, whom he barely knew, who had stopped him with desperate urgency on the street—and then left him cold.
But it didn't matter much. Mr. Barth, for the first time since Burckhardt had worked there, was out for the day—leaving Burckhardt stuck with the quarterly tax returns.
What did matter, though, was that somehow he had signed a purchase order for a twelve-cubic-foot Feckle Freezer, upright model, self-defrosting, list price $625, with a ten per cent "courtesy" discount—"Because of that horridaffair this morning, Mr. Burckhardt," she had said.
And he wasn't sure how he could explain it to his wife.
He needn't have worried. As he walked in the front door, his wife said almost immediately, "I wonder if we can't afford a new freezer, dear. There was a man here to apologize about that noise and—well, we got to talking and—"
She had signed a purchase order, too.
It had been the damnedest day, Burckhardt thought later, on his way up to bed. But the day wasn't done with him yet. At the head of the stairs, the weakened spring in the electric light switch refused to click at all. He snapped it back and forth 10 angrily and, of course, succeeded in jarring the tumbler out of its pins. The wires shorted and every light in the house went out.
"Damn!" said Guy Burckhardt.
"Fuse?" His wife shrugged 11 sleepily. "Let it go till the morning, dear."
Burckhardt shook his head. "You go back to bed. I'll be right along."
It wasn't so much that he cared about fixing the fuse, but he was too restless for sleep. He disconnected the bad switch with a screwdriver 12, stumbled down into the black kitchen, found the flashlight and climbed gingerly down the cellar stairs. He located a spare fuse, pushed an empty trunk over to the fuse box to stand on and twisted out the old fuse.
When the new one was in, he heard the starting click and steady drone of the refrigerator in the kitchen overhead.
He headed back to the steps, and stopped.
Where the old trunk had been, the cellar floor gleamed oddly bright. He inspected it in the flashlight beam. It was metal!
"Son of a gun," said Guy Burckhardt. He shook his head unbelievingly. He peered closer, rubbed the edges of the metallic 13 patch with his thumb and acquired an annoying cut—the edges were sharp.
The stained cement floor of the cellar was a thin shell. He found a hammer and cracked it off in a dozen spots—everywhere was metal.
The whole cellar was a copper 14 box. Even the cement-brick walls were false fronts over a metal sheath!
Baffled, he attacked one of the foundation beams. That, at least, was real wood. The glass in the cellar windows was real glass.
He sucked his bleeding thumb and tried the base of the cellar stairs. Real wood. He chipped at the bricks under the oil burner. Real bricks. The retaining walls, the floor—they were faked.
It was as though someone had shored up the house with a frame of metal and then laboriously 15 concealed 16 the evidence.
The biggest surprise was the upside-down boat hull 17 that blocked the rear half of the cellar, relic 18 of a brief home workshop period that Burckhardt had gone through a couple of years before. From above, it looked perfectly 19 normal. Inside, though, where there should have been thwarts 20 and seats and lockers 21, there was a mere 22 tangle 23 of braces 24, rough and unfinished.
"But I built that!" Burckhardt exclaimed, forgetting his thumb. He leaned against the hull dizzily, trying to think this thing through. For reasons beyond his comprehension, someone had taken his boat and his cellar away, maybe his whole house, and replaced them with a clever mock-up of the real thing.
"That's crazy," he said to the empty cellar. He stared around in the light of the flash. He whispered, "What in the name of Heaven would anybody do that for?"
Reason refused an answer; there wasn't any reasonable answer. For long minutes, Burckhardt contemplated 25 the uncertain picture of his own sanity 26.
He peered under the boat again, hoping to reassure 27 himself that it was a mistake, just his imagination. But the sloppy 28, unfinished bracing 29 was unchanged. He crawled under for a better look, feeling the rough wood incredulously. Utterly 30 impossible!
He switched off the flashlight and started to wriggle 31 out. But he didn't make it. In the moment between the command to his legs to move and the crawling out, he felt a sudden draining weariness flooding through him.
Consciousness went—not easily, but as though it were being taken away, and Guy Burckhardt was asleep.
III
On the morning of June 16th, Guy Burckhardt woke up in a cramped 32 position huddled 33 under the hull of the boat in his basement—and raced upstairs to find it was June 15th.
The first thing he had done was to make a frantic 34, hasty inspection 35 of the boat hull, the faked cellar floor, the imitation stone. They were all as he had remembered them—all completely unbelievable.
