It was not until the next afternoon that, looking over the Shagford _Minute-Hand_ more carefully than he had had time to do in the morning, he saw an account of the accident at the railroad bridge, which accounted for the floating hat. Simeon Piper, then, was in the very town, at the hospital--perhaps at this instant telling some one the tale which had come to his knowledge! Preposterous unkindness of fate, to deal such a blow at this late day! Hounshell only half believed it could be dealt him; yet when he rose from his chair he felt very weak, and the solid walls of the mill as he passed outside seemed decidedly rickety. He very nearly expected them to fall over upon him. As directly as he could he made his way to the hospital, and by the time he reached it was aware that his interest in the stranger might appear somewhat singular. To prevent this he began carelessly, to the attendant: "Queer sort of case, that one you had yesterday from the railroad." "Yes, a very narrow escape." "I read about it in the _Minute-Hand_. How's he getting along?" "Very well indeed. He's left us." "Left a'ready!" Hounshell wondered if his face looked as white as it felt. "There's no chance, then--" "No chance to see him now," said the attendant, far from suspecting the anxiety under that word "chance," as used by Hounshell. "He's lucky to get off so soon," remarked the latter, a cold perspiration on his back. "Gone from town, I s'pose." "I believe so." Hounshell was afraid to ask anything more. He covered his retreat by discussing his ostensible errand, which was to make arrangements for possibly sending to the hospital the invalid wife of one of his men. He had no intention of actually sending her, but he went away leaving an impression of his remarkable kindness. How dear to him was all this false reputation, which cost so little except in secret mental twinges! He doubted whether a respectability honestly worked for would have yielded him nearly so keen an enjoyment; and he was determined to hold on to that which he had gained. Where to look for Piper, and just how to dispose of him, was the problem now before him. But he began to feel easier, and his thoughts returned to the impending labor revolt. It was desirable to see Scofield in private, and with this end in view he drove out to the cottage again at evening. On entering the little sitting-room he was annoyed to find a stranger there comfortably adjusted in a rocking-chair. "I didn't know you had company here," he observed frigidly, eying Scofield. "Oh, that won't interfere!" said Scofield. "It's only Mr. Piper; the man that--" "Piper!" ejaculated Hounshell, in a voice harsh with horror. The stranger looked up at him astonished. "Yes," said the weaver. "Mr. Piper, this is our boss, Mr. Hounshell."