In which the bag of banknotes
disgorges some thousands of pounds
more
The train entered the station,
and Passepartout jumping out
first, was followed by Mr. Fogg,
who assisted his fair companion
to descend. Phileas Fogg intended
to proceed at once to the Hong
Kong steamer, in order to get
Aouda comfortably settled for
the voyage. He was unwilling
to leave her while they were
still on dangerous ground.
Just as he
was leaving the station a policeman
came up to
him, and said, "Mr. Phileas Fogg?"
"I am he."
"Is this man your servant?" added
the policeman, pointing to Passepartout.
"Yes."
"Be so good,
both of you, as to follow me."
Mr. Fogg betrayed no surprise
whatever. The policeman was a
representative of the law, and
law is sacred to an Englishman.
Passepartout tried to reason
about the matter, but the policeman
tapped him with his stick, and
Mr. Fogg made him a signal to
obey.
"May this young lady go with
us?" asked he.
"She may," replied
the policeman.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda,
and Passepartout were conducted
to a palkigahri,
a sort of four-wheeled carriage,
drawn by two horses, in which
they took their places and were
driven away. No one spoke during
the twenty minutes which elapsed
before they reached their destination.
They first passed through the "black
town," with its narrow streets,
its miserable, dirty huts, and
squalid population; then through
the "European town," which presented
a relief in its bright brick
mansions, shaded by coconut-trees
and bristling with masts, where,
although it was early morning,
elegantly dressed horsemen and
handsome equipages were passing
back and forth.
The carriage
stopped before a modest-looking
house, which,
however, did not have the appearance
of a private mansion. The policeman
having requested his prisoners
for so, truly, they might be
called-to descend, conducted
them into a room with barred
windows, and said: "You will
appear before Judge Obadiah at
half-past eight."
He then retired, and closed
the door.
"Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed
Passepartout, falling into a
chair.
Aouda, with
an emotion she tried to conceal,
said to Mr.
Fogg: "Sir, you must leave me
to my fate! It is on my account
that you receive this treatment,
it is for having saved me!"
Phileas Fogg contented himself
with saying that it was impossible.
It was quite unlikely that he
should be arrested for preventing
a suttee. The complainants would
not dare present themselves with
such a charge. There was some
mistake. Moreover, he would not,
in any event, abandon Aouda,
but would escort her to Hong
Kong.
"But the steamer leaves at
noon!" observed Passepartout,
nervously.
"We shall be on board by noon," replied
his master, placidly.
It was said
so positively that Passepartout
could not help muttering
to himself, "Parbleu that's certain!
Before noon we shall be on board." But
he was by no means reassured.
At half-past eight the door
opened, the policeman appeared,
and, requesting them to follow
him, led the way to an adjoining
hall. It was evidently a court-room,
and a crowd of Europeans and
natives already occupied the
rear of the apartment.
Mr. Fogg and his two companions
took their places on a bench
opposite the desks of the magistrate
and his clerk. Immediately after,
Judge Obadiah, a fat, round man,
followed by the clerk, entered.
He proceeded to take down a wig
which was hanging on a nail,
and put it hurriedly on his head.
"The first case," said he.
Then, putting his hand to his
head, he exclaimed, "Heh! This
is not my wig!"
"No, your worship," returned
the clerk, "it is mine."
"My dear Mr.
Oysterpuff, how can a judge
give a wise sentence
in a clerk's wig?"
The wigs were exchanged.
Passepartout was getting nervous,
for the hands on the face of
the big clock over the judge
seemed to go around with terrible
rapidity.
"The first case," repeated
Judge Obadiah.
"Phileas Fogg?" demanded
Oysterpuff.
"I am here," replied
Mr. Fogg.
"Passepartout?"
"Present," responded
Passepartout.
"Good," said the judge. "You
have been looked for, prisoners,
for two days on the trains from
Bombay."
"But of what are we accused?" asked
Passepartout, impatiently.
"You are about
to be informed."
"I am an English subject, sir," said
Mr. Fogg, "and I have the right--"
"Have you been
ill-treated?"
"Not at all."
"Very well;
let the complainants come in."
A door was swung open by order
of the judge, and three Indian
priests entered.
"That's it," muttered Passepartout; "these
are the rogues who were going
to burn our young lady."
The priests took their places
in front of the judge, and the
clerk proceeded to read in a
loud voice a complaint of sacrilege
against Phileas Fogg and his
servant, who were accused of
having violated a place held
consecrated by the Brahmin religion.
"You hear the charge?" asked
the judge.
"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg,
consulting his watch, "and I
admit it."
"You admit
it?"
"I admit it,
and I wish to hear these priests
admit, in
their turn, what they were going
to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."
The priests looked at each
other; they did not seem to understand
what was said.
"Yes," cried Passepartout,
warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji,
where they were on the point
of burning their victim."
The judge stared with astonishment,
and the priests were stupefied.
"What victim?" said Judge Obadiah. "Burn
whom? In Bombay itself?"
"Bombay?" cried
Passepartout.
"Certainly.