The kitchen was its placid 36, unexciting self. The electric clock was purring soberly around the dial. Almost six o'clock, it said. His wife would be waking at any moment.
Burckhardt flung open the front door and stared out into the quiet street. The morning paper was tossed carelessly against the steps—and as he retrieved 37 it, he noticed that this was the 15th day of June.
But that was impossible. Yesterday was the 15th of June. It was not a date one would forget—it was quarterly tax-return day.
He went back into the hall and picked up the telephone; he dialed for Weather Information, and got a well-modulated chant: "—and cooler, some showers. Barometric 38 pressure thirty point zero four, rising ... United States Weather Bureau forecast for June 15th. Warm and sunny, with high around—"
He hung the phone up. June 15th.
"Holy heaven!" Burckhardt said prayerfully. Things were very odd indeed. He heard the ring of his wife's alarm and bounded up the stairs.
Mary Burckhardt was sitting upright in bed with the terrified, uncomprehending stare of someone just waking out of a nightmare.
"Oh!" she gasped 39, as her husband came in the room. "Darling, I just had the most terrible dream! It was like an explosion and—"
"Again?" Burckhardt asked, not very sympathetically. "Mary, something's funny! I knew there was something wrong all day yesterday and—"
He went on to tell her about the copper box that was the cellar, and the odd mock-up someone had made of his boat. Mary looked astonished, then alarmed, then placatory 40 and uneasy.
She said, "Dear, are you sure? Because I was cleaning that old trunk out just last week and I didn't notice anything."
"Positive!" said Guy Burckhardt. "I dragged it over to the wall to step on it to put a new fuse in after we blew the lights out and—"
"After we what?" Mary was looking more than merely alarmed.
"After we blew the lights out. You know, when the switch at the head of the stairs stuck. I went down to the cellar and—"
Mary sat up in bed. "Guy, the switch didn't stick. I turned out the lights myself last night."
Burckhardt glared at his wife. "Now I know you didn't! Come here and take a look!"
He stalked out to the landing and dramatically pointed to the bad switch, the one that he had unscrewed and left hanging the night before....
Only it wasn't. It was as it had always been. Unbelieving, Burckhardt pressed it and the lights sprang up in both halls.
Mary, looking pale and worried, left him to go down to the kitchen and start breakfast. Burckhardt stood staring at the switch for a long time. His mental processes were gone beyond the point of disbelief and shock; they simply were not functioning.
He shaved and dressed and ate his breakfast in a state of numb 41 introspection. Mary didn't disturb him; she was apprehensive 42 and soothing 43. She kissed him good-by as he hurried out to the bus without another word.
Miss Mitkin, at the reception desk, greeted him with a yawn. "Morning," she said drowsily 44. "Mr. Barth won't be in today."
Burckhardt started to say something, but checked himself. She would not know that Barth hadn't been in yesterday, either, because she was tearing a June 14th pad off her calendar to make way for the "new" June 15th sheet.
He staggered to his own desk and stared unseeingly at the morning's mail. It had not even been opened yet, but he knew that the Factory Distributors envelope contained an order for twenty thousand feet of the new acoustic 45 tile, and the one from Finebeck & Sons was a complaint.
After a long while, he forced himself to open them. They were.
By lunchtime, driven by a desperate sense of urgency, Burckhardt made Miss Mitkin take her lunch hour first—the June-fifteenth-that-was-yesterday, he had gone first. She went, looking vaguely 46 worried about his strained insistence 47, but it made no difference to Burckhardt's mood.
The phone rang and Burckhardt picked it up abstractedly. "Contro Chemicals Downtown, Burckhardt speaking."
The voice said, "This is Swanson," and stopped.
Burckhardt waited expectantly, but that was all. He said, "Hello?"
Again the pause. Then Swanson asked in sad resignation, "Still nothing, eh?"
"Nothing what? Swanson, is there something you want? You came up to me yesterday and went through this routine. You—"
The voice crackled: "Burckhardt! Oh, my good heavens, you remember! Stay right there—I'll be down in half an hour!"
"What's this all about?"
"Never mind," the little man said exultantly 48. "Tell you about it when I see you. Don't say any more over the phone—somebody may be listening. Just wait there. Say, hold on a minute. Will you be alone in the office?"
"Well, no. Miss Mitkin will probably—"
"Hell. Look, Burckhardt, where do you eat lunch? Is it good and noisy?"
"Why, I suppose so. The Crystal Cafe. It's just about a block—"
"I know where it is. Meet you in half an hour!" And the receiver clicked.
