(Ma-Mee had worn both of them
upon the third finger of her left hand, the Bes ring as a guard to the
signet.) He had the fancy to approach the effigy of Ma-Mee wearing a
ring which she had worn and that came straight from her finger to his
own.
Smith found the head in its accustomed place. Weeks had gone by since he
looked upon it, and now, to his eyes, it had grown more beautiful
than ever, and its smile was more mystical and living. He drew out the
statuette and began to compare them point by point. Oh, no doubt was
possible! Both were likenesses of the same woman, though the statuette
might have been executed two or three years later than the statue. To
him the face of it looked a little older and more spiritual. Perhaps
illness, or some premonition of her end had then thrown its shadow on
the queen. He compared and compared. He made some rough measurements
and sketches in his pocket-book, and set himself to work out a canon of
proportions.
So hard and earnestly did he work, so lost was his mind that he never
heard the accustomed warning sound which announces that the Museum
is about to close. Hidden behind an altar as he was, in his distant,
shadowed corner, the guardian of the room never saw him as he cast
a last perfunctory glance about the place before departing till the
Saturday morning; for the morrow was Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath,
on which the Museum remains shut, and he would not be called upon to
attend.
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