The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1897-09-10
fHB DEAD MANS HAND.

Kelsarl was q brilliant short story
writer and a novelist with a future.
Although he made a good income from
his pen he had some relatives on his
hand; so he kept less than half his
earnings for himself and lived in Sec
ond-rate lodgings. sharing his sitting
room with another ~man-Tolson West.
West was q journalist; a man of
considerable learning and ability; on
artistic matters an authority; but he
was by nature unobstrusive and re-
firing, and to us on The Pioneer,
apart from his excellent work, hex waS
chiefly noteworthy for his ~laDAHsuised
admiration for Kelsall and his tales.
1t was a pleasure to see a man so ap-
preciative AZ another. They lived to-.
Eether some four years, and then KEEL
sail was Apruck dow with fever. He
took a chill when he was recovering,
and died. n there was no one who
knew the man personally or through
his writings but was sorry.
1t was d terrible blow to West. He
had nurse& Kelsall with more than a
woman's care all through his illness.
and he wa4 nearly heartbroken when
he died. SPme Of us tried to cheer
him; but ouA visits were not welcomed,
and never repeated. And so he lived
alone and solitary man, nursing his
Erief-and dr. mixing.
Then a m |st singular thing hap
pened. Wes1k who went in for solid
truth, or wha{ g he took for 1t, and whom
we did not think capable of writing a
line of f1ctior& to save his life, suddenly
came out a STORY writer, and in a very
short time biP fare to equal Kelsall in
reputation. And he didn't seem a bit
proud OF 1t, } but was more annoyed
than anything else when it was re-
ferred to; ais a matter Of fact, he pub
lished his tales under a pseudonyme.
h did not insure secrecy; and a
month after his first story appeared
we of THE Pioneer knew that Caleb
Hardc$stle" and Tolson West were one
and the same man.
Before long West threw up his Jour-
na1fsAic work and confined himself to
his tales.
They were just the antithesis of
KeIsa{ips bright writings; and yet there
were those, who new of the relation
ship OFF the two men, who said they de-
tecte4 Kelsalrs influence in them, and
even his humOr, though most grew
3Omfely metamorphosed. Some indeed
went so a as to say that West was
palrhing off KelsalTs unpublished work
as His own; in no other way could they
account for his outburst as q. writer.
All the while, West, instead of being
elated by his sudden good fortune,
seemed to grow more depressed and
reserved, till at last he became abso-
1utdly misanthropic. He would shut
himself up in his sitting-room for days
ut a time. His meals were left out
side his door; he slept in the room;
nothing was seen Of him, and nothing
heard but the nterminable "click' of
bis typewriter.
But his tales! They fairly carried
&cou away with them. Never since
Swift was there such caustic wit and
1bating satire; never since Poe such
abandonment to h grotesque and the
terrible. His plots were daring to
/temerity, n before long it was rumor
( ed that on this account some Of the
magazines were refusing them.
/ was sitting in my room one night
lei a note was brought to me:
For Gods SAX comet. West"
I was somewhat surprised; as much
TO receive the note itself as at it's emo
tional wording, for I scarcely reckoned
myself among his friends-indeed, I die
not know he had any.
Fearing he had met with an accident,
I put on my hat at once n made
StEdlSHl LUZ Ills IOOIIlS. his ldlOldUy
met me at the door.
II was to take you up directly you
came, sir" she said: and then conf
dentfally, al I'm more than glad
Mr.. West has sent for you. I don't
know whats come over him Of late
us he i'll, them"
mo, sir; leastways not as I knows
of, but I haven't seen him for a week
He hasn't been out Of his room since
last Thursday"
By this time we had reached West
door. Mrs. Harper knocked and called
out:
"Mr. Bethel, SIR"
The door was flung open, and Yves
stood on the threshold. He almost
dragged me in, and then slammed the
doc in his landlady's face. He looked
at me for a moment in a nervous hest
tating way, her sat down, buried hi:
face in his hands n burst into tears
Come, come, man. I said, "wha
the dickens is up? You've got a beast
" fit of the blues, anyway. You've
been overworking yourself"
He made no reply; so to give hin
tim to recover himself I walked
roun the room noting details as
did so. The place was dirty and I'm
tidy to the last degree, and it had evi
IDENTIFY served as a living and sleepin,
AUOAA ooAAAS IAAAAC IA A1C To-
and cups were scattered among book
and papers. empty spirit bottles wer
thrown about on the floor, and a half
filed one stood on the table with
tumb1er beside it. BY it was the type
writer with a blank sheet of paper i
it, and all around were innumerabl
sheets Of typewriter copy. On tn
sofa were pillows, rugs and blankets
and the fireplace was chaotic with Gin
ders.
West had somewhat recovered b
this time and came toward me.
was terribly changed. Never robust a
his best he now looked like a broker
down old man. All life seemed to hav
left his drawn and bloodless face; hi
eyes glittered with an unnatural light
his hair was streaked with gray. Hi
clothes were dirty and d~ishevelled, an
I doubted if he lac washed for a wee]
Bethel" he said, as he came up
me, I'm glad you've come. I don
think l could nave stood it a da