ughts were of
Barney Mulloy. In memory he traveled the round of the Fardale days. The
death of Mulloy in that terrible manner had upset him more than he had
realized. He had not felt it so much during his exciting experiences and
while weighted down with anxiety concerning the fate of the _Merry
Seas_.

"I just can't sleep!" he muttered, seating himself at last by a window
and looking out toward the sea, along a greensward on which the
moonlight fell lovingly. "Poor Barney! Perhaps I ought to have gone on
to Sea Cove and begun my investigations at once. But Inza was so tired.
She has held up bravely, dear girl, through it all, but this evening she
looked ready to drop. I felt that we ought not to go on until she was
rested. She will sleep well now, since she knows that her father is
safe."

Something dark moved among the shadows, and a familiar form approached.
Merriwell started up with a low cry:

"Barney Mulloy!"

He saw the young Irishman as plainly as he had ever seen him. The face,
though, was white and bloodless. The ghostly figure moved with a heavy
step, coming straight up the walk toward the building. Frank sat rooted
to his chair. In the shadow of the piazza the figure seemed to turn, and
was then lost to view. Merriwell threw up the window.

"Barney!" he softly called. "Barney--Barney Mulloy!"

The only answer that came back was a slow and heavy tread, that seemed
to come from a corridor opening out upon the walk along which Barney had
come.

Tramp, tramp, tramp!

The footsteps sounded with great distinctness. Merriwell threw open the
door of his room leading out into this corridor. The light of the lamp
flooded the corridor, and he was able to view it from end to end. He
could have sworn that the footsteps were just beyond his door. But the
corridor was absolutely empty. And the footsteps had ceased.

Frank whistled softly to himself. He was not superstitious, but this was
rather shaking to the nerves. He hurried back to the window and looked
out upon the walk and down the moon-lighted sward. No sound came, save
the dashing of the surf. He leaped through the open window and proceeded
to inspect the grounds in that vicinity. The ghostly form had vanished.

"Hodge!" he called. "Hodge! Come out here."

Hodge, who occupied an adjacent room, and who had been asleep, threw up
a window and looked out.

"Yes," he said. "As soon as I can slip into my clothes. What is it,
Merry?"

"I don't know," Fra