, 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.

"Fix him together, for God's sake," said Dodge. "He looks awful."

The Genius grinned, and fixed the legs on.

"Now he looks better," said Dodge, poking about the figure--"looks
as much like life as most--ah, would you, you brute!" he exclaimed,
springing back in alarm, for the figure had made a violent La Blanche
swing at him.

"That's all right," said the Inventor. "It's no good having his face
knocked about, you know--lot of trouble to make that face. His head and
body are full of springs, and if anybody hits him in the face, or in the
pit of the stomach--favourite places to hit canvassers, the pit of the
stomach--it sets a strong spring in motion, and he fetches his right
hand round with a swipe that'll knock them into the middle of next week.
It's an awful hit. Griffo couldn't dodge it, and Slavin couldn't stand
up against it. No fear of any man hitting _him_ twice.

"And he's dog-proof, too. His legs are padded with tar and oakum, and
if a dog bites a bit out of him, it will take that dog weeks to pick his
teeth clean. Never bite anybody again, that dog won't. And he'll talk,
talk, talk, like a suffragist gone mad; his phonograph can be charged
for 100,000 words, and all you've got to do is to speak into it what you
want him to say, and he'll say it. He'll go on saying it till he talks
his man silly, or gets an order. He has an order-form in his hand, and
as soon as anyone signs it and gives it back to him, that sets another
spring in motion, and he puts the order in his pocket, turns round, and
walks away. Grand idea, isn't he? Lor' bless you, I fairly love him."

He beamed affectionately on his monster.

"What about stairs?" said Dodge.

"No stairs in the bush," said the Inventor, blowing a speck of dust off
his apparition; "all ground-floor houses. Anyhow, if there were stairs
we could carry him up and let him fall down afterwards, or get flung
down like any other canvasser."

"Ha! Let's see him walk," said Dodge.

The figure walked all right, stiff and erect.

"Now let's hear him yabbe