e world. Thus do the most cunning overreach themselves, and
with their eyes open to any deceit on the part of others, prove quite
blind when they deceive themselves.

Timothy could not obtain any intelligence from the people of the inn at
the last stage, except that the chariot had proceeded to London. We
arrived late at night, and, much exhausted, I was glad to go to bed.

Chapter XXVI

In following my nose, I narrowly escaped being _nosed_ by a Beak.

And as I lay in my bed, thinking that I was now nearly twenty years old,
and had not yet made any discovery, my heart sank within me. My
monomania returned with redoubled force, and I resolved to renew my
search with vigour. So I told Timothy the next morning, when he came
into my room, but from him I received little consolation; he advised me
to look out for a good match in a rich wife, and leave time to develop
the mystery of my birth; pointing out the little chance I ever had of
success.

Town was not full, the season had hardly commenced, and we had few
invitations or visits to distract my thoughts from their object. My leg
became so painful, that for a week I was on the sofa, Timothy every day
going out to ascertain if he could find the person whom we had seen
resembling me, and every evening returning without success, I became
melancholy and nervous. Carbonnell could not imagine what was the matter
with me. At last I was able to walk, and I sallied forth, perambulating,
or rather running through street after street, looking into every
carriage, so as to occasion surprise to the occupants, who believed me
mad; my dress and person were disordered, for I had become indifferent
to it, and Timothy himself believed that I was going out of my senses.

At last, after we had been in town about five weeks, I saw the very
object of my search, seated in a carriage, of a dark brown colour, arms
painted in shades, so as not to be distinguishable but at a near
approach; his hat was off, and he sat upright and formally. "That is
he!" ejaculated I, and away I ran after the carriage. "It is the nose,"
cried I, as I ran down the street, knocking every one to the right and
left. I lost my hat, but fearful of losing sight of the carriage, I
hastened on, when I heard a cry of "Stop him, stop him!" "Stop him,"
cried I, also, referring to the gentleman in black in the carriage.

"That won't do," cried a man, seizing me by the collar; "I know a trick
worth two of that."