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He smiled once more, that charming, somewhat deprecatory smile of his. “That is not my way of engaging artistes. I must seek them, not they me. I never see those who come to my office, unless I have sent for them. No, my way is to haunt out-of-the-way places. Railroad stations, unknown stock theaters, cheap theatrical hotels, vaudeville houses like this. There, occasionally, I find my flower among the weeds. And when I do, I pluck it to transplant in my own garden. If I discover one a year, I ask no more.”

ssss1 A sob broke in Elizabeth’s throat. “Oh, Mr.Kane—I—I’m so proud—and so—so grateful.”

He took her trembling hand, patted it with his own rather soft, artistic one. “You must prove a good pupil, that is all. Remember—no mention of this when you go to cancel your booking—no mention of my name to any one. For a time we must keep the agreement to ourselves. Until you have my permission, the fact that you have come under my management is to remain absolutely unknown to any but ourselves.”