He was, in short, lost.
As for Mr Armstrong, not seeing his charge at the door, he had started to run in the direction of the hotel, which was the opposite direction to that taken by Tom. Seeing no sign of the prodigal, he too returned to the hall, just after Tom had started a second time on the contrary tack; and so for an hour these two played hide and seek; sometimes almost within reach of one another; at others, with the whole length of the street between them.
At last the crowd on the pavement thinned, and the tutor, sorely chagrined, started off to the hotel, on the chance of the boy having turned up there. No Tom was there. Tom, in fact, was at that moment debating somewhere about a mile and a half away whether he should not try to make his way to the “Oriana” at the Docks, and remain quietly there till claimed. What a joke it would all be when he was found! What an adventure for his first night in London!
It was not very easy even for Tom Oliphant to derive much amusement from these philosophical reflections, and he looked about him rather dismally for some one of whom to inquire his way.
A seedy-looking person was standing under a lamppost hard by, trying to light a cigarette in the wind. Tom decided to tackle him.
“Please can you tell me the way to the Docks where the P and O steamers come in?” said he.
The man let drop his match and stared at the boy.
“Vy,” said he with an odd shrug, “that is some long walks from here. Mais, comment. Vas you not at ze Christy Minstrel to-night viz a nice gentleman?”
“Rather!” said the boy. “Were you there? I say, wasn’t it a clipping turn out? I did like it, especially the break-down. I say, I’m lost. The fellow who was looking after me has lost me.”
“Oh, you ’ave lost ’im. I am ’appy you to find. You sall not valk to ze Dock, no. I sall give you sleeps at ze hotel, and to-morrow you sall find zat dear gentleman. Come wiz me.”