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E - Abitur - Übung Nr. 2

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1. The verb and its forms. Find the best solution to complete the given phrases.

1.1. By the end of our journey we (travel) 2000 miles.

will have travelled
would travel
will travel

1.2. Barry asked where I (live).

will live
lived
will have lived

 

1.3. Eddie did not know what he (do)

will have been doing
will do
should do

 

1.4. The girl was extremely proud (win) the prize.

of having won
to winning
of winning

 

1.5. The star had no pen (write). 

for to write
  to write with
for to write with

 

1.6. The caretaker made the headmaster (come) down.

come
coming
to come

 

1.7. The boys could not help (laugh).

laughing
to laugh
laugh

 

1.8. I (see) that woman before.

will see
have seen
will have seen

 

1.9. At the moment my mother (look) at a garden magazine. 

has been looking
was looking
is looking

 

1.10. Last week there (be) a terrible storm in Wales.

has been
had been
was
 

2. Adjectives and adverbs. Supply either the adjective or adverb of the words in brackets.
The following text is from Agatha Christie's novel "The Mysterious Affair at Styles".

He had a candle in his hand, and the agitation of his face told me at once that something was

 

  (serious / wrong).

 

"What's the matter?" I asked, sitting up in bed, and trying to collect my

 

thoughts (scattered).

 

"We are (afraid) my mother is (very ill).

 

She seems to be having some kind of fit.

 

(unfortunately) she has locked herself in."

 

"I'll come at once."

 

  I sprang out of bed; and, pulling on a dressing-gown, followed Lawrence along


the passage and the gallery to the wing (right) of the house.

 

 John Cavendish joined us, and one or two of the servants were standing round in a state of


excitement (awe-stricken). Lawrence turned to his brother.

 

"What do you think we had better do?"

 

   Never, I thought, had his indecision of character been more

(apparent).

 

   John rattled the handle of Mrs. Inglethorp's door

(violent), but with no effect. It was (obvious) locked or bolted

 

on the inside. The household (whole) was aroused by now. The most

 

(alarming) sounds were (audible) from the interior

 

of the room. (clear) something must be done.

 

"Try going through Mr. Inglethorp's room, sir," cried Dorcas. "Oh, the

 

mistress (poor)!"

 

(sudden) I realized that Alfred Inglethorp was not with us—that he

 

(alone) had given no sign of his presence. John opened the door of

 

his room. It was (pitch dark), but Lawrence was following with

 

the candle, and by its (feeble) light we saw that the bed had not

 

been slept in, and that there was no sign of the room having been occupied.

 

   We went (straight) to the

(connecting) door.


That, too, was locked or bolted on the inside. What was to be done?

 

"Oh, dear, sir," cried Dorcas, wringing her hands, "what ever shall we do?"

 

"We must try and break the door in, I suppose. It'll be a (tough)

 

job, though. Here, let one of the maids go down and wake Baily and tell him to go for

 

Dr. Wilkins at once. Now then, we'll have a try at the door.

 

Half a moment, though, isn't there a door into Miss Cynthia's rooms?"

 

"Yes, sir, but that's always bolted. It's never been undone."

 

"Well, we might just see."

 

  He ran (rapid) down the corridor

 

to Cynthia's room. Mary Cavendish was there, shaking the girl—who must have been

 

an (unusual /  sound) sleeper—and trying to wake her.

 

In a moment or two he was back.

 

  "No (good).

 

That's bolted too. We must break in the door. I think this one is a shade less

 

(solid) than the one in the passage."

 

We strained and heaved together. The framework of the door was

 

(solid), and for a (long) time it resisted our

 

efforts, but at last we felt it give beneath our weight, and

 

(final), with a (resounding)

 

crash, it was burst (open).

 

We stumbled in together, Lawrence still holding his candle. Mrs. Inglethorp was lying

 

on the bed, her (whole) form agitated by

 

(violent) convulsions, in one of which she must have overturned the

 

table beside her. As we entered, however, her limbs relaxed, and she fell back

 

upon the pillows.

 

John strode across the room, and lit the gas. Turning to Annie, one of the

 

housemaids, he sent her downstairs to the dining-room for brandy. Then

 

he went across to his mother whilst I unbolted the door that gave on the corridor.

