The place was pretty filthy, but at each landing there were two doors with well-polished handles and brass plates.

On one I read the name of Andrew Amos.
A man in his shirt-sleeves opened to me, a little man, without a collar, and with an unbuttoned waistcoat.

That was all I saw of him in the dim light, but he held out a paw like a gorilla's and drew me in.
The sitting-room, which looked over many chimneys to a pale yellow sky against which two factory stalks stood out sharply, gave me light enough to observe him fully.

He was about five feet four, broad-shouldered, and with a great towsy head of grizzled hair.

He wore spectacles, and his face was like some old-fashioned Scots minister's, for he had heavy eyebrows and whiskers which joined each other under his jaw, while his chin and enormous upper lip were clean-shaven.