Nero, the hound, raised his nose from between his paws and looked up at the visitor.  Then, as if satisfied, he lowered his head and resumed his nap.

Bradley, as I have said, was angry with himself for walking into such a trap.  It was not fear, but a deep dislike of the man who was the head and front of the trouble at the mills.  He was the spokesman and leader of the strikers, and he was the real cause of the stoppage of the works.  Harvey looked upon him as insolent and brutal, and he was sure that no circumstances could arise that would permit him to do a stroke of work in the Rollo Mills again.

“Good evening,” said Harvey stiffly, “I did not expect to find you here.”

Hansell nodded in reply to the salutation, but Hugh simply motioned with the hand that held the pipe toward a low stool standing near the middle of the apartment.

“Help yourself to a seat, Mr. Bradley; the presence of Tom and myself here is no odder than is your own.”

“I suppose not,” replied Harvey with a half-laugh, as he seated himself; “I started out for a walk to-day and went too far—­that is, so far that I lost my way.  I had about made up my mind that I would have to sleep in the woods, when I caught the light from your window and made for it.”

The glance that passed between Hugh and Tom—­sly as it was—­did not elude the eye of Harvey Bradley.  He saw that his explanation was not believed, but he did not care; there was no love between him and them, and, had it not looked as if he held them in fear, he would have turned and walked away after stepping across the threshold.  As it was, he meant to withdraw as soon as he could do it without seeming to be afraid.

“Is this the first time you have taken a walk up this way?” asked Hugh.

“The fact that I lost my way ought to answer that question; how far is it, please, to Bardstown?”

“An even mile by the path you came.”

“But I didn’t come by any path, except for a short distance in front of this place.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“Is there no way of traveling through the woods except by the road that leads to your door?”

The conversation was between Harvey and Hugh alone.  Tom was abashed in the presence of two such persons, and nothing could have led him to open his mouth unless appealed to by one or the other.  Neither made any allusion to the strike.  After the superintendent’s rebuff, Hugh scorned to do so, while Harvey would have stultified himself had he invited any discussion.  The repugnance between the two men was too strong for them calmly to debate any question.  Besides Hugh and Tom were suspicious; they did not believe that the presence of the superintendent was accidental; there was a sinister meaning in it which boded ill for Hugh and his friends, and the former, therefore, was in a vicious mood.

With the conditions named, a wrangle may be set down as one of the certainties.  But Harvey Bradley had defied the fury of half a hundred men, and he meant to teach this marplot his proper place.  There was a threatening gleam in his eye, but he puffed a few seconds at his pipe, and then, glaring through the rank smoke that curled upward from his face said: