JACK. What was the little idea of making it like yourself?
WALTER. My father’s instructions were to make the man I was creating
a handsome, good-looking fellow, according to the very best available
model. All you’ve got to do is to produce the dead figure and say it’s
me. I’ll go away to Brighton; they can’t in common decency marry before
the funeral.
JACK. Then it seems you made an electric man. _My_ chief doubt is it
won’t be like enough.
WALTER. Come and see!
(_Music. He takes key from pocket, unlocks door of cupboard, and a
man in black frock-coat, with black bowler, is seen seated with back
to audience._)