The Moonstone - Page 361/404

Betteredge dropped to the lowest depth of familiarity with me, without a

struggle to save himself. He answered by a wink!

Looking next towards Mr. Blake, I found him as restless as ever in his

bed; fretfully wondering why the influence of the laudanum had not begun

to assert itself yet. To tell him, in his present humour, that the more

he fidgeted and wondered, the longer he would delay the result for which

we were now waiting, would have been simply useless. The wiser course to

take was to dismiss the idea of the opium from his mind, by leading him

insensibly to think of something else.

With this view, I encouraged him to talk to me; contriving so to direct

the conversation, on my side, as to lead it back again to the subject

which had engaged us earlier in the evening--the subject of the Diamond.

I took care to revert to those portions of the story of the Moonstone,

which related to the transport of it from London to Yorkshire; to

the risk which Mr. Blake had run in removing it from the bank at

Frizinghall: and to the unexpected appearance of the Indians at the

house, on the evening of the birthday. And I purposely assumed, in

referring to these events, to have misunderstood much of what Mr. Blake

himself had told me a few hours since. In this way, I set him talking

on the subject with which it was now vitally important to fill his

mind--without allowing him to suspect that I was making him talk for a

purpose. Little by little, he became so interested in putting me right

that he forgot to fidget in the bed. His mind was far away from the

question of the opium, at the all-important time when his eyes first

told me that the opium was beginning to lay its hold on his brain.

I looked at my watch. It wanted five minutes to twelve, when the

premonitory symptoms of the working of the laudanum first showed

themselves to me.

At this time, no unpractised eyes would have detected any change in him.

But, as the minutes of the new morning wore away, the swiftly-subtle

progress of the influence began to show itself more plainly. The

sublime intoxication of opium gleamed in his eyes; the dew of a stealthy

perspiration began to glisten on his face. In five minutes more, the

talk which he still kept up with me, failed in coherence. He held

steadily to the subject of the Diamond; but he ceased to complete his

sentences. A little later, the sentences dropped to single words. Then,

there was an interval of silence. Then, he sat up in bed. Then, still

busy with the subject of the Diamond, he began to talk again--not to

me, but to himself. That change told me that the first stage in the

experiment was reached. The stimulant influence of the opium had got

him.