prompt:
Chapter: It is time to relate what a change took place in English public opinion
when it transpired that the real bankrobber, a certain James Strand,
had been arrested, on the 17th day of December, at Edinburgh.  Three
days before, Phileas Fogg had been a criminal, who was being
desperately followed up by the police; now he was an honourable
gentleman, mathematically pursuing his eccentric journey round the
world.

The papers resumed their discussion about the wager; all those who had
laid bets, for or against him, revived their interest, as if by magic;
the "Phileas Fogg bonds" again became negotiable, and many new wagers
were made.  Phileas Fogg's name was once more at a premium on 'Change.

His five friends of the Reform Club passed these three days in a state
of feverish suspense.  Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had forgotten,
reappear before their eyes!  Where was he at this moment?  The 17th of
December, the day of James Strand's arrest, was the seventy-sixth since
Phileas Fogg's departure, and no news of him had been received.  Was he
dead?  Had he abandoned the effort, or was he continuing his journey
along the route agreed upon?  And would he appear on Saturday, the 21st
of December, at a quarter before nine in the evening, on the threshold
of the Reform Club saloon?

The anxiety in which, for three days, London society existed, cannot be
described.  Telegrams were sent to America and Asia for news of Phileas
Fogg.  Messengers were dispatched to the house in Saville Row morning
and evening.  No news.  The police were ignorant what had become of the
detective, Fix, who had so unfortunately followed up a false scent.
Bets increased, nevertheless, in number and value.  Phileas Fogg, like
a racehorse, was drawing near his last turning-point.  The bonds were
quoted, no longer at a hundred below par, but at twenty, at ten, and at
five; and paralytic old Lord Albemarle bet even in his favour.

A great crowd was collected in Pall Mall and the neighbouring streets
on Saturday evening; it seemed like a multitude of brokers permanently
established around the Reform Club.  Circulation was impeded, and
everywhere disputes, discussions, and financial transactions were going
on.  The police had great difficulty in keeping back the crowd, and as
the hour when Phileas Fogg was due approached, the excitement rose to
its highest pitch.

The five antagonists of Phileas Fogg had met in the great saloon of the
club.  John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, the bankers, Andrew Stuart,
the engineer, Gauthier Ralph, the director of the Bank of England, and
Thomas Flanagan, the brewer, one and all waited anxiously.

When the clock indicated twenty minutes past eight, Andrew Stuart got
up, saying, "Gentlemen, in twenty minutes the time agreed upon between
Mr. Fogg and ourselves will have expired."

"What time did the last train arrive from Liverpool?"  asked Thomas
Flanagan.

"At twenty-three minutes past seven," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and the
next does not arrive till ten minutes after twelve."

"Well, gentlemen," resumed Andrew Stuart, "if Phileas Fogg had come in
the 7:23 train, he would have got here by this time.  We can,
therefore, regard the bet as won."

"Wait; don't let us be too hasty," replied Samuel Fallentin.  "You know
that Mr. Fogg is very eccentric.  His punctuality is well known; he
never arrives too soon, or too late; and I should not be surprised if
he appeared before us at the last minute."

"Why," said Andrew Stuart nervously, "if I should see him, I should not
believe it was he."

"The fact is," resumed Thomas Flanagan, "Mr. Fogg's project was
absurdly foolish.  Whatever his punctuality, he could not prevent the
delays which were certain to occur; and a delay of only two or three
days would be fatal to his tour."

"Observe, too," added John Sullivan, "that we have received no
intelligence from him, though there are telegraphic lines all along his
route."

"He has lost, gentleman," said Andrew Stuart, "he has a hundred times
lost!  You know, besides, that the China the only steamer he could have
taken from New York to get here in time arrived yesterday.  I have seen
a list of the passengers, and the name of Phileas Fogg is not among
them.  Even if we admit that fortune has favoured him, he can scarcely
have reached America.  I think he will be at least twenty days
behind-hand, and that Lord Albemarle will lose a cool five thousand."

"It is clear," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and we have nothing to do but
to present Mr. Fogg's cheque at Barings to-morrow."

At this moment, the hands of the club clock pointed to twenty minutes
to nine.

"Five minutes more," said Andrew Stuart.

The five gentlemen looked at each other.  Their anxiety was becoming
intense; but, not wishing to betray it, they readily assented to Mr.
Fallentin's proposal of a rubber.

"I wouldn't give up my four thousand of the bet," said Andrew Stuart,
as he took his seat, "for three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine."

The clock indicated eighteen minutes to nine.

The players took up their cards, but could not keep their eyes off the
clock.  Certainly, however secure they felt, minutes had never seemed
so long to them!

"Seventeen minutes to nine," said Thomas Flanagan, as he cut the cards
which Ralph handed to him.

Then there was a moment of silence.  The great saloon was perfectly
quiet; but the murmurs of the crowd outside were heard, with now and
then a shrill cry.  The pendulum beat the seconds, which each player
eagerly counted, as he listened, with mathematical regularity.

"Sixteen minutes to nine!" said John Sullivan, in a voice which
betrayed his emotion.

One minute more, and the wager would be won.  Andrew Stuart and his
partners suspended their game.  They left their cards, and counted the
seconds.

At the fortieth second, nothing.  At the fiftieth, still nothing.

At the fifty-fifth, a loud cry was heard in the street, followed by
applause, hurrahs, and some fierce growls.

The players rose from their seats.

At the fifty-seventh second the door of the saloon opened; and the
pendulum had not beat the sixtieth second when Phileas Fogg appeared,
followed by an excited crowd who had forced their way through the club
doors, and in his calm voice, said, "Here I am, gentlemen!"

