In which Phileas Fogg at last
Phileas Fogg was in prison.
He had been shut up in the Custom
House, and he was to he transferred
to London the next day.
Passepartout, when he saw his
master arrested, would have fallen
upon Fix had he not been held
back by some policemen. Aouda
was thunderstruck at the suddenness
of an event which she could not
understand. Passepartout explained
to her how it was that the honest
and courageous Fogg was arrested
as a robber. The young woman's
heart revolted against so heinous
a charge, and when she saw that
she could attempt to do nothing
to save her protector, she wept
As for Fix, he had arrested
Mr. Fogg because it was his duty,
whether Mr. Fogg were guilty
The thought then struck Passepartout,
that he was the cause of this
new misfortune! Had he not concealed
Fix's errand from his master?
When Fix revealed his true character
and purpose, why had he not told
Mr. Fogg? If the latter had been
warned, he would no doubt have
given Fix proof of his innocence,
and satisfied him of his mistake;
at least, Fix would not have
continued his journey at the
expense and on the heels of his
master, only to arrest him the
moment he set foot on English
soil. Passepartout wept till
he was blind, and felt like blowing
his brains out.
Aouda and he had remained,
despite the cold, under the portico
of the Custom House. Neither
wished to leave the place; both
were anxious to see Mr. Fogg
That gentleman was really ruined,
and that at the moment when he
was about to attain his end.
This arrest was fatal. Having
arrived at Liverpool at twenty
minutes before twelve on the
21st of December, he had till
a quarter before nine that evening
to reach the Reform Club, that
is, nine hours and a quarter;
the journey from Liverpool to
London was six hours.
If anyone, at this moment,
had entered the Custom House,
he would have found Mr. Fogg
seated, motionless, calm, and
without apparent anger, upon
a wooden bench. He was not, it
is true, resigned; but this last
blow failed to force him into
an outward betrayal of any emotion.
Was he being devoured by one
of those secret rages, all the
more terrible because contained,
and which only burst forth, with
an irresistible force, at the
last moment? No one could tell.
There he sat, calmly waiting--for
what? Did he still cherish hope?
Did he still believe, now that
the door of this prison was closed
upon him, that he would succeed?
However that may have been,
Mr. Fogg carefully put his watch
upon the table, and observed
its advancing hands. Not a word
escaped his lips, but his look
was singularly set and stern.
The situation, in any event,
was a terrible one, and might
be thus stated: if Phileas Fogg
was honest he was ruined; if
he was a knave, he was caught.
occur to him? Did he examine
to see if there were
any practicable outlet from his
prison? Did he think of escaping
from it? Possibly; for once he
walked slowly around the room.
But the door was locked, and
the window heavily barred with
iron rods. He sat down again,
and drew his journal from his
pocket. On the line where these
words were written, "21st December,
Saturday, Liverpool," he added, "80th
day, 11.40 a.m.," and waited.
The Custom House clock struck
one. Mr. Fogg observed that his
watch was two hours too fast.
Two hours! Admitting that he
was at this moment taking an
express train, he could reach
London and the Reform Club by
a quarter before nine, p.m. His
forehead slightly wrinkled.
At thirty-three minutes past
two he heard a singular noise
outside, then a hasty opening
of doors. Passepartout's voice
was audible, and immediately
after that of Fix. Phileas Fogg's
eyes brightened for an instant.
The door swung open, and he
saw Passepartout, Aouda, and
Fix, who hurried towards him.
Fix was out
of breath, and his hair was
in disorder. He
could not speak. "Sir," he stammered, "sir--forgive
me--most-- unfortunate resemblance--
robber arrested three days ago--you
Phileas Fogg was free! He walked
to the detective, looked him
steadily in the face, and with
the only rapid motion he had
ever made in his life, or which
he ever would make, drew back
his arms, and with the precision
of a machine knocked Fix down.
"Well hit!" cried Passepartout, "Parbleu!
that's what you might call a
good application of English fists!"
Fix, who found himself on the
floor, did not utter a word.
He had only received his deserts.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout
left the Custom House without
delay, got into a cab, and in
a few moments descended at the
Phileas Fogg asked if there
was an express train about to
leave for London. It was forty
minutes past two. The express
train had left thirty-five minutes
before. Phileas Fogg then ordered
a special train.
There were several rapid locomotives
on hand; but the railway arrangements
did not permit the special train
to leave until three o'clock.
At that hour Phileas Fogg,
having stimulated the engineer
by the offer of a generous reward,
at last set out towards London
with Aouda and his faithful servant.
It was necessary
to make the journey in five
hours and a half;
and this would have been easy
on a clear road throughout. But
there were forced delays, and
when Mr. Fogg stepped from the
train at the terminus, all the
clocks in London were striking
ten minutes before nine."
Having made the tour of the
world, he was behind-hand five
minutes. He had lost the wager!