When he rose or sat down, which was with long labour and peril, something worse was expressed than mere weakness, something indefinably connected with the horror of the whole scene.

It did not express decrepitude merely, but corruption.

Another hateful fancy crossed Syme's quivering mind.

He could not help thinking that whenever the man moved a leg or arm might fall off.
Right at the end sat the man called Saturday, the simplest and the most baffling of all.

He was a short, square man with a dark, square face clean-shaven, a medical practitioner going by the name of Bull.