“He’s got it,” tallied Tom, keeping track of his movements. “Well,” he inquired a minute later, as Ben reappeared in the tower, “what does it amount to?”
“There has been some pencilled writing on the back of the tag,” explained Ben, “but the water has blurred it out.”
“Whose tag is it?”
“Tom,” said Ben, “what do you think? It’s one of your own cards!”
“Mine?” exclaimed Tom in surprise.
“Yes—look at it.”
Tom took the soaked piece of cardboard. He regarded it in some wonder.
“Why, Ben,” he said finally, “you are quite right. This is one of the cards I printed when I went into the amateur printing line last Summer.”
“I knew I’d seen it or its like before,” observed Ben.
“It’s strange,” ruminated Tom, turning the card over and over in his hand in a puzzled way. “Say, though,” he cried with a quick start, “I gave a lot of those cards to Harry Ashley.”