The Crystal Cafe was no longer painted red, but the temperature was still up. And they had added piped-in music interspersed 49 with commercials. The advertisements were for Frosty-Flip, Marlin Cigarettes—"They're sanitized," the announcer purred—and something called Choco-Bite candy bars that Burckhardt couldn't remember ever having heard of before. But he heard more about them quickly enough.
While he was waiting for Swanson to show up, a girl in the cellophane skirt of a nightclub cigarette vendor 50 came through the restaurant with a tray of tiny scarlet-wrapped candies.
"Choco-Bites are tangy," she was murmuring as she came close to his table. "Choco-Bites are tangier than tangy!"
Burckhardt, intent on watching for the strange little man who had phoned him, paid little attention. But as she scattered 51 a handful of the confections over the table next to his, smiling at the occupants, he caught a glimpse of her and turned to stare.
"Why, Miss Horn!" he said.
The girl dropped her tray of candies.
Burckhardt rose, concerned over the girl. "Is something wrong?"
But she fled.
The manager of the restaurant was staring suspiciously at Burckhardt, who sank back in his seat and tried to look inconspicuous. He hadn't insulted the girl! Maybe she was just a very strictly 52 reared young lady, he thought—in spite of the long bare legs under the cellophane skirt—and when he addressed her, she thought he was a masher.
Ridiculous idea. Burckhardt scowled 53 uneasily and picked up his menu.
"Burckhardt!" It was a shrill 54 whisper.
Burckhardt looked up over the top of his menu, startled. In the seat across from him, the little man named Swanson was sitting, tensely poised 55.
"Burckhardt!" the little man whispered again. "Let's get out of here! They're on to you now. If you want to stay alive, come on!"
There was no arguing with the man. Burckhardt gave the hovering 56 manager a sick, apologetic smile and followed Swanson out. The little man seemed to know where he was going. In the street, he clutched Burckhardt by the elbow and hurried him off down the block.
"Did you see her?" he demanded. "That Horn woman, in the phone booth? She'll have them here in five minutes, believe me, so hurry it up!"
Although the street was full of people and cars, nobody was paying any attention to Burckhardt and Swanson. The air had a nip in it—more like October than June, Burckhardt thought, in spite of the weather bureau. And he felt like a fool, following this mad little man down the street, running away from some "them" toward—toward what? The little man might be crazy, but he was afraid. And the fear was infectious.
"In here!" panted the little man.
It was another restaurant—more of a bar, really, and a sort of second-rate place that Burckhardt had never patronized.
"Right straight through," Swanson whispered; and Burckhardt, like a biddable boy, side-stepped through the mass of tables to the far end of the restaurant.
It was "L"-shaped, with a front on two streets at right angles to each other. They came out on the side street, Swanson staring coldly back at the question-looking cashier, and crossed to the opposite sidewalk.
They were under the marquee of a movie theater. Swanson's expression began to relax.
"Lost them!" he crowed softly. "We're almost there."
He stepped up to the window and bought two tickets. Burckhardt trailed him in to the theater. It was a weekday matinee and the place was almost empty. From the screen came sounds of gunfire and horse's hoofs 57. A solitary 58 usher 59, leaning against a bright brass 60 rail, looked briefly 61 at them and went back to staring boredly at the picture as Swanson led Burckhardt down a flight of carpeted marble steps.
They were in the lounge and it was empty. There was a door for men and one for ladies; and there was a third door, marked "MANAGER" in gold letters. Swanson listened at the door, and gently opened it and peered inside.
"Okay," he said, gesturing.
Burckhardt followed him through an empty office, to another door—a closet, probably, because it was unmarked.
But it was no closet. Swanson opened it warily 62, looked inside, then motioned Burckhardt to follow.
It was a tunnel, metal-walled, brightly lit. Empty, it stretched vacantly away in both directions from them.
Burckhardt looked wondering around. One thing he knew and knew full well:
No such tunnel belonged under Tylerton.
There was a room off the tunnel with chairs and a desk and what looked like television screens. Swanson slumped 63 in a chair, panting.
