The next morning Sharpley said:
"Frank, you must wander around by yourself, as I have business to attend to."
"All right, sir," said Frank.
In fact, he was rather pleased with the idea of finding his own way in the great city of which he had heard so much, and which he had just entered as a stranger. He felt a little like the celebrated explorer, Dr. Livingstone, as he set out to explore a region as new and blind to him as the mysterious tracts of Central Africa to the older traveler. But he had this advantage over the eminent doctor, that, whereas the latter had no maps or charts to guide him, he was able for the small sum of an English shilling, or about twenty-five cents, to obtain a map of London.
When his eye glanced for the first time over the labyrinth, he felt bewildered and lost, but after a short time he made up his mind what course to take, and found his way to Charing Cross, and from thence to Piccadilly, Rupert Street, and the parks.
Time flew by, and in the delight of the ever-recurring novelty, he found that it was two o'clock.
He stepped into a pastry-cook's to get some lunch.
Then he hailed a passing stage, and rode a long distance, but whether he was near or far from his hotel he could not tell.