"Because she thinks she's found some good material here. She told me
about that, too. Seems there's an old legend connected with Catalina,
about an Indian princess and a cavern. The princess died of a broken
heart or something of the sort, I believe she said. I never heard the
particulars myself. Nobody else, either, seems to know anything about
it. But Miss Hastings says there's quite a story, and she's got it all
down pat from A to Z. She's using it for her series."
A porter brought up some newcomers and Blair stepped aside. But the
moment his man was at leisure again he cornered him at once. An idea had
come to him, an idea almost dazzling in its possibilities.
"You say she hasn't finished her series yet?"
"Beg pardon? Oh, the teacher?" The man shook his head. "Evidently not
from what she said just now. She never stays long enough really to put
it over. Every few months she bobs up over a week-end, but that doesn't
give her time even to visit some of the places she's after. She never
seems to get much more than started before she has to go home again."
For a moment Blair smoked in silence. Then:
"Look here," he cut in abruptly, "You split my suite and give her one of
my rooms."
The man's eyebrows rose in surprise.
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