“The supernatural, you mean?”
“That’s why I said I’m not so sure we haven’t a Welshman in our midst. He must be at the bottom of it all. Confound it, somebody must be.”
“Whom do you mean by ‘he’?”
“Parson Lolly,” answered Pendleton, with slightly bated breath, and I remember that I was impressed into silence for a moment.
“Parson Lolly?”
“So he is called.”
“And who may the Parson be?”
“A legend, just a damned legend.”
“And a Welshman too?”
“That’s it!” he exclaimed with an eager gesture. “Don’t you see it must be so, or else there’s hell let loose in this valley? It must be a man, must be, must be! Only—” He checked himself.