‘Buryin’s.’
‘But this is a marriage.’
‘I’m sure I beg your pardon, sir. I thought when I looked at you as you was the party about the child’s funeral.’
‘Good heavens, no.’
‘It was something in your expression, sir, but now that I can see the colour of your clothes, why of course I know better. There’s three marriages—which was it?’
‘Crosse and Selby are the names.’
The verger consulted an old crumpled notebook.
‘Yes, sir, I have it here. Mr. or Miss Crosse to Mr. or Miss Selby. Eleven o’clock, sir, sharp. The vicar’s a terrible punctual man, and I should advise you to take your places.’
‘Any hitch?’ asked Frank nervously, as Hale returned.
‘No, no.’