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“And why not? If his passport is regular I have no sight to refuse my visé.”
“But, Consul, I must retain this man until I have received from London a warrant of arrest.”
“Ah, Mr Fix, that is your business,” replied the Consul, “but I—I cannot—”
The Consul did not finish his phrase. At this moment there was a knock at the door of his private office, and the office boy brought in two foreigners, one of whom was the very servant who had been talking with the detective. They were, indeed, the master and servant. The master presented his passport, asking the Consul briefly to be kind enough to visé it. The latter took the passport and read it carefully, while Fix, in one corner of the room, was observing or rather devouring the stranger with his eyes.
When the Consul had finished reading, he asked:
“You are Phileas Fogg, Esq.?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the gentleman.
“And this man is your servant?”
“Yes, a Frenchman named Passepartout.”
“You come from London?”
“Yes.”
“And you are going?”
“To Bombay.”
“Well, sir, you know that this formality of the visé is useless, and that we no longer demand the presentation of the passport?”
“I know it, sir,” replied Phileas Fogg, “but I wish to prove by your visé my trip to Suez.”
“Very well, sir.”
And the Consul having signed and dated the passport, affixed his seal, Mr Fogg settled the fee, and having bowed coldly, he went out, followed by his servant.
“Well?” asked the detective.
“Well,” replied the Consul, “he has the appearance of a perfectly honest man!”
“Possibly,” replied Fix; “but that is not the question with us. Do you find, Consul, that this phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature for feature, the robber whose description I have received?”
“I agree with you, but you know that all descriptions—”
“I shall have a clear conscience about it,” replied Fix.
“The servant appears to me less of a riddle than the master. Moreover, he is a Frenchman, who cannot keep from talking. I will see you soon again, Consul.”
The detective then went out, intent upon the search for Passepartout.
In the meantime Mr Fogg, after leaving the Consul’s house, had gone towards the wharf. There he gave some orders to his servant; then he got into a boat, returned on board the Mongolia, and went into his cabin. He then took out his memorandum book, in which were the following notes:
“Left London, Wednesday, October 2, 8.45 p.m.
“Arrived at Paris, Thursday, October 3, 7.20 a.m.
“Left Paris, Thursday, 8.40 a.m.
“Arrived at Turin, via Mont Cenis, Friday, October 4, 6.35 a.m.
“Left Turin, Friday, 7.27 a.m.
“Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday, October 5, 4 p.m.
“Set sail on the Mongolia, Saturday, 5 p.m.
“Arrived at Suez, Wednesday, October 9, 11 a.m.
“Total of hours consumed, 158 1-2; or in days, 6 1-2 days.”
Mr Fogg wrote down these dates in a guide-book arranged by columns, which indicated, from the 2nd of October to the 21st of December—the month, the day of the month, the day of the week, the stipulated and actual arrivals at each principal point, Paris, Brindisi, Suez, Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong-Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco, New York, Liverpool, London, and which allowed him to figure the gain made or the loss experienced at each place on the route. In this methodical book he thus kept an account of everything, and Mr Fogg knew always whether he was ahead of time or behind.
He noted down then this day, Wednesday, October 9, his arrival at Suez, which agreeing with the stipulated arrival, neither made a gain or a loss. Then he had his breakfast served up in his cabin. As to seeing the town, he did not even think of it, being of that race of Englishmen who have their servants visit the countries they pass through.
CHAPTER 8 (#ulink_a4d82eb5-126e-57fb-874a-657d4b445156)
In which Passepartout perhaps talks a little more than is proper
Fix had in a few moments rejoined Passepartout on the wharf, who was loitering and looking about, not believing that he was obliged not to see anything.
“Well, my friend,” said Fix, coming up to him, “is your passport viséd?”
“Ah! it is you, monsieur,” replied the Frenchman.
“Much obliged. It is all in order.”
“And you are looking at the country?”
“Yes, but we go so quickly that it seems to me as if I am travelling in a dream. And so we are in Suez?”
“Yes, in Suez.”
“In Egypt?”
“You are quite right, in Egypt.”
“And in Africa?”
“Yes, in Africa?”
“In Africa?” repeated Passepartout. “I cannot believe it. Just fancy, sir, that I imagined we would not go farther than Paris, and I saw this famous capital again between twenty minutes after seven and twenty minutes of nine in the morning, between the northern station and the Lyons station, through the windows of a cab in a driving rain! I regret it! I would have so much liked to see again Père Lachaise and the Circus of the Champs-Elysées!”
“You are then in a great hurry?” asked the detective.
“No, I am not, but my master is. By the bye, I must buy some shirts and shoes! We came away without trunks, with a carpet-bag only.”