 

I turned to Lawrence, to suggest that I had better leave them now that there was

 

no further need of my services, but the words were frozen on my lips. Never have

 

I seen such a ghastly look on any man's face. He was

 

(white) as chalk, the candle he held in his shaking hand was sputtering onto the

 

carpet, and his eyes, petrified with terror, or some such kindred emotion, stared

 

(fixed) over my head at a point on the  

 

(further) wall. It was as though he had seen something that turned

 

him to stone. I (instinctive) followed the direction of his eyes,

 

but I could see nothing (unusual). The

 

(still / feeble / flickering) ashes in the grate, and the row of (prim)

 

ornaments on the mantelpiece, were (sure / harmless / enough).

 

The violence of Mrs. Inglethorp's attack seemed to be passing. She was able to speak in

 

(short) gasps.

 

  "Better now-very (sudden) -

 

(stupid) of me-to lock myself in."

 

A shadow fell on the bed and, looking up, I saw Mary Cavendish standing near the door with her arm

 

around Cynthia. She seemed to be supporting the girl, who looked (utter /

 

dazed) and (unlike) herself. Her face was

 

(heavy / flushed), and she yawned (repeated).

 

"  (poor) Cynthia is (quite / frightened)," said

 

Mrs. Cavendish in a (low / clear)  voice. She herself, I noticed, was dressed

 

in her (white) land smock. Then it must be (late)

 

than I thought. I saw that a (faint) streak of daylight was showing through

 

the curtains of the windows, and that the clock on the mantelpiece pointed to close upon five o'clock.

 

  A (strangled) cry from the bed startled me. A

 

(fresh) access of pain seized the (unfortunate / old)

 

lady. The convulsions were of a violence (terrible) to behold. Everything

 

was confusion. We thronged round her, (powerless) to help or

 

alleviate. A (final) convulsion lifted her from the bed, until she appeared

 

to rest upon her head and her heels, with her body arched in an

 

(extraordinary) manner. In (vain) Mary and John tried to administer

 

more brandy. The moments flew. Again the body arched itself in that

 

(peculiar) fashion.

 

   At that moment, Dr. Bauerstein pushed his way


(authoritative) into the room. For one instant he stopped (dead), staring

 

at the figure on the bed, and, at the (same) instant, Mrs. Inglethorp cried

 

out in a strangled voice, her eyes fixed on the doctor:

 

   "Alfred—Alfred——" Then she fell back (motionless) on the pillows.

With a stride, the doctor reached the bed, and seizing her arms worked them

 

(energetic), applying what I knew to be (artificial)

 

respiration. He issued a (few / short / sharp) orders to the servants. An

 

(imperious) wave of his hand drove us all to the door. We watched

 

him, (fascinated), though I think we all knew in our hearts that it

 

was (late), and that nothing could be done now. I could see by

 

the expression on his face that he himself had (little) hope.

 

  (finally) he abandoned his task, shaking his head

 

(grave). At that moment, we heard footsteps outside, and Dr. Wilkins, Mrs. Inglethorp's

own doctor, a (portly / fussy / little) man, came bustling in.

 

In a (few) words Dr. Bauerstein explained how he had happened to

 

be passing the lodge gates as the car came out, and had run up to the house as  

 

(fast) as he could, whilst the car went on to fetch Dr. Wilkins. With a

 

(faint) gesture of the hand, he indicated the figure on the bed.

 

"Ve—ry  (sad). Ve—ry  (sad)," murmured

 

Dr. Wilkins. " (poor / dear) lady. Always did

 

(far / too /much ) — (far / too / much) — against my advice. I warned

 

her. Her heart was (far) from (strong).

 

'Take it (easy),' I said to her, 'Take—it—

 

(easy)'.

 

But no—her zeal for (good) works was

 

(too / great). Nature rebelled.

 

Na—ture—re—belled."

 

  Dr. Bauerstein, I noticed, was watching the

 

(local) doctor (narrow). He (still) kept his

 

eyes fixed on him as he spoke.

 

"The convulsions were of a (peculiar) violence, Dr. Wilkins. I am

 

(sorry) you were not here in time to witness them. They were

 

(quite) — (tetanic) in character."

 

"Ah!" said Dr. Wilkins (wise).

 

"I should like to speak to you in (private)," said Dr. Bauerstein.

 

He turned to John.

 

"You do not object?"

 

" (certain) not."

 

We all trooped out into the corridor, leaving the two doctors

 

(alone), and I heard the key turned in the lock behind us.

 

   We went (slow) down the stairs. I was


(violent / excited).

I have a (certain) talent for deduction, and Dr. Bauerstein's

 

manner had started a flock of (wild) surmises in my mind.

 

 Mary Cavendish laid her hand upon my arm.

 

"What is it? Why did Dr. Bauerstein seem so— (peculiar)?"

 

I looked at her.

 

  "Do you know what I think?"

 

"What?"

