He had been willing that the doors opening into the corridors should be closed--for only when the corridor was darkened could the ghostly sounds be heard.
As soon as the "footsteps" came again he threw open the door and chucklingly led the way out through a side room into a shedlike structure that came up against the corridor wall.
"There is your ha'nt!" he roared, pointing down into a pen in the shed.
"There is your ha'nt! A gol-derned old sea-turtle! Haw! haw! haw! Ho! ho! ho! He! he! he!" The turtle was a monster in size.
"But--I don't see!" said Merriwell.

"This doesn't explain." The landlord hopped into the pen and flipped the huge turtle over on its back against the wall.

Thereupon it began to kick out with its great flippers, striking them against the corridor wall and making the sounds which had seemed to be footsteps.

Merriwell looked round.
"I see!" he admitted.

"The light from the lighted corridor came through that transom." "Jest so!" said the landlord.