The boys and a number of others took up the cry, and in a few minutes fully a score of people were following Frederic Vernon.
Down one street and up another went the crowd, Vernon keeping fully a square ahead of them. Robert was nearest to him, and presently saw the rascal dart into an alleyway. When our hero reached the alleyway Vernon was out of sight.
Robert and the crowd searched the alleyway from end to end, but without success. Vernon had slipped all of his pursuers, and had hired a cab to take him to another part of the city.
The rascal remained in hiding at an obscure boarding house for nearly a week, and then took passage for Boston, satisfied that since Robert had not sailed for Australia, it would be worse than useless for him to appeal again to his aunt.
After the chase was over Robert found himself tired out and as hungry as a bear. Moreover his head, which the ship's doctor had patched up with court-plaster, hurt him not a little.
"Another failure," he muttered disconsolately. "Did ever a fellow have such a run of bad luck before!"
Had Vernon not been a close relative of the lady who employed him, Robert would have put the case in the hands of the Liverpool police, and got them to telegraph to Mrs. Vernon for him for aid. But this he knew would not suit the lady at all.
"I must find some means of getting back to Chishing without the aid of the police," he told himself. "Perhaps I'll run across somebody I know."
He scanned every face he met, but for several hours was unsuccessful. At last he met a farmer he had seen on the River Thames several times. Farmer Goodall had come to Liverpool to see his son off, who was bound for America. Father and son had just separated when our hero ran across the former.
"How do you do, Mr. Goodall," said Robert, extending his hand. "I trust you remember me."