"I came about that Hammil accident case," said the young man. "Hammil was hurt yesterday, pretty badly, and the report makes it look as if we'd be stuck if the thing goes to a jury."

"I know nothing about it," said Bonbright, with a little shock. It was possible, then, for a man to be maimed or killed in his own plant and news of it to reach him after days or perhaps never. He made a note to rectify THAT state of affairs. "You mean that this man Hammil was hurt through our fault?"

"I'm afraid a jury would say so." The young man explained the accident in detail. "He complained about the condition of his machine, and his foreman told him he could stick to his job there or quit."

"Forced him to work on an unsafe machine or quit?"

"Yes."

Bonbright stared at his blotter a moment. "What did you want to see me about?"

"We'd better settle. Right now I can probably run up and put a wad of bills under Hammil's nose and his wife's, and it'll look pretty big.

Before some ambulance-chaser gets hold of him. He hasn't been able to talk until awhile ago, so n.o.body's seen him."

"Your idea is that we could settle for less than a jury would give him?"

The young man laughed. "A jury'd give him four or five thousand, maybe more. Doctor says the injury is permanent. I've settled more than one like it for three or four hundred."

"The man won't be able to work again?"

"Won't be good for much."

"And we're responsible!" Bonbright said it to himself, not to the young man. "Is this thing done often--settling these things for--what we can squeeze them down to?"

"Of course." The young man was calloused. His job was to settle claims and save money. His value increased as his settlements were small.

"Where's Hammil?"

"At the General Hospital."

Bonbright got up and went to the closet for his hat. "Come on," he said.

"You're not going up there, are you?"

"Yes."

"But--but I can handle it all right, Mr. Foote. There's no need to bother you."

"I've no doubt you can handle it--maybe too well," said Bonbright.

They were driven to the hospital and shown up to Jim Hammil's room. His wife was there, pale, tearless, by his bedside. Jim was bandaged, groaning, in agony. Bonbright's lips lost their color. He felt guilty.

It was HE who had put this man where he was, had smashed him. It was HIS fault.

He walked to the bedside. "Jim," he said, "I am Mr. Foote."

"I--know--you," said the man between teeth set to hold back his groans.

"And I know you," said his wife. "I know you.... What do you want here?"

"I came to see Jim," said Bonbright. "I didn't know he was hurt until a few minutes ago.... It's useless to say I'm sorry."

"They made him work on that machine. He knowed it wasn't safe.... He had to work on it or lose his job...."

"I know that NOW, Mrs. Hammil.... What was he earning?"

"Two-seventy-five a day.... And now.... How'll we live, with him in the hospital and maybe never able to work again?"

"Here..." protested Hammil, weakly, glaring at Bonbright. "We'll come out all right. He'll pay.... You'll pay, that's what you will. A jury'll make you pay. Wait till I kin see my lawyer...."

"You won't need any lawyer, Jim," said Bonbright. It was hard for him to talk. He could not speak to these people as he wanted to, nor say the words that would make their way through their despair and rage to their hearts. "You won't need any lawyer," he repeated.

"If you think I'm--goin'--to sign--one of them--releases--you're d.a.m.n--mistaken," moaned the man.

"Jim," said Bonbright, "you needn't sign anything.... What's done can't be mended.... It was bad. It was criminal..."

"Mr. Foote," protested the young lawyer.

"I'll attend to this," said Bonbright, shortly. "It's between Jim and me.... I'll make it as nearly right as it can be made.... First we'll have you out of this ward into a room.... As long as you are laid up your wife shall have your full pay every week, and then you and I will have a talk to see what can be done. Only don't worry.... Don't worry, Mrs. Hammil...."

Hammil uttered a sound that was intended for a laugh. "You can't catch me," he said, in a dreadful voice. "I'm--up to--them sharp tricks....

You're lyin'.... Git out of here, both of you.... You're--jest here--to cheat me."

"You're wrong, Jim."

"I know--you and--your kind," Jim said, trying to lift himself on his elbow. "I know--what you--done durin'--the strike.... I had a baby--and she--DIED.... You killed her!" His voice rose almost to a scream.

"Better go, sir," said a nurse. "He's hurting himself."

Bonbright gazed at her blankly. "How can I go?" he asked. "He won't believe me. He's got to believe me...."

"You lie!... you lie!..." Hammil cried. "I won't talk to you.... My lawyer'll--do my talkin'."

Bonbright paused a moment. Then he saw it would do no good to remain.

The man's mind was poisoned against him; was unable to conceive of a man in Bonbright's place meaning him otherwise than treachery.... It went deeper than suspicion of an individual; it was suspicion of a cla.s.s.

"I'll do what I promised, Jim.... That'll prove it to you."

"You--lie.... You lie..." the man called after him, and Bonbright heard the words repeated again and again as he walked down the long corridor.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

Bonbright worked feverishly. These were the best days he had known since he left college, but they were not happy days. He could not forget Ruth--the best he could do was to prevent himself from remembering too much, and so he worked. He demanded of himself more than it is in a single man to give, but he accomplished an astonishingly large part of it. Day and night he drove himself without relaxation and without pause. If he stopped, the old feeling of emptiness, of the futility of his existence, and the bitterness of his fortune returned. His nature might have become warped, but for the labor.

The building of the new shops he left to Mershon, knowing himself incompetent. He knew what sort of shops he wanted; Mershon knew how to produce them, and Mershon was dependable. Bonbright had implicit confidence in the engineer's ability and integrity, and it was justified. The new mills were rising....