he jewels wrapped in
mummy-cloth as he had found them. First he produced a sceptre-head of
gold, in the shape of a pomegranate fruit and engraved with the throne
name and titles of Ma-Mee.

"What a beautiful object!" said the Director. "Look! the handle was of
ivory, and that _sacre_ 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-Me, 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 ca