Just as things were at their very blackest, something had turned up
that promised to relieve all their difficulties. An inventor had offered
to supply them with a patent cast-iron canvasser -- a figure which
(he said) when wound up would walk, talk, collect orders,
and stand any amount of ill-usage and wear and tear. If this could
indeed be done, they were saved. They had made an appointment
with the genius; but he was half-an-hour late, and the partners
were steeped in gloom.

They had begun to despair of his appearing at all, when a cab rattled up
to the door. Sloper and Dodge rushed unanimously to the window.
A young man, very badly dressed, stepped out of the cab,
holding over his shoulder what looked like the upper half of a man's body.
In his disengaged hand he held a pair of human legs
with boots and trousers on. Thus burdened he turned to ask his fare,
but the cabman gave a yell of terror, whipped up his horse,
and disappeared at a hand-gallop; and a woman who happened to be going by,
ran down the street, howling that Jack the Ripper had come to town.
The man bolted in at the door, and toiled up the dark stairs
tramping heavily, the legs and feet, which he dragged after him,
making an unearthly clatter. He came in and put his burden down
on the sofa.

"There you are, gents," he said; "there's your canvasser."

Sloper and Dodge recoiled in horror. The upper part of the man
had a waxy face, dull, fishy eyes, and dark hair; he lounged on the sofa
like a corpse at ease, while his legs and feet stood by, leaning stiffly
against the wall. The partners gazed at him for a while in silence.