Fifty Years a Medium – Chapter 12, 8/13 by Estelle Roberts

Fawcett was a remarkable man. A fine soldier, an experienced surveyor and intrepid explorer, he was also a mystic of a high order. His last expedition began in 1925 when, with his younger son and one other companion, he penetrated the Brazilian hinterland. It was a journey from which he never returned – in the physical sense.

Several explorers claimed to have met him, or found traces of him, but none of their claims stood up to searching investigation. With the passage of years there could be only one logical conclusion – that Fawcett and his party had perished in the forests. But of the date and manner of their passing no real evidence has been found.

E. A. Reeves numbered among the many friends Fawcett left behind him. The two men had many interests in common, which included a life-long study of psychic matters. When Fawcett was reported missing, Reeves had a growing conviction that the explorer would find some means of getting in touch with him,

even though the normal channels of communication were closed. No such message reached him, however. Eventually he concluded, as had the world at large, that he had heard the last of his old friend.

Then he recalled a pocket aneroid barometer that Fawcett had used on a previous Brazilian expedition, and which the missing man had left in his keeping. It would be an interesting experiment, he thought, to include the barometer,

without disclosing the reason, among the objects submitted at my next demonstration of psychometry. Some clue, he argued, might be provided in my delineation. Accordingly the barometer found its way into the heterogeneous collection of articles that invariably clutter my tray on such occasions.

Presently I picked it up. I had, of course, no idea of it or whence it came. I must confess that I even failed to recognize what it was. At such moments the medium is less concerned with the nature of an object than with its vibrations. From its general shape and appearance within its little leather case I assumed it to be a travelling clock.

This error, however, in no way detracted from the clear-cut picture it revealed to me. I spoke at once of distant travel, of steaming forests and of primitive peoples running around naked. I could see a man wearing a broad-brimmed hat and around his waist was a belt to which a similar “clock” was buckled. I said that because of the strong psychic force exerted I believed the man to be dead.

At the end of my reading I inquired who was the owner of the “clock.”
“I am,” said Reeves.
“The man who owned it before you is sending you a message,” I said. “He asks if you remember his injured leg and wants you to know that it is now quite well.”

“I can’t recall he ever injured his leg,” Reeves said thoughtfully. “You say the man is dead?”
“I think he must be. The psychic forces are so strong. Who is he? Do I know him?”
“Colonel Fawcett.”