Myrtle again--this time quite steadily. She was trembling in every
limb and her cheeks were white with fear.

Slowly--very slowly--the man turned and began to climb the rocks; not
directly upward to where the girls stood, but diagonally, so as to
reach the walk some distance ahead of them. They did not move until he
had gained the path and turned toward the hotel. Then they followed
and kept him in sight until he reached the entrance to the court and
disappeared within.

"I wonder," said Patsy, as they made their way to their rooms,
"whether he really was thinking of plunging into the ocean; or whether
that time at the Grand Canyon he had a notion of jumping into the
chasm."

"If so," added Beth, "Myrtle has saved his life twice. But she can't
be always near to watch the man, and if he has suicidal intentions,
he'll make an end of himself, sooner or later, without a doubt."

"Perhaps," said Myrtle, hesitatingly, "I am quite wrong, and the
strange man had no intention of doing himself an injury. But each time
I obeyed an impulse that compelled me to cry out; and afterward I have
been much ashamed of my forwardness."

They did not see the melancholy man at dinner; but afterward, in the
spacious lobby, they discovered him sitting in a far corner reading a
magazine. He seemed intent on this occupation and paid no attention to
the life around him. The girls called Uncle John's attention to him,
and Mr. Merrick at once recognized him as the same individual they had
met at the Grand Canyon.

"But I am not especially pleased to encounter him again," he said with
a slight frown; "for, if I remember aright, he acted very rudely to
Myrtle and proved unsociable when I made overtures and spoke to him."

"I wonder who he is?" mused Patsy, watching the weary, haggard
features as his eyes slowly followed the lines of his magazine.

"I'll inquire and find out," replied her uncle.

The cherubic landlord was just then pacing up and down the lobby,
pausing here and there to interchange a word with his guests. Uncle
John approached him and said:

"Can you tell me, Mr. Ross, who the gentleman is in the corner?"

The landlord looked around at the corner and smiled.

"That," said he, "is the gentleman we spoke of this afternoon--Mr.
C.B. Jones--the man who usurped the rooms intended for you."

"Rooms?" repeated Uncle John. "Has he a large party, then?"

"He is alone; that is the queer part of it," returned the landlord.
"Nor