Around the World in Eighty Days. Junior Deluxe EditionVerne, Jules
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Around the World in Eighty Days. Junior Deluxe Edition
Verne, Jules
Adventure stories; Voyages around the world -- Fiction
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and, lowering his
voice, said, "You have guessed who I am?"
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"
"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good. But
go on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen
have put themselves to a useless expense."
"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand
pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's
hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five
thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for
not losing an instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed:
"Fifty-five thousand pounds, and if I succeed, I get two thousand
pounds. If you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of
them."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide
open.
"Yes, help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
"Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied with
following my master and suspecting his honor, but they must try
to put obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might as
well waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"
"That's just what we count on doing."
"It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more
and more excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank
without perceiving it. "A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too.
Bah!"
Fix began to be puzzled.
"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout. "You must
know, Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that,
when he makes a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"
"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.
"Parbleu! An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out
here to interrupt my master's journey. But, though I found you
out some time ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about it
to Mr. Fogg."
"He knows nothing, then?"
"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass. The
detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before
he spoke again. What should he do? Passepartout's mistake seemed
sincere, but it made his design more difficult. It was evident
that the servant was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been
inclined to suspect.
"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an
accomplice, he will help me."
He had no time to lose. Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong, so he
resolved to make a clean breast of it.
"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think, an
agent of the members of the Reform Club--"
"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.
"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."
"You, a detective?"
"I will prove it. Here is my commission."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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