"'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 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----"
"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.
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