Great was the commotion throughout the house. The square of grass plot which separated the house from the pavement, and the neighbours’ front gardens, and the flights of steps leading to the street, and all the gratings, possible and impossible, were hunted over by the united family, neighbours included. Pavement, road, and cellars were carefully searched by my good-natured cousins, after, of course, every inch of the room itself had been well examined. We felt sure that the sunshine would have enticed it outwards, and we began to think poor little Iguana must have fallen a victim to some dog or cat, when one of the family, who had been out walking, came hurrying home exclaiming: ‘Why, here’s your lizard! I found it on the pavement wa-a-y up the street, with its mouth all bleeding!’
Strange that, in a public thoroughfare, it had escaped at all. Several of its horns were broken, and its mouth was wounded internally, giving evidence of a violent struggle against the wires of the cage. It must have partly pushed its head between them, and found difficulty in extricating itself, going sideways, and then falling from the window on to some iron bars beneath. The jaw and teeth on one side were much injured; for when, after this, I attempted to feed it, it struggled violently and swallowed nothing more.
It never regained sufficient energy to attempt another escape, but always held its head sideways, as if stiff or in pain; and after four or five days, poor little Phrynosoma cornutum died, and was buried.
WHERE THE TRACKS LED TO.
IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAP. III.
I don’t know that I ever thought more closely or continually over any event in my life than I did over this queer meeting with Sam Braceby. There was too much of a coincidence about this matter; and my experience has been that coincidences do not happen unless there is something to bring them about. I could make nothing of it, however, and so set seriously to work in watching Mr Godfrey. But in this affair it seemed as though I was never to keep steadily on in any course, for on the very evening I was to begin my observations, I received a letter from Mr Thurles, asking me to call on him.
I found the merchant as harsh as before, and, in addition, a little inclined to be offensive; at anyrate, his banter on my want of success was particularly annoying to me. He did not seem able to say anything pleasantly, and his speech ended in his throwing down a number of letters and papers, and telling me that the utterer of the forged bills had been discovered; the man himself had escaped by the merest chance; but upon his lodgings being searched, there was found among his papers correspondence which proved that he was a friend of Mr Godfrey, from whom several letters, all on business matters—that is, relating to the borrowing of money—were found.
‘It was not to be expected,’ continued the merchant, ‘that these letters would state in so many words that they meant to forge bills or break into houses; but there is quite enough to show the footing they were on, and to convince us, if any more conviction were needed, that they were both in the forgery.—Look over the papers, and see if you can get a hint from them.’
I saw the name of the man to whom the letters were addressed, and knew it as that of a young fellow who had borne a doubtful reputation, although he had never been in actual ‘trouble.’ He was certainly a dangerous companion for Godfrey Harleston. I took the papers, and left Mr Thurles with the belief that the step-son was in an awkward position. Hitherto, I had by no means been a believer in his guilt; but I was obliged to own that things were now looking much blacker against him. Knowing as much as I did, I determined on a different course of action. I resolved to make some inquiries, and, if necessary, spend some money among the associates of this newly discovered accomplice, some of whom I knew pretty well.
But again I was destined to be balked in my plans—in fact, it was the continual drifting about, which seemed to be our luck just now, which made this undertaking so different from any other on which I had ever been engaged. This time the interruption came from Long-necked Sam, who had never been out of my waking thoughts for any one quarter of an hour since I had seen him in the public-house. I found that Sam was remanded on a serious charge, which, if proved, would probably secure him, in his own phrase, ‘a lifer;’ and he wished to see me at once. It was rather sharp work, as only a few days had elapsed since I saw him, and now he had been apprehended, had his first hearing, and been remanded. But I knew that the police were constantly looking after him, and that he was always doing something which required him to keep out of their way as much as possible.