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
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.