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They did this, being fortunate enough to secure rooms in a good, though not expensive, hotel near the financial district. One of their windows looked directly out on a busy scene. "That'll be just the place, and the sort of scene Mr. Ringold wants," declared Blake. "Let's set the camera there on the sill and see what it gets. The light is good to-day."
"If it does come you want it filmed!" interrupted Blake, with a laugh. "That's it, exactly!" exclaimed Mr. Ringold. "You'll find plenty down there to take pictures of," said Mr. Hadley. "We want scenes along the Canal. Hire a vessel and take moving pictures as you go along in her. Go through the Gatun locks, of course.
"Oh, so'm I. Keep it up, I says," and Mr. Ringold did, using different cottages in turn to get a diversity of views. Sympathy was expressed for Joe on the failure of his mission to find his father. "But don't you give up!" exclaimed Mr. Hadley. "China is far off, but it isn't out of the world. Don't give up, Joe." "I'll not.
"Somebody calling you by 'phone. They're holding the wire outside. I'll show you the booth." "Oh, will you?" Kirk Anthony's hands suddenly shot out and seized the masquerader by the throat. The man uttered a startled gasp, but simultaneously the iron grip of Marty Ringold fell upon his arms and doubled them behind him, while Kirk gibed: "You'll get me outside and into a telephone booth, eh?
Before you know it your father may arrive in Hong Kong, get your letter, and send back an answer. Then everything will be cleared up. Meanwhile, we've got to get busy; there are a lot of films to make, I understand." "Indeed there are," declared Mr. Ringold. "I have my sea drama all ready for the films now. I don't know what to do about a wreck, though. I'm afraid I can't make it realistic enough.
"Did you want the devourin' element to consume that buildin'?" "I did," replied the theatrical man. "Well I vum!" declared the volunteer chief. "Boys, we made a mistake." "The next time I'll tell the inhabitants here what my plans are," went on Mr. Ringold, grimly. "I told you I wanted it to burn."
"You're not saying it just to help us out; are you, Mr. Ringold?" "No. What makes you think that?" "Because it seems too good to be true. I wouldn't like anything better than to go with your company and make pictures." "The same here," added Blake.
"And all get drowned," murmured C. C., in his gloomiest tone. "I'll wash your face with snow the first time it snows in this summer land if you don't be more cheerful," threatened Miss Shay. "Well, something will happen, I'm sure," declared C. C. "When do we move?" "To-morrow," said Mr. Ringold, while Blake and Joe told Mr. Hadley of their poor success in finding Mr. Duncan.
Ringold, "show the whole process of fishing, from the launching of the boats until they come back filled with the day's catch." This the boys arranged to do, and that noon, when the power boats were launched, they were on hand to make moving pictures.
He noted another brass bed close at hand and reasoned that Ringold or Higgins must have risen early, leaving him to finish his sleep. That was considerate, of course, but Good heavens, it must be late! And he was due to motor to New Haven at noon! He raised himself suddenly, and was half out of bed when he fell back, with a cry, as if an unseen hand had smitten him.
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