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Edgar Cayce – Joseph Millard

Suddenly, there was the pound of heavy feet running up the narrow stairway from the street. A woman burst in, her eyes wild with panic, her face chalk-white. A man staggered behind her, a little girl of perhaps four in his arms. The child was gasping for breath, her face almost purple.

"She's choking to death," the woman cried, wringing her hands. "The doctor says there's an obstruction in her windpipe, but they took X-rays, and they don't show anything there."

"For God's sake, save her," the father panted. "I thought this was a fake, but if you can save her I'll believe anything."

Edgar was already racing to the couch in the adjoining room, tearing open his collar as he ran. "Hurry up," he shouted back at Layne. "There isn't a moment to lose."

When Edgar awoke, Layne was staring at him strangely. The couple with the child were gone. Edgar sat up. "Where are they? What did I say? Did I do that little girl any good?"

"We'll know in a few minutes," Layne said. "They tore out of here for the hospital the moment you told them what was wrong. I brought you out of it a little more slowly this time, because you've already given two readings today, and I didn’t know how an extra one under pressure like that might affect you."

"What was choking her?" Edgar demanded. "What did I say?"

Before Layne could answer, the father ran in. He seized Edgar's hand and pumped it, while tears poured down his cheeks. "You saved her. You saved her when no one else could."

"But what was strangling her?" Edgar demanded again.

'A celluloid collar button she'd swallowed. That's why it wouldn't show up on the X-ray plate. The doctor thought I was crazy coming to you, but he found the button exactly where you said it would be."

Edgar fell back on the couch, trembling. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, whispering over and ever, "Thank You, God. Thank You for that child."