“But in heaven’s name, why Indians?” persisted Blair.

“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.

“Her?  What do you mean?”

Blair made an impatient gesture.

“Why, this Miss — the teacher, you know.  Didn’t you just say you hadn’t any room for her?  Well, I’ve got three, you know.”

“Yes, but that’s altogether a different proposition.  You made your reservation weeks ago.”

“But you could still give her one of them, couldn’t you?”

Clerks in large hotels listen with patience to a vast number of strange proposals, but at this from Blair, the man opposite eyed him in unflattering amazement.

“But you said, when you wired, you wanted the extra room to work in,” he objected, “and you’ll remember, Mr. Blair, that you were pretty emphatic about it, too, at the time.  We went to all kinds of trouble to fix that up for you.”

“I can get along all right without it, though,” coolly observed his changeable guest, “and I’d rather she’d have it.  It’s possible to split suites here, isn’t it?” he persisted.  “They do at most hotels.”

“It’s possible, of course.”  Across the desk the eyes of the two men met squarely.  “That part of it’s easy enough.  But why? and who’s going to pay for it?”

“I’m going to pay for it!  What did you suppose?” exploded Blair.  “It’s worth that and a lot more to me just now to keep her from getting away.  Oh, I’m in earnest all right.  I mean it!  Look here!  Can’t you see how that woman can be a perfect gold mine to me?  You know enough about my work to understand that I’m really out here after Indians myself, and she — well, I’ll wager a cool thousand there isn’t a spot on this whole island that ever dreamed of seeing an Indian that she doesn’t know all about!”