“Oh
my word,” I said, “The poor things.”
“Indeed,”
Oak replied, “So this Greenteeth creature could well be relevant.
Continue.”
Edward
tapped the map again. “Right here there's a stone circle known as
the Devil's Claw.”
A
third spot appeared.
“Why,
I wonder,” Oak pondered, “Does there always have to be something
of the Devil's in every parish?”
“A
Victorian aristocrat wondered the same thing.” Edward was in his
element now, being able to show off his research. “He took offence
at having something so sacrilegious on his land,” Edward continued.
“The stones used to stand around twelve feet tall but now they're
just boulders. He ordered them torn down, but they proved harder to
shift than he reckoned on, drove him doo-lally in the end, died in an
asylum. There's not somebody there now with a sledgehammer is
there?”
“What?
No,” Oak replied, “But there is a chap shouting at the sky about
making a deal.”