 

"Listen!" I looked round, the others were out of earshot. I lowered my voice to a whisper.

 

 "I believe she has been poisoned! I'm (certain) Dr. Bauerstein suspects it."

"What?" She shrank against the wall, the pupils of her eyes dilating

 

(wild). Then, with a (sudden) cry that startled me, she cried out:

 

"No, no—not that—not that!" And breaking from me, fled up the stairs.

 

I followed her, afraid that she was going to faint. I found her leaning against the banisters,

 

(dead / pale).

 

She waved me away (impatient).

 

"No, no—leave me. I'd rather be (alone). Let me

 

(just) be (quiet) for a minute or two. Go down to the others."

 

I obeyed her (reluctant). John and Lawrence were in the dining-room. I joined them.

 

We were all (silent), but I suppose I voiced the thoughts of us all when I at last broke it by saying:

 

  "Where is Mr. Inglethorp?"

 

John shook his head.

 

 "He's not in the house."

 

Our eyes met. Where was Alfred Inglethorp? His absence was (strange)

 

and (inexplicable). I remembered Mrs. Inglethorp's dying words.

 

What lay beneath them? What more could she have told us, if she had had time?

 

At last we heard the doctors descending the stairs. Dr. Wilkins was looking

 

(important) and (excited), and trying to conceal an (inward) exultation

 

under a manner of (decorous) calm. Dr. Bauerstein remained in the background, his

 

(grave /  bearded) face (unchanged).

 

Dr. Wilkins was the spokesman for the two. He addressed himself to John:

 

"Mr. Cavendish, I should like your consent to a post-mortem."

 

"Is that (necessary)?" asked John (grave). A spasm of pain crossed his face.

 

" (absolute)," said Dr. Bauerstein.

 

"You mean by that——?"

 

   "That neither Dr. Wilkins nor myself could give a death certificate under the circumstances."

John bent his head.

 

  "In that case, I have no alternative but to agree."

 

"Thank you," said Dr. Wilkins (brisk). "We propose that it

 

should take place to-morrow night—or rather to-night." And he glanced at the

 

daylight. "Under the circumstances, I am afraid an inquest can  

 

(hard) be avoided—these formalities are (necessary), but

 

I beg that you won't distress yourselves."

 

There was a pause, and then Dr. Bauerstein drew two keys from his pocket, and

 

handed them to John.

 

"These are the keys of the two rooms. I have locked them and, in my opinion,

 

they would be better kept (locked) for the present."

 

The doctors then departed.

 

   I had been turning over an idea in my head, and I

felt that the moment had now come to broach it. Yet I was a

 

(little / chary) of doing so. John, I knew, had a horror of any kind of publicity,

 

and was an (easy going) optimist, who preferred

 

never to meet trouble half-way. It might be (difficult) to

 

convince him of the soundness of my plan. Lawrence, on the other hand, being

 

(less / conventional), and having more

 

imagination, I felt I might count upon as an ally. There was no doubt that

 

the moment had come for me to take the lead.

 

"John," I said, "I am going to ask you something."

 

" (good)?"

 

"You remember my speaking of my friend Poirot? The Belgian who is

 

here? He has been a (most / famous) detective."

 

"Yes."

 

"I want you to let me call him in—to investigate this matter."

 

"What—now? Before the post-mortem?"

 

"Yes, time is an advantage if—if—there has been

 

(foul) play."

 

"Rubbish!" cried Lawrence (angry). "In my opinion

 

the (whole) thing is a mare's nest of Bauerstein's!

 

Wilkins hadn't an idea of such a thing, until Bauerstein put it into his head.

 

But, like all specialists, Bauerstein's got a bee in his bonnet. Poisons are his

 

hobby, so of course he sees them everywhere."

 

I confess that I was (surprised) by Lawrence's

 

attitude. He was (so / seldom / vehement)

 

about anything.

 

John hesitated.

 

"I can't feel as you do, Lawrence," he said at last, "I'm inclined to give Hastings

 

a (free) hand, though I should prefer to wait a bit.

 

We don't want any (unnecessary) scandal."

 

"No, no," I cried (eager), "you need have no fear

 

of that. Poirot is discretion itself."

 

" (very / good), then, have it your own way. I leave

 

it in your hands. Though, if it is as we suspect, it seems a

 

(clear / enough) case. God forgive me if I am wronging him!"

 

I looked at my watch. It was six o'clock. I determined to lose no time.

 

Five minutes' delay, however, I allowed myself. I spent it in ransacking the

 

library until I discovered a (medical) book which

 

gave a description of strychnine poisoning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
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