“I am going to take you to a shop where you will find everything you want.”
“Monsieur,” replied Passepartout, “you are really very kind.”
And both started off. Passepartout talked incessantly.
“Above all,” he said, “I must take care not to miss the steamer!”
“You have the time,” replied Fix, “it is only noon!”
Passepartout pulled out his large watch.
“Noon. Pshaw! It is eight minutes of ten!”
“Your watch is slow!” replied Fix.
“My watch! A family watch that has come down from my great-grandfather! It don’t vary five minutes in the year. It is a genuine chronometer.”
“I see what is the matter,” replied Fix. “You have kept London time, which is about two hours slower than Suez. You must be careful to set your watch at noon in each country.”
“What! I touch my watch!” cried Passepartout. “Never.”
“Well, then, it will not agree with the sun.”
“So much the worse for the sun, monsieur! The sun will be wrong then!”
And the good fellow put his watch back in his fob with a magnificent gesture.
A few moments after Fix said to him: “You left London very hurriedly then?”
“I should think so! Last Wednesday, at eight o’clock in the evening, contrary to all his habits, Monsieur Fogg returned from his Club, and in three-quarters of an hour afterwards we were off.”
“But where is your master going, then?”
“Right straight ahead! He is making the tour of the world!”
“The tour of the world!” cried Fix.
“Yes, in eighty days! On a wager, he says; but, between ourselves, I do not believe it. There is no common sense in it. There must be something else.”
“This Mr Fogg is an original genius?”
“I should think so.”
“Is he rich?”
“Evidently, and he carries such a fine sum with him in fresh money on the route! And he doesn’t spare his money on the route! Oh! but he has promised a splendid reward to the engineer of the Mongolia, if we arrive at Bombay considerably in advance!”
“And you have known him for a long time, this master of yours?”
“I,” replied Passepartout, “I entered his service the very day of our departure.”
The effect which these answers naturally produced upon the mind of the detective, already strained with excitement, may easily be imagined.
This hurried departure from London so short a time after the robbery, this large sum carried away, this haste to arrive in distant countries, this pretext of an eccentric wager, all could have no other effect than to confirm Fix in his ideas. He kept the Frenchman talking, and learned to a certainty that this fellow did not know his master at all, that he lived isolated in London, that he was called rich without the source of his fortune being known, that he was a mysterious man, etc. But at the same time Fix was certain that Phileas Fogg would not get off at Suez, but he was really going to Bombay.
“Is Bombay far from here?” asked Passepartout.
“Pretty far,” replied the detective. “It will take you ten days more by sea.”
“And where do you locate Bombay?”
“In India.”
“In Asia?”
“Of course.”
“The deuce! What I was going to tell you—there is one thing that bothers me—it is my burner.”
“What burner?”
“My gas-burner, which I forgot to turn off, and which is burning at my expense. Now, I have calculated that it will cost me two shillings each twenty-four hours, exactly sixpence more than I earn, and you understand that, however little our journey may be prolonged—”
Did Fix understand the matter of the gas? It is improbable. He did not listen any longer, and was coming to a determination. The Frenchman and he had arrived at the shop. Fix left his companion there making his purchases, recommending him not to miss the departure of the Mongolia, and he returned in great haste to the Consul’s office. Fix had regained his coolness completely, now he was fully convinced.
“Monsieur,” said he to the Consul, “I have my man. He is passing himself off as an oddity, who wishes to make the tour of the world in eighty days.”
“Then he is a rogue,” replied the Consul, “and he counts on returning to London after having deceived all the police of the two continents.”
“We will see,” replied Fix.
“But are you not mistaken?” asked the Consul once more.
“I am not mistaken.”
“Why, then, has this robber insisted upon having his stopping at Suez confirmed by a visé?”
“Why? I do not know, Consul,” replied the detective; “but listen to me.” And in a few words he related the salient points of his conversation with the servant of the said Fogg.
“Indeed,” said the Consul, “all the presumptions are against this man. And what are you going to do?”
“Send a dispatch to London with the urgent request to send to me at once at Bombay a warrant of arrest, set sail upon the Mongolia, follow my robber to the Indies, and there, on British soil, accost him politely, with the warrant in one hand, and the other hand upon his shoulder.”
Having coolly uttered these words, the detective took leave of the Consul, and repaired to the telegraph office. Thence he dispatched to the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, as we have already seen. A quarter of an hour later Fix, with his light baggage in his hand, and besides well supplied with money, went on board the Mongolia, and soon the swift steamer was threading its way under full head of steam on the waters of the Red Sea.