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑
- He is under the delusion that he is Napoleon.他患了妄想症,认为自己是拿破仑。
- I was under the delusion that he intended to marry me.我误认为他要娶我。
n.一大口(尤指液体)( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃,吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 );大口地吸(气);哽住
- He often gulps down a sob. 他经常忍气吞声地生活。 来自辞典例句
- JERRY: Why don't you make a point with your own doctor? (George gulps) What's wrong? 杰瑞:你为啥不对你自个儿的医生表明立场?有啥问题吗? 来自互联网
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的
- He walks in a peculiar fashion.他走路的样子很奇特。
- He looked at me with a very peculiar expression.他用一种很奇怪的表情看着我。
adj.尖的,直截了当的
- He gave me a very sharp pointed pencil.他给我一支削得非常尖的铅笔。
- She wished to show Mrs.John Dashwood by this pointed invitation to her brother.她想通过对达茨伍德夫人提出直截了当的邀请向她的哥哥表示出来。
adj.著名的,知名的
- The local hotel is noted for its good table.当地的那家酒店以餐食精美而著称。
- Jim is noted for arriving late for work.吉姆上班迟到出了名。
adj.热切的,挂念的
- He was so solicitous of his guests.他对他的客人们非常关切。
- I am solicitous of his help.我渴得到他的帮助。
v.挖掘(洞穴),挖洞( burrow的现在分词 );翻寻
- What are you burrowing around in my drawer for? 你在我抽屉里乱翻什么? 来自《简明英汉词典》
- The forepaws are also used for burrowing and for dragging heavier logs. 它们的前爪还可以用来打洞和拖拽较重的树干。 来自辞典例句
a.讨人喜欢的
- His smile, at once enchanting and melancholy, is just his father's. 他那种既迷人又有些忧郁的微笑,活脱儿象他父亲。
- Its interior was an enchanting place that both lured and frightened me. 它的里头是个吸引人的地方,我又向往又害怕。
adv.向前;向外,往外
- The wind moved the trees gently back and forth.风吹得树轻轻地来回摇晃。
- He gave forth a series of works in rapid succession.他很快连续发表了一系列的作品。
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式)
- Sam shrugged and said nothing. 萨姆耸耸肩膀,什么也没说。
- She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 她耸耸肩,装出一副无所谓的样子。 来自《简明英汉词典》
n.螺丝起子;伏特加橙汁鸡尾酒
- He took a screwdriver and teased out the remaining screws.他拿出螺丝刀把其余的螺丝卸了下来。
- The electric drill can also be used as a screwdriver.这把电钻也可用作螺丝刀。
adj.金属的;金属制的;含金属的;产金属的;像金属的
- A sharp metallic note coming from the outside frightened me.外面传来尖锐铿锵的声音吓了我一跳。
- He picked up a metallic ring last night.昨夜他捡了一个金属戒指。
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的
- The students are asked to prove the purity of copper.要求学生们检验铜的纯度。
- Copper is a good medium for the conduction of heat and electricity.铜是热和电的良导体。
adv.艰苦地;费力地;辛勤地;(文体等)佶屈聱牙地
- She is tracing laboriously now. 她正在费力地写。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- She is laboriously copying out an old manuscript. 她正在费劲地抄出一份旧的手稿。 来自辞典例句
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的
- The paintings were concealed beneath a thick layer of plaster. 那些画被隐藏在厚厚的灰泥层下面。
- I think he had a gun concealed about his person. 我认为他当时身上藏有一支枪。
n.船身;(果、实等的)外壳;vt.去(谷物等)壳
- The outer surface of ship's hull is very hard.船体的外表面非常坚硬。
- The boat's hull has been staved in by the tremendous seas.小船壳让巨浪打穿了。
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物
- This stone axe is a relic of ancient times.这石斧是古代的遗物。
- He found himself thinking of the man as a relic from the past.他把这个男人看成是过去时代的人物。
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地
- The witnesses were each perfectly certain of what they said.证人们个个对自己所说的话十分肯定。
- Everything that we're doing is all perfectly above board.我们做的每件事情都是光明正大的。
阻挠( thwart的第三人称单数 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过
- Matcham steady and alert, at a sign from Dick, ran along the thwarts and leaped ashore. 麦青机警、镇静地照着狄克向他做的手势,急急地沿着船上的座板,跳到岸上。
- He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. 躺在坐板下面,气喘吁吁地等着开船。
n.寄物柜( locker的名词复数 )
- I care about more lockers for the teachers. 我关心教师要有更多的储物柜。 来自辞典例句
