Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends,Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.

Passepartout, who had conscientiously studied the programme of hisduties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of theinexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according torule, he was not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.

Mr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom, and called out, "Passepartout!"

Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called; it wasnot the right hour.

"Passepartout!" repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.

Passepartout made his appearance.

"I've called you twice," observed his master.

"But it is not midnight," responded the other, showing his watch.

"I know it; I don't blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in tenminutes."

A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout's round face; clearly he had notcomprehended his master.

"Monsieur is going to leave home?"

"Yes," returned Phileas Fogg. "We are going round the world."

Passepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up hishands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he with stupefiedastonishment.

"Round the world!" he murmured.

"In eighty days," responded Mr. Fogg. "So we haven't a moment to lose."

"But the trunks?" gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying his headfrom right to left.

"We'll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag, with two shirts and threepairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We'll buy our clotheson the way. Bring down my mackintosh and traveling-cloak, and somestout shoes, though we shall do little walking. Make haste!"

Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted tohis own room, fell into a chair, and muttered: "That's good, that is!And I, who wanted to remain quiet!"

He mechanically set about making the preparations for departure.Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool? No. Was thisa joke, then? They were going to Dover; good! To Calais; good again!After all, Passepartout, who had been away from France five years,would not be sorry to set foot on his native soil again. Perhaps theywould go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Parisonce more. But surely a gentleman so chary of his steps would stopthere; no doubt--but, then, it was none the less true that he wasgoing away, this so domestic person hitherto!

By eight o'clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpet-bag,containing the wardrobes of his master and himself; then, stilltroubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room, and descendedto Mr. Fogg.

Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed ared-bound copy of Bradshaw's Continental Railway Steam Transit andGeneral Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival and departure ofsteamers and railways. He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slippedinto it a goodly roll of Bank of England notes, which would passwherever he might go.

"You have forgotten nothing?" asked he.

"Nothing, monsieur."

"My mackintosh and cloak?"

"Here they are."

"Good! Take this carpet-bag," handing it to Passepartout. "Take goodcare of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it."

Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand poundswere in gold, and weighed him down.

Master and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked, andat the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to CharingCross. The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutespast eight. Passepartout jumped off the box and followed his master,who, after paying the cabman, was about to enter the station, when apoor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, her naked feet smearedwith mud, her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung atattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl,approached, and mournfully asked for alms.

Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, andhanded them to the beggar, saying, "Here, my good woman. I'm glad thatI met you;" and passed on.

Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes; his master's actiontouched his susceptible heart.

Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr.Fogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived his fivefriends of the Reform.

"Well, gentlemen," said he, "I'm off, you see; and, if you will examinemy passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I haveaccomplished the journey agreed upon."

"Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said Ralph politely."We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour."

"You do not forget when you are due in London again?" asked Stuart.

"In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarterbefore nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen."

Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-classcarriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistlescreamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.

The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Phileas Fogg,snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips. Passepartout,not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to thecarpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.

Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout suddenlyuttered a cry of despair.

"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"Alas! In my hurry--I--I forgot--"

"What?"

"To turn off the gas in my room!"

"Very well, young man," returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; "it will burn--atyour expense."

Chapter V

IN WHICH A NEW SPECIES OF FUNDS, UNKNOWN TO THE MONEYED MEN, APPEARS ON'CHANGE

Phileas Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London wouldcreate a lively sensation at the West End. The news of the bet spreadthrough the Reform Club, and afforded an exciting topic of conversationto its members. From the club it soon got into the papers throughoutEngland. The boasted "tour of the world" was talked about, disputed,argued with as much warmth as if the subject were another Alabamaclaim. Some took sides with Phileas Fogg, but the large majority shooktheir heads and declared against him; it was absurd, impossible, theydeclared, that the tour of the world could be made, excepttheoretically and on paper, in this minimum of time, and with theexisting means of travelling. The Times, Standard, Morning Post, andDaily News, and twenty other highly respectable newspapers scouted Mr.Fogg's project as madness; the Daily Telegraph alone hesitatinglysupported him. People in general thought him a lunatic, and blamed hisReform Club friends for having accepted a wager which betrayed themental aberration of its proposer.

Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question, forgeography is one of the pet subjects of the English; and the columnsdevoted to Phileas Fogg's venture were eagerly devoured by all classesof readers. At first some rash individuals, principally of the gentlersex, espoused his cause, which became still more popular when theIllustrated London News came out with his portrait, copied from aphotograph in the Reform Club. A few readers of the Daily Telegrapheven dared to say, "Why not, after all? Stranger things have come topass."

At last a long article appeared, on the 7th of October, in the bulletinof the Royal Geographical Society, which treated the question fromevery point of view, and demonstrated the utter folly of the enterprise.

Everything, it said, was against the travellers, every obstacle imposedalike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times ofdeparture and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessaryto his success. He might, perhaps, reckon on the arrival of trains atthe designated hours, in Europe, where the distances were relativelymoderate; but when he calculated upon crossing India in three days, andthe United States in seven, could he rely beyond misgiving uponaccomplishing his task? There were accidents to machinery, theliability of trains to run off the line, collisions, bad weather, theblocking up by snow--were not all these against Phileas Fogg? Would henot find himself, when travelling by steamer in winter, at the mercy ofthe winds and fogs? Is it uncommon for the best ocean steamers to betwo or three days behind time? But a single delay would suffice tofatally break the chain of communication; should Phileas Fogg oncemiss, even by an hour; a steamer, he would have to wait for the next,and that would irrevocably render his attempt vain.

This article made a great deal of noise, and, being copied into all thepapers, seriously depressed the advocates of the rash tourist.

Everybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are of ahigher class than mere gamblers; to bet is in the English temperament.Not only the members of the Reform, but the general public, made heavywagers for or against Phileas Fogg, who was set down in the bettingbooks as if he were a race-horse. Bonds were issued, and made theirappearance on 'Change; "Phileas Fogg bonds" were offered at par or at apremium, and a great business was done in them. But five days afterthe article in the bulletin of the Geographical Society appeared, thedemand began to subside: "Phileas Fogg" declined. They were offeredby packages, at first of five, then of ten, until at last nobody wouldtake less than twenty, fifty, a hundred!

Lord Albemarle, an elderly paralytic gentleman, was now the onlyadvocate of Phileas Fogg left. This noble lord, who was fastened tohis chair, would have given his fortune to be able to make the tour ofthe world, if it took ten years; and he bet five thousand pounds onPhileas Fogg. When the folly as well as the uselessness of theadventure was pointed out to him, he contented himself with replying,"If the thing is feasible, the first to do it ought to be anEnglishman."

The Fogg party dwindled more and more, everybody was going against him,and the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred to one; and aweek after his departure an incident occurred which deprived him ofbackers at any price.

The commissioner of police was sitting in his office at nine o'clockone evening, when the following telegraphic dispatch was put into hishands:

Suez to London.

Rowan, Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard:

I've found the bank robber, Phileas Fogg. Send with out delay warrantof arrest to Bombay.

Fix, Detective.

The effect of this dispatch was instantaneous. The polished gentlemandisappeared to give place to the bank robber. His photograph, whichwas hung with those of the rest of the members at the Reform Club, wasminutely examined, and it betrayed, feature by feature, the descriptionof the robber which had been provided to the police. The mysterioushabits of Phileas Fogg were recalled; his solitary ways, his suddendeparture; and it seemed clear that, in undertaking a tour round theworld on the pretext of a wager, he had had no other end in view thanto elude the detectives, and throw them off his track.