“And don’t you think these are serious testimony?”
“To what? to what?” Pendleton inquired. “What can we make of Parson—”
“You have swallowed this Parson Lolly, hook, line, and sinker. Now I—”
“You and Oxford weren’t so chirpy last evening,” observed our host.
I was indignant. “Well! Did I seem to be in the same condition of nerves—”
“You saw the same thing.”
“But, Crofts, man, it surely can be explained somehow without—”
He was impatient. “Yes, of course, everything can be explained. Things have been happening, oh, quite explainable things, all of them—only not one of them has been explained. But what I object to is giving them an explanation that’s pure conjecture. You evidently think there’s been murder here. You seem to believe that’s human blood. How do you know it isn’t pig’s blood?”
“Why not try to get someone here who can tell?”
“Someone is coming,” snapped Pendleton.