- Passengers are requested to stow their hand-baggage in the lockers above the seats. 旅客须将随身携带的行李放入座位上方的贮藏柜里。 来自辞典例句
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过
- That is a mere repetition of what you said before.那不过是重复了你以前讲的话。
- It's a mere waste of time waiting any longer.再等下去纯粹是浪费时间。
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱
- I shouldn't tangle with Peter.He is bigger than me.我不应该与彼特吵架。他的块头比我大。
- If I were you, I wouldn't tangle with them.我要是你,我就不跟他们争吵。
n.吊带,背带;托架( brace的名词复数 );箍子;括弧;(儿童)牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 );撑牢;使自己站稳;振作起来
- The table is shaky because the braces are loose. 这张桌子摇摇晃晃,因为支架全松了。
- You don't need braces if you're wearing a belt! 要系腰带,就用不着吊带了。
n.心智健全,神智正常,判断正确
- I doubt the sanity of such a plan.我怀疑这个计划是否明智。
- She managed to keep her sanity throughout the ordeal.在那场磨难中她始终保持神志正常。
v.使放心,使消除疑虑
- This seemed to reassure him and he continued more confidently.这似乎使他放心一点,于是他更有信心地继续说了下去。
- The airline tried to reassure the customers that the planes were safe.航空公司尽力让乘客相信飞机是安全的。
adj.邋遢的,不整洁的
- If you do such sloppy work again,I promise I'll fail you.要是下次作业你再马马虎虎,我话说在头里,可要给你打不及格了。
- Mother constantly picked at him for being sloppy.母亲不断地批评他懒散。
adj.令人振奋的
- The country is bracing itself for the threatened enemy invasion. 这个国家正准备奋起抵抗敌人的入侵威胁。
- The atmosphere in the new government was bracing. 新政府的气氛是令人振奋的。
adv.完全地,绝对地
- Utterly devoted to the people,he gave his life in saving his patients.他忠于人民,把毕生精力用于挽救患者的生命。
- I was utterly ravished by the way she smiled.她的微笑使我完全陶醉了。
v./n.蠕动,扭动;蜿蜒
- I've got an appointment I can't wriggle out of.我有个推脱不掉的约会。
- Children wriggle themselves when they are bored.小孩子感到厌烦时就会扭动他们的身体。
a.狭窄的
- The house was terribly small and cramped, but the agent described it as a bijou residence. 房子十分狭小拥挤,但经纪人却把它说成是小巧别致的住宅。
- working in cramped conditions 在拥挤的环境里工作
挤在一起(huddle的过去式与过去分词形式)
- We huddled together for warmth. 我们挤在一块取暖。
- We huddled together to keep warm. 我们挤在一起来保暖。
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的
- I've had a frantic rush to get my work done.我急急忙忙地赶完工作。
- He made frantic dash for the departing train.他发疯似地冲向正开出的火车。
n.检查,审查,检阅
- On random inspection the meat was found to be bad.经抽查,发现肉变质了。
- The soldiers lined up for their daily inspection by their officers.士兵们列队接受军官的日常检阅。
adj.安静的,平和的
- He had been leading a placid life for the past eight years.八年来他一直过着平静的生活。
- You should be in a placid mood and have a heart-to- heart talk with her.你应该心平气和的好好和她谈谈心。
v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 );恢复;寻回;检索(储存的信息)
- Yesterday I retrieved the bag I left in the train. 昨天我取回了遗留在火车上的包。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- He reached over and retrieved his jacket from the back seat. 他伸手从后座上取回了自己的夹克。 来自辞典例句
大气压力
- Electricity compensates for barometric pressure as well as system pressure variations. 用电补偿大气压和系统压力的变化。
- A barometric altimeter indicates height above sea level or some other selected elevation. 气压高度表用以指示海平面或另外某个被选定高度以上的高度。
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要
- She gasped at the wonderful view. 如此美景使她惊讶得屏住了呼吸。
- People gasped with admiration at the superb skill of the gymnasts. 体操运动员的高超技艺令人赞叹。 来自《现代汉英综合大词典》
adj.安抚的,抚慰的
- Music must never be comfortable, never become a museum-piece, not placatory. 音乐一定是舒适的,她不会是博物馆的藏品。 来自互联网
- The low ebb hour that Chinese man fails in them, what expect a woman is placatory. 中国男人在他们失败的低潮时刻,则期盼女人的抚慰。 来自互联网
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木
- His fingers were numb with cold.他的手冻得发麻。
- Numb with cold,we urged the weary horses forward.我们冻得发僵,催着疲惫的马继续往前走。
