What he said about the Diamond to Miss Rachel was said, as usual, by way of a mystification or joke.  He gravely entreated her (in the interests of science) to let him take it home and burn it.  “We will first heat it, Miss Rachel,” says the doctor, “to such and such a degree; then we will expose it to a current of air; and, little by little—­puff!—­we evaporate the Diamond, and spare you a world of anxiety about the safe keeping of a valuable precious stone!” My lady, listening with rather a careworn expression on her face, seemed to wish that the doctor had been in earnest, and that he could have found Miss Rachel zealous enough in the cause of science to sacrifice her birthday gift.

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.