The other guest, who sat on my young lady's right hand, was an eminent

public character--being no other than the celebrated Indian traveller,

Mr. Murthwaite, who, at risk of his life, had penetrated in disguise

where no European had ever set foot before.

This was a long, lean, wiry, brown, silent man. He had a weary look, and

a very steady, attentive eye. It was rumoured that he was tired of the

humdrum life among the people in our parts, and longing to go back and

wander off on the tramp again in the wild places of the East. Except

what he said to Miss Rachel about her jewel, I doubt if he spoke six

words or drank so much as a single glass of wine, all through the

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dinner. The Moonstone was the only object that interested him in the

smallest degree. The fame of it seemed to have reached him, in some

of those perilous Indian places where his wanderings had lain. After

looking at it silently for so long a time that Miss Rachel began to get

confused, he said to her in his cool immovable way, "If you ever go to

India, Miss Verinder, don't take your uncle's birthday gift with you. A

Hindoo diamond is sometimes part of a Hindoo religion. I know a certain

city, and a certain temple in that city, where, dressed as you are now,

your life would not be worth five minutes' purchase." Miss Rachel, safe

in England, was quite delighted to hear of her danger in India. The

Bouncers were more delighted still; they dropped their knives and forks

with a crash, and burst out together vehemently, "O! how interesting!"

My lady fidgeted in her chair, and changed the subject.

As the dinner got on, I became aware, little by little, that this

festival was not prospering as other like festivals had prospered before

it.

Looking back at the birthday now, by the light of what happened

afterwards, I am half inclined to think that the cursed Diamond must

have cast a blight on the whole company. I plied them well with wine;

and being a privileged character, followed the unpopular dishes round

the table, and whispered to the company confidentially, "Please to

change your mind and try it; for I know it will do you good." Nine

times out of ten they changed their minds--out of regard for their old

original Betteredge, they were pleased to say--but all to no purpose.

There were gaps of silence in the talk, as the dinner got on, that made

me feel personally uncomfortable. When they did use their tongues again,

they used them innocently, in the most unfortunate manner and to the

worst possible purpose. Mr. Candy, the doctor, for instance, said more

unlucky things than I ever knew him to say before. Take one sample of

the way in which he went on, and you will understand what I had to put

up with at the sideboard, officiating as I was in the character of a man

who had the prosperity of the festival at heart.




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