“Yes, a regular Othello.”

“Othello?  Who speaks of Othello?” interrupted Mr. Bunn.  “I have played him many times!” and he threw back his shoulders, and tried to give himself the airs he was wont to assume in the theater.

Alice told her story, minimizing her fright as much as possible.

“It was romantic,” said Ruth, softly, as her sister concluded.  “Only, dear, you musn’t go off in any more strange dungeons alone.”

“I won’t,” was the promise, given readily enough.

The making of moving pictures was soon over for the day, and the company returned to the hotel.  Some of the members went to their rooms, while the others sat about in the beautiful tropical garden, listening to the mingled music of the band and the fountain.

“Good stunt on for to-morrow,” said Russ, coming up behind Ruth, and taking a chair near her.

“What is it?” asked Paul, who was with Alice.  “Any more fort stuff?”

“No, but it’s out near the fort.  Mr. Pertell is arranging for a motor boat race, with you girls in rival boats.  You know there is a speed course on Mantanzas Bay, and he’s hired two of the fast boats.  It’s going to be a regular race, for the two fellows who run the boats are real water rivals.

“Mr. Pertell has induced them to act the parts for him, and there’ll be some fun.  Part of our company is to be in one boat, and part in the other, and some will be on the fort wall, outside the old moat, watching the boats come up.  It ought to make a dandy picture.”

“I’m sure it will,” declared Ruth, who was always interested in the mechanical end, as well as in the artistic side.  Russ had taught her considerable about the technical part of the business of making moving pictures.

“A motor boat race will be simply fine!” Alice exclaimed.  “I hope the boat I am in wins.”

“There’s no telling,” Russ went on.  “As I said, the men who own the boats are real rivals, so each will do his best to come out ahead.  There’ll be no fake about this—­if you’ll excuse the use of slang,” he added.

That evening, seated in the palm garden, Mr. Pertell explained to his company something of the plans for the next day, telling of the plot of the play in which the motor boat race was to figure.

“That sounds interesting,” commented Mr. DeVere.

“Do those boats go very fast?” inquired Mr. Sneed.

“Rather—­they are two of the fastest boats in the world,” answered the manager.

“Then there’s sure to be an accident,” predicted the grouchy actor.  “I think you may count me out of this play, Mr. Pertell.  I have had enough of water stuff.”

“Well, you’re due to have a bit more,” observed Mr. Pertell, drily.  “For you fall overboard from one of the boats, at the conclusion of the race.”

“I fall overboard!” was the startled exclamation.

“Yes, and Mr. Bunn dives in after you.  You are both good swimmers—­you remember you told me so.”