“What a beautiful object!” said the Director. “Look! the handle was of ivory, and that _sacré_ thief of a priest smashed it out at the socket. It was fresh ivory then; the robbery must have taken place not long after the burial. See, this magnifying-glass shows it. Is that all?” Smith handed him the surviving half of the marvellous necklace that had been torn in two. “I have re-threaded it,” he muttered, “but every bead is in its place.” “Oh, heavens! How lovely! Note the cutting of those cornelian heads of Hathor and the gold lotus-blooms between—yes, and the enamelled flies beneath. We have nothing like it in the Museum.” So it went on. “Is that all?” gasped the Director at last, when every object from the basket glittered before them on the table. “Yes,” said Smith. “That is—no. I found a broken statuette hidden in the sand outside the tomb. It is of the queen, but I thought perhaps you would allow me to keep this.” “But certainly, Mr. Smith; it is yours indeed. We are not niggards here. Still, if I might see it——” From yet another pocket Smith produced the head. The Director gazed at it, then he spoke with feeling. “I said just now that you were discreet, Mr. Smith, and I have been reflecting that you are honest. But now I must add that you are very clever. If you had not made me promise that this bronze should be yours before you showed it me—well, it would never have gone into that pocket again. And, in the public interest, won’t you release me from the promise?” “_No_,” said Smith. “You are perhaps not aware,” went on the Director, with a groan, “that this is a portrait of Mariette’s unknown queen whom we are thus able to identify. It seems a pity that the two should be separated; a replica we could let you have.” “I am quite aware,” said Smith, “and I will be sure to send _you_ a replica, with photographs. Also I promise to leave the original to some museum by will.” The Director clasped the image tenderly, and, holding it to the light, read the broken cartouche beneath the breasts. “‘Ma-Mé, Great Royal Lady. Beloved of ——’ Beloved of whom? Well, of Smith, for one. Take it, monsieur, and hide it away at once, lest soon there should be another mummy in this collection, a modern mummy called 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——”