!<br > The Grand Canyon in late March was a bleak place. Even<br > the rustic lobby of the Big Lodge， on the edge of the south-<br > ern rim， usually bustling with hordes of tourists and their<br >subhordes of screaming brats， was totally deserted. For it<br >was not only March; it was also a Sunday morning， a time<br >when the God-fearing people of Arizona were either in<br >church or still in bed with a bad conscience.<br > The total peace was broken around 10:45 when a black<br >Cadillac pulled up. The grey-haired man who emerged was<br >also in black. He pushed through the revolving doors， a<br >strangely incongruous mechanism in this Wild West setting，<br >and approached the reception desk. There was not a soul in<br >sight. But there was a bell. So the man in black banged on it，<br >three times， hard. It was a rather small bell， but it produced<br >one hell of a loud noise， or at least it seemed that way in con-<br >trast to the silence which had prevailed prior to the entrance<br >of this intruder. The audible result of the bell-banging was<br >soon replaced by a visible one， in the form of a clerk clad in<br >levis and plaid shirt. After a few words had been exchanged，<br >tile clerk handed over a key， in fact， two keys. One of them<br >was for the hotel lounge， just in back of the lobby. It was<br >closed to the general public at this time of year， since there<br >was very little general public requiring its use. The man in<br >black， followed rather meekly by the clerk， unlocked the<br >