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!" said the Master to himself, as the door closed behind his visitor.
"He's in a hurry to be gone. He has fear lest I should change my mind
about that ring. Also there is the bronze. Monsieur Smith was _ruse_
there. It is worth a thousand pounds, that bronze. Yet I do not believe
he was thinking of the money. I believe he is in love with that Ma-Mee
and wants to keep her picture. _Mon Dieu!_ A well-established affection.
At least he is what the English call an odd fish, one whom I could never
make out, and of whom no one seems to know anything. Still, honest, I
am sure--quite honest. Why, he might have kept every one of those jewels
and no one have been the wiser. And what things! What a find! _Ciel!_
what a find! There has been nothing like it for years. Benedictions on
the head of Odd-fish Smith!"

Then he collected the precious objects, thrust them into an inner
compartment of his safe, which he locked and double-locked, and, as
it was nearly five o'clock, departed from the Museum to his private
residence in the grounds, there to study Smith's copies and photographs,
and to tell some friends of the great things that had happened.