Chapter 7
THE PRACTICAL UNDERTAKERA face as broad and blandly pink as a gammon rasher looked into Mr Campion’s own from the area’s well. In the arc of the torch beam the man appeared large and solid, with wide shoulders and the breast and belly of an ox. Beneath his hard black hat his hair was white and curling, and his heavy chins rested on a glistening starched collar. The general effect was as imposing as a fine new marble tombstone.
‘Good evening, sir.’ His tone was brisk but subtly deferential and a thought knowing. ‘We did not disturb you, I hope?’
‘Think nothing of it,’ murmured the torchbearer magnanimously. ‘What are you doing? Stocktaking?’
A gleam of friendly white appeared in the pink expanse, a small vertical gleam from two large teeth and a very round mouth.
‘Not exactl
