Oliver Crumble wondered why he had been told to wait in the carriage.  Fight conflicting emotions of anxiety and eager anticipation, he idled the time by taking a small 3/8ths-inch spanner from his coat pocket and adjusting one of the small bolts on the wrist of his artificial arm.  His third and fourth fingers were constricting on their own, occasionally spasming randomly, or so it seemed like.  It probably some adjustment in the anterior extensor phalange.  If he concentrated, he could hear the quiet ticking of the gears in his shoulder rotator assembly as they spun incessantly, and every so often the hiss of steam gas escaping from his dorsal pressurized cannister became apparent.  It was a pain in the neck, sometimes, but it served its purpose well enough.<br/><br/>When the large man finally approached and held the door open for him, he tucked the spanner back into the inside of his coat, in its small compartment next to the 1/2 inch, the 1/4 inch, the 5/16ths inch, and the adjustable crescent wrench, and stood up.  He stepped down from the cab, walked around to the luggage compartment, and retrieved his trunk.  It was easy to identify--it was the only one that sounded like it had loose parts rattling around inside, with the occasional click and<em>spoing</em>.<br/><br/>A button on the handle caused parts of the luggage casing to slide apart, and four thin brass rods, each about an inch and a half in diameter, began to protrude.  They extended to their full lengths, about a foot from the trunk itself, and abruptly folded downward, forming what turned out to be four little legs.  Stutteringly, haltingly, the trunk tottered forward, while Oliver himself walked cautiously beside it.<br/><br/>Oliver removed his hat upon entering the house, shyly waiting to be introduced.