We are not talking of the pagoda
of Pillaji, but
of the pagoda of Malabar Hill,
at Bombay."
"And as a proof," added the
clerk, "here are the desecrator's
very shoes, which he left behind
him."
Whereupon he placed a pair
of shoes on his desk.
"My shoes!" cried
Passepartout, in his surprise
permitting this
imprudent exclamation to escape
him.
The confusion of master and
man, who had quite forgotten
the affair at Bombay, for which
they were now detained at Calcutta,
may be imagined.
Fix the detective, had foreseen
the advantage which Passepartout's
escapade gave him, and, delaying
his departure for twelve hours,
had consulted the priests of
Malabar Hill. Knowing that the
English authorities dealt very
severely with this kind of misdemeanour,
he promised them a goodly sum
in damages, and sent them forward
to Calcutta by the next train.
Owing to the delay caused by
the rescue of the young widow,
Fix and the priests reached the
Indian capital before Mr. Fogg
and his servant, the magistrates
having been already warned by
a dispatch to arrest them should
they arrive. Fix's disappointment
when he learned that Phileas
Fogg had not made his appearance
in Calcutta may be imagined.
He made up his mind that the
robber had stopped somewhere
on the route and taken refuge
in the southern provinces. For
twenty-four hours Fix watched
the station with feverish anxiety;
at last he was rewarded by seeing
Mr. Fogg and Passepartout arrive,
accompanied by a young woman,
whose presence he was wholly
at a loss to explain. He hastened
for a policeman; and this was
how the party came to be arrested
and brought before Judge Obadiah.
Had Passepartout been a little
less preoccupied, he would have
espied the detective ensconced
in a corner of the court-room,
watching the proceedings with
an interest easily understood;
for the warrant had failed to
reach him at Calcutta, as it
had done at Bombay and Suez.
Judge Obadiah had unfortunately
caught Passepartout's rash exclamation,
which the poor fellow would have
given the world to recall.
"The facts are admitted?" asked
the judge.
"Admitted," replied
Mr. Fogg, coldly.
"Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as
the English law protects equally
and sternly the religions of
the Indian people, and as the
man Passepartout has admitted
that he violated the sacred pagoda
of Malabar Hill, at Bombay, on
the 20th of October, I condemn
the said Passepartout to imprisonment
for fifteen days and a fine of
three hundred pounds."
"Three hundred pounds!" cried
Passepartout, startled at the
largeness of the sum.
"Silence!" shouted
the constable.
"And inasmuch," continued the
judge, "as it is not proved that
the act was not done by the connivance
of the master with the servant,
and as the master in any case
must be held responsible for
the acts of his paid servant,
I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week's
imprisonment and a fine of one
hundred and fifty pounds."
Fix rubbed his hands softly
with satisfaction; if Phileas
Fogg could be detained in Calcutta
a week, it would be more than
time for the warrant to arrive.
Passepartout was stupefied. This
sentence ruined his master. A
wager of twenty thousand pounds
lost, because he, like a precious
fool, had gone into that abominable
pagoda!
Phileas Fogg,
as self-composed as if the
judgment did not in
the least concern him, did not
even lift his eyebrows while
it was being pronounced. Just
as the clerk was calling the
next case, he rose, and said, "I
offer bail."
"You have that right," returned
the judge.
Fix's blood ran cold, but he
resumed his composure when he
heard the judge announce that
the bail required for each prisoner
would be one thousand pounds.
"I will pay it at once," said
Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank-bills
from the carpet-bag, which Passepartout
had by him, and placing them
on the clerk's desk.
"This sum will be restored
to you upon your release from
prison," said the judge. "Meanwhile,
you are liberated on bail."
"Come!" said
Phileas Fogg to his servant.
"But let them at least give
me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout
angrily.
"Ah, these are pretty dear
shoes!" he muttered, as they
were handed to him. "More than
a thousand pounds apiece; besides,
they pinch my feet."
Mr. Fogg, offering his arm
to Aouda, then departed, followed
by the crestfallen Passepartout.
Fix still nourished hopes that
the robber would not, after all,
leave the two thousand pounds
behind him, but would decide
to serve out his week in jail,
and issued forth on Mr. Fogg's
traces. That gentleman took a
carriage, and the party were
soon landed on one of the quays.
The Rangoon was moored half
a mile off in the harbour, its
signal of departure hoisted at
the mast-head. Eleven o'clock
was striking; Mr. Fogg was an
hour in advance of time. Fix
saw them leave the carriage and
push off in a boat for the steamer,
and stamped his feet with disappointment.
"The rascal is off, after all!" he
exclaimed. "Two thousand pounds
sacrificed! He's as prodigal
as a thief! I'll follow him to
the end of the world if necessary;
but, at the rate he is going
on, the stolen money will soon
be exhausted."
The detective was not far wrong
in making this conjecture. Since
leaving London, what with travelling
expenses, bribes, the purchase
of the elephant, bails, and fines,
Mr. Fogg had already spent more
than five thousand pounds on
the way, and the percentage of
the sum recovered from the bank
robber promised to the detectives,
was rapidly diminishing.
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