adj.担心的,恐惧的,善于领会的
- She was deeply apprehensive about her future.她对未来感到非常担心。
- He was rather apprehensive of failure.他相当害怕失败。
adj.慰藉的;使人宽心的;镇静的
- Put on some nice soothing music.播放一些柔和舒缓的音乐。
- His casual, relaxed manner was very soothing.他随意而放松的举动让人很快便平静下来。
adv.睡地,懒洋洋地,昏昏欲睡地
- She turned drowsily on her side, a slow creeping blackness enveloping her mind. 她半睡半醒地翻了个身,一片缓缓蠕动的黑暗渐渐将她的心包围起来。 来自飘(部分)
- I felt asleep drowsily before I knew it. 不知过了多久,我曚扙地睡着了。 来自互联网
adj.听觉的,声音的;(乐器)原声的
- The hall has a fine acoustic.这个大厅的传音效果很好。
- Animals use a whole rang of acoustic, visual,and chemical signals in their systems of communication.动物利用各种各样的听觉、视觉和化学信号来进行交流。
adv.含糊地,暖昧地
- He had talked vaguely of going to work abroad.他含糊其词地说了到国外工作的事。
- He looked vaguely before him with unseeing eyes.他迷迷糊糊的望着前面,对一切都视而不见。
n.坚持;强调;坚决主张
- They were united in their insistence that she should go to college.他们一致坚持她应上大学。
- His insistence upon strict obedience is correct.他坚持绝对服从是对的。
adv.狂欢地,欢欣鼓舞地
- They listened exultantly to the sounds from outside. 她们欢欣鼓舞地倾听着外面的声音。 来自辞典例句
- He rose exultantly from their profane surprise. 他得意非凡地站起身来,也不管众人怎样惊奇诅咒。 来自辞典例句
adj.[医]散开的;点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词
- Lectures will be interspersed with practical demonstrations. 讲课中将不时插入实际示范。
- The grass was interspersed with beds of flowers. 草地上点缀着许多花坛。 来自《现代英汉综合大词典》
n.卖主;小贩
- She looked at the vendor who cheated her the other day with distaste.她厌恶地望着那个前几天曾经欺骗过她的小贩。
- He must inform the vendor immediately.他必须立即通知卖方。
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的
- Gathering up his scattered papers,he pushed them into his case.他把散乱的文件收拾起来,塞进文件夹里。
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地
- His doctor is dieting him strictly.他的医生严格规定他的饮食。
- The guests were seated strictly in order of precedence.客人严格按照地位高低就座。
怒视,生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 )
- He scowled his displeasure. 他满脸嗔色。
- The teacher scowled at his noisy class. 老师对他那喧闹的课堂板着脸。
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫
- Whistles began to shrill outside the barn.哨声开始在谷仓外面尖叫。
- The shrill ringing of a bell broke up the card game on the cutter.刺耳的铃声打散了小汽艇的牌局。
a.摆好姿势不动的
- The hawk poised in mid-air ready to swoop. 老鹰在半空中盘旋,准备俯冲。
- Tina was tense, her hand poised over the telephone. 蒂娜心情紧张,手悬在电话机上。
鸟( hover的现在分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫
- The helicopter was hovering about 100 metres above the pad. 直升机在离发射台一百米的上空盘旋。
- I'm hovering between the concert and the play tonight. 我犹豫不决今晚是听音乐会还是看戏。
n.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 )
- The stamp of the horse's hoofs on the wooden floor was loud. 马蹄踏在木头地板上的声音很响。 来自辞典例句
- The noise of hoofs called him back to the other window. 马蹄声把他又唤回那扇窗子口。 来自辞典例句
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士
- I am rather fond of a solitary stroll in the country.我颇喜欢在乡间独自徜徉。
- The castle rises in solitary splendour on the fringe of the desert.这座城堡巍然耸立在沙漠的边际,显得十分壮美。
n.带位员,招待员;vt.引导,护送;vi.做招待,担任引座员
- The usher seated us in the front row.引座员让我们在前排就座。
- They were quickly ushered away.他们被迅速领开。
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器
- Many of the workers play in the factory's brass band.许多工人都在工厂铜管乐队中演奏。
- Brass is formed by the fusion of copper and zinc.黄铜是通过铜和锌的熔合而成的。
adv.简单地,简短地
- I want to touch briefly on another aspect of the problem.我想简单地谈一下这个问题的另一方面。
- He was kidnapped and briefly detained by a terrorist group.他被一个恐怖组织绑架并短暂拘禁。
adv.留心地
- He looked warily around him,pretending to look after Carrie.他小心地看了一下四周,假装是在照顾嘉莉。
- They were heading warily to a point in the enemy line.他们正小心翼翼地向着敌人封锁线的某一处前进。