This was the end of the writing.

Having read it I examined the dress.  It was of a sort that I had never seen before, though experts to whom I have shown it say that it is certainly South American of a very early date, and like the ornaments, probably pre-Inca Peruvian.  It is full of rich colours such as I have seen in old Indian shawls which give a general effect of crimson.  This crimson robe clearly was worn over a skirt of linen that had a purple border.  In the box that I have spoken of were the ornaments, all of plain dull gold:  a waist-band; a circlet of gold for the head from which rose the crescent of the young moon and a necklace of emeralds, uncut stones now much flawed, for what reason I do not know, but polished and set rather roughly in red gold.  Also there were two rings.  Round one of these a bit of paper was wrapped upon which was written, in another hand, probably that of the father of the writer of the memorandum:—­

“Taken from the first finger of the right hand of a lady’s mummy which I am sorry, in our circumstances, it was quite impossible to carry away.”

This ring is a broad band of gold with a flat bezel upon which something was once engraved that owing to long and hard wear now cannot be distinguished.  In short, it appears to be a signet of old European make but of what age and from what country it is impossible to determine.  The other ring was in a small leathery pouch, elaborately embroidered in gold thread or very thin wire, which I suppose was part of the lady’s costume.  It is like a very massive wedding ring, but six or eight times as thick, and engraved all over with an embossed conventional design of what look like stars with rays round them, or possibly petalled flowers.  Lastly there was the sword-hilt, of which presently.

Such were the trinkets, if so they may be called.  They are of little value intrinsically except for their weight in gold, because, as I have said, the emeralds are flawed as though they have been through a fire or some other unknown cause.  Moreover, there is about them nothing of the grace and charm of ancient Egyptian jewellery; evidently they belonged to a ruder age and civilization.  Yet they had, and still have, to my imagining, a certain dignity of their own.

Also—­here I became infected with the spirit of the peculiar Potts—­without doubt these things were rich in human associations.  Who had worn that dress of crimson with the crosses worked on it in gold wire (they cannot have been Christian crosses), and the purple-bordered skirt underneath, and the emerald necklace and the golden circlet from which rose the crescent of the young moon?  Apparently a mummy in a tomb, the mummy of some long-dead lady of a strange and alien race.  Was she such a one as that old lunatic Potts had dreamed he saw standing before him in the filthy, cumbered upper-chamber of a ruinous house in an England market town, I wondered, one with great eyes like to those of a doe and a regal bearing?