WORDS FROM THE DEAD

Dominion, Volume 23, Issue 80, 28 December 1929, Page 27

WORDS FROM THE DEAD

MOST AMAZING EXPERIENCE

What he describes as “the most amazing experience” of his life is related by Mr. Geoffrey Gilbey in the “Daily Express.” His story is as follows:— “Muph against my will, I went to a friend’s house in the evening to meet a woman who was supposed to have wonderful gifts. She had told various people things which had come true. However, I have always scoffed at anything in the nature of fortune-telling, as I have never heard of a fortuneteller giving a winner or anything at all useful. “The woman lives many miles away in the country, but she was up in London for a few days. I was taken into the room where she was sitting, and left alone with her. She 'did not know my name, and, if she had, it would not have conveyed anything to her. I expected to be told the usual nonsense about crossing the water, and to be warned against a bold, bad woman. I was, therefore, agreeably surprised when she proceeded to tell me one home truth after another about myself. She was no flatterer, and she told me things which made me gasp. She told me that I was always before the public, and that all success which had and would come to me was through the public. She gave minute details about my life, my character, and my health. “I have, all my life, been intensely interested in character reading, and I have always maintained that I can tell anybody’s character after I have been talking to him or her for a few minutes. I decided that this woman had wonderful intuition, and that, in addition, she must be a remarkably good guesser. “The woman next produced a crystal about the size of a cricket ball, which she made me hold in my hands. She was silent for half a minute, and then began to talk in a most strange manner. She said: “You have lost - a friend .called ‘Jack.’ ” x • “I thought of all the friends I have known as Jack, and I told her she was mistaken. She was most insistent, and ■ said she could see lots of books, and that they were connected with my friend Jack. She rambled oh about Jack and the piles of books, and. said she could see the letters K and H. I felt sorry for the woman, but I had to tel! her that I had inherited a large number of books from my father on his death, but that his name was not Jack and that his initials were neither K nor H.

She said the K was faint, and might be It. This. did not help. “Then suddenly I remembered that I had lost a very great friend called Jack. I had never called him Jack, or thought of him as Jack; but when I say that his photograph is always ou the right-blind side of my desk as I write, it can be realised that he was a very close friend. This friend was Jack Kebble Howard, the novelist and playwright. She then became even more strange, and began to talk as though in a trance. “I have a message from him for you,” she said. ‘‘He says, Thanks old man, for looking after Baby.”’ She continued : ‘But Baby’s not a child.’ She then gave a very accurate description of Mr. Keble Howard. “The woman next went on to describe in detail the staircrase leading up to the ‘Daily Express’ office. She could see me going up the steps with sheets of paper in my hand. She could see me going round corners and leaving the papers on the table. She said: ‘I can hear machinery going on and on.’ < “I was then told by the woman of certain things which I am writing, and which nobody knows lam writing. She seemed to come out of a trance suddenly. and asked me if there was any question T should like to ask. I said that I should be interested if she could tell me anything about my two daughters. She straightway described their different characteristics, as. though she had been their nurse.

“The first thing I did next morning was to ring up Mrs. Keble Howard to ask if her husband had ever called her Baby. She told me that be constantly called her by that name. When Mr. Keble Howard died a year ago last March my wife and 1 naturally at once got hold of his widow to come and make our house her home. We have been in the closest.touch with her ever since, and she has become the friend in whom we all confide our joys and our sorrows.

“Here my story ends. I give it without comment. lam not going to enter into correspondence about it, and under no consideration will I divulge the woman’s name. I may say that Mrs. Keble Howard has not only given .me permission to publish the story, but she is most anxious for me to do so. in the hope that it may comfort those who thought death was the end of everything.” .