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class="calibre1">From Bombay to Calcutta, by rail ………………. 3 “

From Calcutta to Hong Kong, by steamer …………. 13 “

From Hong Kong to Yokohama (Japan), by steamer ….. 6 “

From Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer ……… 22 “

From San Francisco to New York, by rail …………. 7 “

From New York to London, by steamer and rail …….. 9 “

–-

Total …………………………………….. 80 days.”

 

“Yes, in eighty days!” exclaimed Stuart, who in his excitement

made a false deal. “But that doesn’t take into account bad weather,

contrary winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on.”

 

“All included,” returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play

despite the discussion.

 

“But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails,”

replied Stuart; “suppose they stop the trains, pillage

the luggage-vans, and scalp the passengers!”

 

“All included,” calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the cards,

“Two trumps.”

 

Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on:

“You are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically—”

 

“Practically also, Mr. Stuart.”

 

“I’d like to see you do it in eighty days.”

 

“It depends on you. Shall we go?”

 

“Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds

that such a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible.”

 

“Quite possible, on the contrary,” returned Mr. Fogg.

 

“Well, make it, then!”

 

“The journey round the world in eighty days?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I should like nothing better.”

 

“When?”

 

“At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense.”

 

“It’s absurd!” cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at

the persistency of his friend. “Come, let’s go on with the game.”

 

“Deal over again, then,” said Phileas Fogg. “There’s a false deal.”

 

Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly

put them down again.

 

“Well, Mr. Fogg,” said he, “it shall be so: I will wager

the four thousand on it.”

 

“Calm yourself, my dear Stuart,” said Fallentin. “It’s only a joke.”

 

“When I say I’ll wager,” returned Stuart, “I mean it.” “All right,”

said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he continued:

“I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring’s which

I will willingly risk upon it.”

 

“Twenty thousand pounds!” cried Sullivan. “Twenty thousand pounds,

which you would lose by a single accidental delay!”

 

“The unforeseen does not exist,” quietly replied Phileas Fogg.

 

“But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible

time in which the journey can be made.”

 

“A well-used minimum suffices for everything.”

 

“But, in order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically

from the trains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon

the trains again.”

 

“I will jump—mathematically.”

 

“You are joking.”

 

“A true Englishman doesn’t joke when he is talking about so

serious a thing as a wager,” replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly.

“I will bet twenty thousand pounds against anyone who wishes

that I will make the tour of the world in eighty days or less;

in nineteen hundred and twenty hours, or a hundred and fifteen

thousand two hundred minutes. Do you accept?”

 

“We accept,” replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan,

Flanagan, and Ralph, after consulting each other.

 

“Good,” said Mr. Fogg. “The train leaves for Dover at a

quarter before nine. I will take it.”

 

“This very evening?” asked Stuart.

 

“This very evening,” returned Phileas Fogg. He took out and

consulted a pocket almanac, and added, “As today is Wednesday,

the 2nd of October, I shall be due in London in this very room of

the Reform Club, on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter

before nine p.m.; or else the twenty thousand pounds,

now deposited in my name at Baring’s, will belong to you,

in fact and in right, gentlemen. Here is a cheque for the amount.”

 

A memorandum of the wager was at once drawn up and signed by

the six parties, during which Phileas Fogg preserved a stoical

composure. He certainly did not bet to win, and had only staked

the twenty thousand pounds, half of his fortune, because he

foresaw that he might have to expend the other half to carry out

this difficult, not to say unattainable, project. As for his

antagonists, they seemed much agitated; not so much by the value

of their stake, as because they had some scruples about betting

under conditions so difficult to their friend.

 

The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the

game so that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.

 

“I am quite ready now,” was his tranquil response. “Diamonds are trumps:

be so good as to play, gentlemen.”

Chapter IV

IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ASTOUNDS PASSEPARTOUT, HIS SERVANT

 

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 his duties,

was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the inexactness

of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according to rule,

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 was not 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 ten minutes.”

 

A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout’s round face;

clearly he had not comprehended 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 his hands, and seemed about to collapse,

so overcome was he with stupefied astonishment.

 

“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 head from right to left.

 

“We’ll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag, with two shirts

and three pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you.

We’ll buy our clothes on the way. Bring down my mackintosh

and traveling-cloak, and some stout shoes, though we shall

do little walking. Make haste!”

 

Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out,

mounted to his 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 this a 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 they would

go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris once more.

But surely a gentleman so chary of his steps would stop there; no doubt—

but, then, it was none the less true that he was going 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,

still troubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room,

and descended to Mr. Fogg.

 

Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a red-bound

copy of Bradshaw’s Continental Railway Steam Transit and General Guide,

with its timetables showing the arrival and departure of steamers and railways.

He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slipped into it a goodly roll of

Bank of England notes, which would pass wherever 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 good care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it.”

 

Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds

were in gold, and weighed him down.

 

Master and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked,

and at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly

to Charing Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station

at twenty minutes past eight. Passepartout jumped off the box

and followed his master, who, after paying the cabman,

was about to enter the station, when a poor beggar-woman,

with a child in her arms, her naked feet smeared with mud,

her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a tattered 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,

and handed them to the beggar, saying, “Here, my good woman.

I’m glad that I met you;” and passed on.

 

Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes;

his master’s action touched 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 five friends of the Reform.

 

“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “I’m off, you see; and, if you

will examine my passport when I get back, you will be able

to judge whether I have accomplished 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 quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen.”

 

Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class carriage

at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle screamed,

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 the carpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.

 

Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham,

Passepartout suddenly uttered 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—

at your 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

would create a lively sensation at the West End. The news of the

bet spread through the Reform Club, and afforded an exciting topic

of conversation to its members. From the club it soon got into

the papers throughout England. The boasted “tour of the world”

was talked about, disputed, argued with as much warmth as if the

subject were another Alabama claim. Some took sides with Phileas

Fogg, but the large majority shook their heads and declared

against him; it was absurd, impossible, they declared, that the

tour of the world could be made, except theoretically and on paper,

in this minimum of time, and with the existing means of travelling.

The Times, Standard, Morning Post, and Daily News, and twenty other

highly respectable newspapers scouted Mr. Fogg’s project as madness;

the Daily Telegraph alone hesitatingly supported him. People in general

thought him a lunatic, and blamed his Reform Club friends for having

accepted a wager which betrayed the mental aberration of its proposer.

 

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