Chapter 34
In Which Phileas Fogg at Last Reaches London
Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the CustomHouse, and he was to be transferred to London the next day.
Passepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would have fallenupon Fix 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 thehonest and courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber. The youngwoman's heart revolted against so heinous a charge, and when shesaw that she could attempt to do nothing to save her protector,she wept bitterly.
As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his duty,whether Mr. Fogg was guilty or not.
The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the cause ofthis new misfortune! Had he not concealed Fix's errand from hismaster? When Fix revealed his true character and purpose, why hadhe not told Mr. Fogg? If the latter had been warned, he would nodoubt have given Fix proof of his innocence, and satisfied him ofhis mistake. At least, Fix would not have continued his journeyat the expense and on the heels of his master, only to arrest himthe moment he set foot on English soil. Passepartout wept till hewas blind and felt like blowing his brains out.
Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico ofthe Custom House. Neither wished to leave the place. Both wereanxious to see Mr. Fogg again.
That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when hewas about to attain his end. This arrest was fatal. Havingarrived at Liverpool at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21stof December, he had till a quarter before nine that evening toreach the Reform Club, that is, nine hours and a quarter. Thejourney from Liverpool to London was six hours.
If anyone, at this moment, had entered the Custom House, he wouldhave found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless, calm and without apparentanger, upon a wooden bench. He was not, it is true, resigned, butthis last blow failed to force him into an outward betrayal ofany emotion. Was he being devoured by one of those secret rages,all the more terrible because contained, and which only burstforth, with an irresistible force, at the last moment? No onecould tell. There he sat, calmly waiting--for what? Did he stillcherish hope? Did he still believe, now that the door of thisprison was closed upon him, that he would succeed?
However that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put his watch uponthe table, and observed its advancing hands. Not a word escapedhis lips, but his look was singularly set and stern. Thesituation, in any event, was a terrible one, and might be thusstated: if Phileas Fogg was honest he was ruined; if he was aknave, 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 fromit? Possibly; for once he walked slowly around the room. But thedoor was locked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods. Hesat down again, and drew his journal from his pocket. On the linewhere 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 hiswatch was 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 quarterbefore nine P.M. His forehead slightly wrinkled.
At thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular noiseoutside, then a hasty opening of doors. Passepartout's voice wasaudible, and immediately after that of Fix. Phileas Fogg's eyesbrightened for an instant.
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--a most--unfortunateresemblance--robber arrested three days ago--you--are free!"
Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to the detective, looked himsteadily in the face, and with the only rapid motion he had evermade in his life, or which he ever would make, drew back hisarms, and with the precision of a machine knocked Fix down.
"Well hit!" cried Passepartout. "Parbleu! That's what you mightcall a good application of English fists!"
Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a word. He hadonly received his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda and Passepartout leftthe Custom House without delay, got into a cab, and in a fewmoments descended at the station.
Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leavefor London. It was forty minutes past two. The express train hadleft thirty-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 untilthree o'clock.
At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the engineer by theoffer of a generous reward, at last set out towards London withAouda and his faithful servant.
It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half.This would have been easy on a clear road throughout. But therewere forced delays, and when Mr. Fogg stepped from the train atthe terminus, all the clocks in London were striking ten minutesbefore nine.1
Having made the tour of the world, he was behind time by fiveminutes. He had lost the wager!
1 A somewhat remarkable eccentricity on the part of the Londonclocks? Translator.