lled
Smith; and, in the name of Justice, let the museum which inherits it be
not the British, but that of Cairo, for this queen belongs to Egypt.
By the way, I have been told that you are delicate in the lungs. How is
your health now? Our cold winds are very trying. Quite good? Ah, that
is excellent! I suppose that you have no more articles that you can show
me?"

"I have nothing more except a mummied hand, which I found in the basket
with the jewels. The two rings off it lie there. Doubtless it was
removed to get at that bracelet. I suppose you will not mind my keeping
the hand----"

"Of the beloved of Smith," interrupted the Director drolly. "No, I
suppose not, though for my part I should prefer one that was not quite
so old. Still, perhaps _you_ will not mind my seeing it. That pocket of
yours still looks a little bulky; I thought that it contained books!"

Smith produced a cigar-box; in it was the hand wrapped in cotton wool.

"Ah," said the Director, "a pretty, well-bred hand. No doubt this
Ma-Mee was the real heiress to the throne, as she describes herself.
The Pharaoh was somebody of inferior birth, half-brother--she is called
'Royal Sister,' you remember--son of one of the Pharaoh's slave-women,
perhaps. Odd that she never mentioned him in the tomb. It looks as
though they didn't get on in life, and that she was determined to have
done with him in death. Those were the rings upon that hand, were they
not?"

He replaced them on the fingers, then took off one, a royal signet in a
cartouche, and read the inscription on the other: "'Bes Ank, Ank Bes.'
'Bes the Living, the Living Bes.'

"Your Ma-Mee had some human vanity about her," he added. "Bes, among
other things, as you know, was the god of beauty and of the adornments
of women. She wore that ring that she might remain beautiful, and that
her dresses might always fit, and her rouge never cake when she was
dancing before the gods. Also it fixes her period pretty closely, but
then so do other things. It seems a pity to rob Ma-Mee of her pet ring,
does it not? The royal signet will be enough for us."

With a little bow he gave the hand back to Smith, leaving the Bes ring
on the finger that had worn it for more than three thousand years. At
least, Smith was so sure it was the Bes ring that at the time he did not
look at it again.

Then they parted, Smith promising to return upon the morrow, which,
owing to events to be described, he did not do.

"Ah!" sa