The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1897-09-20

the place cleaned? You ought to so out
for some fresh air.
81 can't, Bethel: 1 can't Would to
heaven I could"
Nonsense, mani" said in as CHEEKY
a tone as I could assume: come out
with me. You can tell me all about it
then" and 1 made as if for the door.
Don't leave me, Bethall,' he cried,
clutching me by the arm. Don't
leave me, for PHYS sake! I can't so
out. Sit down with me here"
Seeing it was useless to do anything
but humor him, 1 did as he asked me.
He seated himself opposite on the sofa,
and when he spoke he toycd aimlessly
with the rugs and blankets.
Now, West" I said. tell me all
about it. No humbug, you know"
He glanced fearfully around.
do you think we are alone?" he
asked
I'D stake my last dollar on it, re-
piled.
West leaned forward
You're wrong, he whispered,
hoarsely. "KelsalPs here"
l don't know whether it was the
grewsomeness of the thought or the
mans way of saying it that affected
me, but I felt a cold shiver run down
my back.
Nonsense. West" I said after
moments pause; you mustn't get
ideas like that into your head. YoI
ought not to have ke;'t this room on;
you brood too much"
He got up from the sofa and stood
over me with the unea:th'y light i'll his
eyes.
Il tell you, Bethel, Kelsall's here.
Don't contradict me-" he said fiercely.
Then he resumed his seat.
l saw it was no good irritating him,
so went on:
well, I'll take your word for it,
West. But why should you be un-
happy, if it is so? You liked Kelsall
better than any other man"
He sat there, lingering the rugs. His
face twitched spasmodically, and he
stared at the wall behind me. AT last
he spoke:
''Tn tell you, Bethel. 1 think 1
should go mad if l kept it to myself
any longer. You never looked upon me
as al likely believer in ghosts, did
you?"
mo. You always seemed matter of
fact enough"
West laughed harshly-
80 I was, till Kelsall died. Do you
know, man, 1 loved him. 1 would have
died for him when he was living; now
L hate the very thought of him, but
am literally dying for him to-day.
Curse him!"
lie Missed out the last words, and
then sat glowering at the dead fire,
seemingly unconscious of my presence.
Go on, West" l said at length; I'm
waiting"
He locked up dazedly, then passed
his hand over his forehead as if to
gather his thoughts.
You were speaking of Kelsall,"
said.
Yes, yes; / remember. He died in
this room, on this very sofa, and 1 alone
was with him. In his last days when
he knew he was going, we discussed
the future, and 1 begged him to come
back to me from the grave. He prom
ised, ard he made me swear by all
held sacred that when he came 1 would
do his bidding. l swore, and he has
come
Again he glanced furtively round the
room.
You have seen him then, and
spoken to him?" 1 asked.
mo. I have neither seen him nor
spoken to him.
Then how in the name of fortune
do you know he is here?"
West sprang up.
Know he is here, man." pointing to
the litter of copy on the table. Know
l., t.
Do you see that pile of typed stuff?
Every word of it was written to-day
by Kelsal."
He Mas mad-Stark mad; / could not
doubt it. Yet possibly I might do
something to restore his reason.
Tow do you make that out, West?"
I said as calmly as l could, .'if you have
never seen him.
He was now quite composed, and re-
sumed his old seat.
1T was about a month after KEEL
sails DEATH" he went on, that I first
knew It. l was working at the type
writer which he had left to me, max
ing out my first notice of the academy
for The Pioneer Feeling thirsty, I
got up for drink. walked across to
the sideboard there, and while I was
typewriter. I turned around amazed.
and there were the letters dotting down
one after the other, just as though
some one was working it, I tell you I
was scared, and 1 stood there with my
eyes like to burst their sockets. On it
went, line by line. and then suddenly
stopped 1t was some time before [
had courage to go near it, but when |
1,a Il
ten, / was stunned. I just went to the
window and opened it; for following
on my report was the beginning of
tale written by that typewriter, a tale
the like of which no one living could
have written. You know it; it was
The Dead Mans Hand
I knew it well. It was the one that
had started West on his career.
when I had in a measure recovered.
took out the sheet and read it, and
was wondering what on earth, or under
it, it all meant when a few impatient
clicks of the machine made me look
up. l. was instinct. I suppose or was
it some uncomfortable impulse that
made me insert another sheet? I did
so; on went the typewriter, guided by
a master hand, and the next folio of
that tale was typed. BY that time I
had grown used to the situation, and
as fast as the sheets were finished I
inserted others. and within the hour I
held in my hands the manuscript of the
best story that was ever written. When
it was finished the machine refused to
write more; and I spent the remainder
of the evening and all that night in
marvelling over the strange occurrence.