Jack Halloway came into his rooms one day in early September and ran through some mail that lay piled on his table. He was not in a happy humor. The business here had dragged out to the annoying length of six weeks and his mind was busy with anxiety centering on the hills. But as his thoughts ran irritably along, the hand that had lifted an envelope out of the collection became rigid. It was a very plain envelope and quite unaccountably it was postmarked from the station near the mouth of Shoulder-blade creek. Who, down there, could know his New York address? It could not be Brent, for this was not Brent's hand. He ripped the thing open and from the unfolded sheet fell a tiny scrap of some sort. It seemed to be a small strip of soiled cloth and he let it lie on the table while he read the note itself. The first paragraph brought from his lips an exclamation of dismay and alarm--and he paused a moment to collect himself before finishing. "Dear Jack," said the letter. "You will wonder how I knew where to send this letter, but you see I did know. "Jerry and I were married a week ago and all the neighbors came to our infare to wish us well. I saw to it that every man there took off his hat. I am sending you the tag that was on your coat pocket the day I mended it. It wasn't heedful for you to leave it there, and that's how I knew where you were apt to be now--instead of Virginia." The man paused again and his great hand shook with disappointment and chagrin. Finally he turned the sheet and read the conclusion. "Seeing that tag gave me warning just in time the night you bragged that you could make me come into your arms. Next time, Jack, I counsel you to be honest with the girls you make love to. They like it. Come and see us when you get back to the mountains. Alexander McGivins. P.S. I promised my paw to keep my own name when I was wed, and Jerry doesn't mind." The letter escaped from nerveless fingers and floated down to the floor. At last Halloway picked up the small tailor's label and turned it in his fingers absentmindedly, as though he were not yet quite sure what he was doing.