Around the World in Eighty Days, Page 35

  Chapter XXXIV

  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AT LAST REACHES LONDON

  Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House,and he was to be transferred to London the next day.

  Passepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would have fallen uponFix had he not been held back by some policemen. Aouda wasthunderstruck at the suddenness of an event which she could notunderstand. Passepartout explained to her how it was that the honestand courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber. The young woman's heartrevolted against so heinous a charge, and when she saw that she couldattempt to do nothing to save her protector, she wept bitterly.

  As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his duty, whetherMr. Fogg were guilty or not.

  The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the cause of this newmisfortune! Had he not concealed Fix's errand from his master? WhenFix 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 Fixproof of his innocence, and satisfied him of his mistake; at least, Fixwould not have continued his journey at the expense and on the heels ofhis master, only to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil.Passepartout wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing his brainsout.

  Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of theCustom House. Neither wished to leave the place; both were anxious tosee Mr. Fogg again.

  That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when he wasabout to attain his end. This arrest was fatal. Having arrived atLiverpool at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st of December, hehad till a quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform Club,that is, nine hours and a quarter; the journey from Liverpool to Londonwas six hours.

  If anyone, at this moment, had entered the Custom House, he would havefound Mr. Fogg seated, motionless, calm, and without apparent anger,upon a wooden bench. He was not, it is true, resigned; but this lastblow failed to force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion. Washe being devoured by one of those secret rages, all the more terriblebecause contained, and which only burst forth, with an irresistibleforce, at the last moment? No one could tell. There he sat, calmlywaiting--for what? Did he still cherish hope? Did he still believe,now that the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he wouldsucceed?

  However that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put his watch upon thetable, and observed its advancing hands. Not a word escaped his lips,but his look was singularly set and stern. The situation, in anyevent, was a terrible one, and might be thus stated: if Phileas Foggwas honest he was ruined; if he was a knave, he was caught.

  Did escape occur to him? Did he examine to see if there were anypracticable outlet from his prison? Did he think of escaping from it?Possibly; for once he walked slowly around the room. But the door waslocked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods. He sat downagain, and drew his journal from his pocket. On the line where thesewords 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 watchwas two hours too fast.

  Two hours! Admitting that he was at this moment taking an expresstrain, he could reach London and the Reform Club by a quarter beforenine, 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, andimmediately after that of Fix. Phileas Fogg's eyes brightened for aninstant.

  The door swung open, and he saw Passepartout, Aouda, and Fix, whohurried towards him.

  Fix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder. He could notspeak. "Sir," he stammered, "sir--forgive me--most--unfortunateresemblance--robber arrested three days ago--you are free!"

  Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to the detective, looked him steadilyin the face, and with the only rapid motion he had ever made in hislife, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with theprecision of a machine knocked Fix down.

  "Well hit!" cried Passepartout, "Parbleu! that's what you might call agood application of English fists!"

  Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a word. He had onlyreceived his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout left theCustom House without delay, got into a cab, and in a few momentsdescended at the station.

  Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leave forLondon. It was forty minutes past two. The express train had leftthirty-five minutes before. Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.

  There were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the railwayarrangements did not permit the special train to leave until threeo'clock.

  At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the engineer by the offerof a generous reward, at last set out towards London with Aouda and hisfaithful servant.

  It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half; and thiswould have been easy on a clear road throughout. But there were forceddelays, and when Mr. Fogg stepped from the train at the terminus, allthe clocks in London were striking ten minutes before nine.

  Having made the tour of the world, he was behind-hand five minutes. Hehad lost the wager!