The next day Sharpley took advantage of Mr. Tarbox's temporary absence from the hotel to hurry Frank off to the London train.

"I hope we have seen the last of that intrusive Yankee," said Sharpley to our hero, when they were fairly installed in the railway carriage.

"I should like to have bidden him good-by," said Frank.

"You can associate with him as much as you like after we have parted company," said Sharpley. "But, for my part, I don't want to see anything of him."

"I wonder what makes him so prejudiced," thought Frank. "It can't be because he is a Yankee, for I am a Yankee, myself, and yet he takes the trouble of looking after me."

Sharpley was not very social. He bought a paper, and spent most of the time in reading.

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."

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.

He decided to leave the stage, and inquire in some shop near by where he was, and then, by examining his map, ascertain the most direct course to his hotel.

As he reached the sidewalk, a little girl of ten years, apparently, with a thin, sad face, fixed her eyes upon him. She said nothing, but there was a mute appeal in her look which Frank, who was by nature compassionate, could not resist.

"What is the matter, little girl?" he asked.

"Mother is sick, and we have nothing to eat," answered the little girl, sorrowfully.

"Have you no father?"

"He has gone away."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Has your mother been sick long?"

"She made herself sick working so hard to buy us bread."

"Then you are not the only child," inquired Frank.

"I have a little sister, four years old."

"How old are you?"

"I am ten."

"What is your name?"

"Alice Craven."

The announcement of her name made Frank start.

"What!" he exclaimed, for, except his step-father, he had never till now met anyone by that name.

"Alice Craven," answered the little girl, supposing he had not understood aright.

"Where does your mother live?" asked Frank.

"In Hurst court."

"Is it far from here?"

"Only about five minutes' walk."

"I will go with you," said Frank, with sudden resolution, "and if I find your mother is as badly off as you say, I will give you something."

"Come, then, sir; I will show you the way."

Frank followed the little girl till he found himself in a miserable court, shut in by wretched tenements. Alice entered one of the dirtiest of these, and Frank followed her up a rickety staircase to the fourth floor. Here, his guide opened a door and led the way into a dark room, almost bare of furniture, where, upon a bed in the corner, lay a wan, attenuated woman. Beside her sat the little girl of four to whom Alice had referred.

"Mother," said Alice, "here is a kind young gentleman, who has come to help us."

"Heaven bless him!" said the woman, feebly. "We are in dire want of help."

"How long have you been sick?" asked Frank, compassionately.

"It is long since I have been well," answered the invalid, "but I have been able to work till two weeks since. For two weeks I have earned nothing, and, but for the neighbors, I and my two poor children would have starved."

"Is your husband dead?"

"I do not know. He left me three years ago, and I have never seen him since."

"Did he desert you?" asked Frank, indignantly. "Did he leave you to shift for yourself?"

"He promised to come back, but he has never come," said the woman, sighing.

"Your little girl tells me your name is Craven."

"Yes, sir. That is my husband's name."

"I know a gentleman by that name."

"Where?" asked the invalid, eagerly.

"In America. But it cannot be your husband," he added, quickly, not caring to excite hope in the poor woman's breast, only to be succeeded by disappointment, "for he has a wife there. I didn't know but it might be your husband's brother."

"My husband had no brother," said the woman, sinking back, her momentary hope extinguished. "Oh, if he only knew how hard it has been for me to struggle for food for these poor children, he would surely come back."

Frank's heart was filled with pity. He drew from his pocket two gold sovereigns, and placed them in the hands of Alice.

"It won't last you long," he said, "but it will give you some relief."

"Bless you, bless you!" said the invalid, gratefully. "It will keep us till I am well again and can work for my children. What is your name, generous, noble boy?"

"Frank Hunter," said our hero, modestly; "but don't think too much of what I have done. I shall fare no worse for parting with this money."

"I will remember you in my prayers," said Mrs. Craven. "So young and so generous!"

"Give me your address, Mrs. Craven, and when I am in London again I will come and see you."

"No. 10 Hurst Court," said the invalid.

"I will put it down."

Frank now left the court, and, as it was late, hailed a cab, and was soon set down in front of his hotel.

"Where have you been so long," asked Sharpley. "It is past three o'clock."

"I went about seeing the sights," said Frank. "I saw the parks, and Buckingham Palace, and Regent Street; but I have just left a poor woman who was very destitute, whom I visited in her miserable room. Oddly enough, her name was Craven."

"Craven," repeated Sharpley, his attention at once roused.

"Yes; she had two children, the oldest, Alice, a girl of ten."

"Great Heaven!" ejaculated Sharpley.

Frank looked at him in surprise.

"I daresay they were humbugs," said Sharpley. "Did you give them any money?"

"Two sovereigns; but I am sure they were not humbugs."

"'A fool and his money are soon parted,'" sneered Sharpley. "Where did you find them?"

"No. 10 Hurst Court."

"I advise you not to be so ready to part with your money the next time. I'll wager they are imposters."

"What cursed chance brought him in contact with these people?" said Sharpley to himself after Frank had left him to arrange his toilet. "He little dreams that the woman he has relieved is the true wife of the man who has married his mother."