goes to the desert to paint,--at least he said he did."

"Yes, they do mostly. Probably he meant Taos,--whole nest of artists at
Taos."

"Well, but why in thunder then--?"

The clerk smiled skeptically.

"Why, you see, it's something like this. Miss Hastings' bent on being
an illustrator, pays better than teaching, I suppose, or--well, at any
rate, that's what she's aiming for,--and she has an idea that if she can
only get a series of pictures,--several of them on the same subject, you
understand,--accepted by one of those Eastern magazines, she can soon
work in with some big publisher and get an order. She told us all about
it one night last winter when she was over."

"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