The dog disappeared. Then a dim light showed far out at sea and there sounded out the distant echo of the foghorn of a steamer. It was so familiar to the audience, so natural, that more than one among them probably lost himself and almost fancied he was standing on that lonely storm-lashed beach with the wrecker. The film ran its course--the rope was carried by the faithful dog to the imperilled ship. A safety line was sent ashore. Passengers and crew were all saved and among them a beautiful young girl. The last picture showed a lovely garden--the grounds of the home of the father of the rescued girl. She was reading a book in a vernal bower. The wrecker, her lover, appeared. Birds swayed among the blossoming branches of the trees. He spoke--she listened. Then, arm in arm, they walked slowly from the garden to the accompaniment of soft bird notes that filled the whole house with the most ravishing melody. The lights came on amid furious and genuine applause. A delighted and excited old man jumped up on his chair and waved his hat, shouting: “Three cheers for the best show on earth!” “That was just famous.” “Must be one of those new speaking pictures.” “Oh, we must get all the folks to come to this delightful show!” Pep’s heart beat proudly as the audience filed out and he overheard this encouraging praise. He could hardly contain himself. Then he noticed Ben Jolly beckoning to him and he glided over to the piano. Jolly’s face was one broad, delighted smile. “How was it, Pep?” he inquired. “No, _what_ was it!” corrected Pep in a fluster, and then he noticed that the cornetist had remained seated--and he guessed something. “Him?” he questioned. “Correct!” replied Jolly. “Give Durham the tip. It’s Hal Vincent. Durham must have noticed the brilliant accompaniment to the films and I don’t want to get him rattled wondering what’s up.” Pep had some difficulty in getting to the operator’s booth. A long line of people were in place at the doors and they came in with a rush as the room was emptied. Pep tapped and Frank told him to come in. “Did you hear--did you notice it?” spoke Pep, excitedly. “Why, of course,” replied Frank. “I couldn’t understand it at first, but I know it must be some professional imitator.” “It was Mr. Vincent. He wore a false beard.” “You don’t say so!” cried Frank. “Yes, and he was the cornetist outside, too,” Pep went on. “All a piece of Mr. Jolly’s work, I suppose?” “Of course,” replied Pep. “When he got that message this afternoon Mr. Vincent was probably at the hotel. Then he arranged to surprise us.” “It’s more than a surprise--it’s given tone and novelty to the whole entertainment.”