But Frank did not find the time hang heavily upon his hands. He was in England, that was his glad thought. On either side, as the train sped along, was spread out a beautiful English landscape, and his eyes were never tired of watching it.
To Sharpley there was no novelty in the scene. He had enough to think of in his past life—enough to occupy his mind in planning how to carry out his present wicked designs upon the life of the innocent boy at his side.
At last they reached London, and drove in a hansom to a quiet hotel, located in one of the streets leading from the Strand, a business thoroughfare well known to all who have ever visited the great metropolis.
"How long are we going to stay in London, Colonel Sharpley?" asked Frank.
"Two or three days. I can't tell exactly how long."
"That will be rather a short time to see so large a city," returned Frank, considerably disappointed.
"I am in a hurry to go to the continent," was the reply. "We can stop here longer on our return."
With this Frank was forced to be content, though he would have preferred to remain in London long enough now to see the principal objects of interest.
There was, he could not help remarking, a considerable difference in Colonel Sharpley's manner from that which he exhibited when he first called upon his step-father. Then he was very social and agreeable; now he was taciturn, and at times sullen and irritable. Whatever the reason might be, the change was very marked.
"Perhaps he has some business that annoys him," thought Frank, charitably. "I will give him as little trouble as possible. But for his kind offer, I should not have my present chance of seeing foreign countries."