In vain did he ask Chris where he was going, and what he meant to do—not a word could he extract. The other lad stalked on, looking every now and then at the printed directions on the walls, telling whither each turning led.
He reached a sort of entrance-place at last, where there were the same kind of turnstiles as those through which Mr. Richardson had brought his party in the morning.
"Way out" was written above one. Without a word to his companion, Chris went through it.
"But, Chris, that takes us outside. What are you doing?" cried Walter.
"I know what I'm about," answered the other. "Are you coming or not I? I can't wait all day. You'll never find your way back to the others alone. You'd a deal better stick to me that knows the way."
Walter looked round despairingly.
"What shall I do?" he said to himself. "I wish I hadn't come with Chris. He's so cross and disagreeable, it's no fun to be with him; but I could no more find my way back through all those twists and turns than fly. I suppose I must keep with him now," and he went through the turnstile and caught up his friend, who had grown tired of waiting and had gone on some way.
"Oh, you've come, have you?" said he, as Walter came running up. "I thought you liked best wandering about all proper and lonely inside that fine place you seem so fond of."
Walter made no reply, but walked by the side of his companion, who marched along as if he knew very well what he wanted, and meant to have it.
At length they came to a street corner, where they saw written up, "Crystal Palace Arms."