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: "In which Phileas Fogg's name is once more at a premium on 'Change" The narrator backtracks to public opinion as it had followed Fogg's journey around the world. The real bank robber, James Strand, was caught on December 17, and then, Fogg was once more known as a gentleman, and the betting on his success or failure resumed. All news of Fogg, however, has been lost. Telegrams are sent to America and Asia to find his whereabouts. Would he appear on Saturday, the 21st of December? On Saturday evening crowds are around the Reform Club waiting to see. The five club members are present: John Sullivan, Samuel Fallentin, the bankers; Andrew Stuart, the engineer; Gauthier Ralph, Director of the Bank of England; and Thomas Flanagan, brewer. At twenty past eight, Stuart says they have twenty minutes to go. The last train from Liverpool came in at 7:23, and some declare Fogg has already lost, for he would have been here already. Stuart declares his name was not on the list of passengers on the steamer from New York. Now the clock says twenty to nine. There is a countdown of the last five minutes. Just as the clock ticks off the last second, Fogg walks into the room.


prompt:
Chapter: IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT PHILEAS FOGG GAINED NOTHING BY HIS TOUR
AROUND THE WORLD, UNLESS IT WERE HAPPINESS

Yes; Phileas Fogg in person.

The reader will remember that at five minutes past eight in the
evening--about five and twenty hours after the arrival of the
travellers in London--Passepartout had been sent by his master to
engage the services of the Reverend Samuel Wilson in a certain marriage
ceremony, which was to take place the next day.

Passepartout went on his errand enchanted.  He soon reached the
clergyman's house, but found him not at home.  Passepartout waited a
good twenty minutes, and when he left the reverend gentleman, it was
thirty-five minutes past eight.  But in what a state he was!  With his
hair in disorder, and without his hat, he ran along the street as never
man was seen to run before, overturning passers-by, rushing over the
sidewalk like a waterspout.

In three minutes he was in Saville Row again, and staggered back into
Mr. Fogg's room.

He could not speak.

"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"My master!" gasped Passepartout--"marriage--impossible--"

"Impossible?"

"Impossible--for to-morrow."

"Why so?"

"Because to-morrow--is Sunday!"

"Monday," replied Mr. Fogg.

"No--to-day is Saturday."

"Saturday?  Impossible!"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" cried Passepartout.  "You have made a mistake of
one day!  We arrived twenty-four hours ahead of time; but there are
only ten minutes left!"

Passepartout had seized his master by the collar, and was dragging him
along with irresistible force.

Phileas Fogg, thus kidnapped, without having time to think, left his
house, jumped into a cab, promised a hundred pounds to the cabman, and,
having run over two dogs and overturned five carriages, reached the
Reform Club.

The clock indicated a quarter before nine when he appeared in the great
saloon.

Phileas Fogg had accomplished the journey round the world in eighty
days!

Phileas Fogg had won his wager of twenty thousand pounds!

How was it that a man so exact and fastidious could have made this
error of a day?  How came he to think that he had arrived in London on
Saturday, the twenty-first day of December, when it was really Friday,
the twentieth, the seventy-ninth day only from his departure?

The cause of the error is very simple.

Phileas Fogg had, without suspecting it, gained one day on his journey,
and this merely because he had travelled constantly eastward; he would,
on the contrary, have lost a day had he gone in the opposite direction,
that is, westward.

In journeying eastward he had gone towards the sun, and the days
therefore diminished for him as many times four minutes as he crossed
degrees in this direction.  There are three hundred and sixty degrees
on the circumference of the earth; and these three hundred and sixty
degrees, multiplied by four minutes, gives precisely twenty-four
hours--that is, the day unconsciously gained.  In other words, while
Phileas Fogg, going eastward, saw the sun pass the meridian eighty
times, his friends in London only saw it pass the meridian seventy-nine
times.  This is why they awaited him at the Reform Club on Saturday,
and not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg thought.

And Passepartout's famous family watch, which had always kept London
time, would have betrayed this fact, if it had marked the days as well
as the hours and the minutes!

Phileas Fogg, then, had won the twenty thousand pounds; but, as he had
spent nearly nineteen thousand on the way, the pecuniary gain was
small.  His object was, however, to be victorious, and not to win
money.  He divided the one thousand pounds that remained between
Passepartout and the unfortunate Fix, against whom he cherished no
grudge.  He deducted, however, from Passepartout's share the cost of
the gas which had burned in his room for nineteen hundred and twenty
hours, for the sake of regularity.

That evening, Mr. Fogg, as tranquil and phlegmatic as ever, said to
Aouda: "Is our marriage still agreeable to you?"

"Mr. Fogg," replied she, "it is for me to ask that question.  You were
ruined, but now you are rich again."

"Pardon me, madam; my fortune belongs to you.  If you had not suggested
our marriage, my servant would not have gone to the Reverend Samuel
Wilson's, I should not have been apprised of my error, and--"

"Dear Mr. Fogg!" said the young woman.

"Dear Aouda!" replied Phileas Fogg.

It need not be said that the marriage took place forty-eight hours
after, and that Passepartout, glowing and dazzling, gave the bride
away.  Had he not saved her, and was he not entitled to this honour?

The next day, as soon as it was light, Passepartout rapped vigorously
at his master's door.  Mr. Fogg opened it, and asked, "What's the
matter, Passepartout?"

"What is it, sir?  Why, I've just this instant found out--"

"What?"

"That we might have made the tour of the world in only seventy-eight
days."

"No doubt," returned Mr. Fogg, "by not crossing India.  But if I had
not crossed India, I should not have saved Aouda; she would not have
been my wife, and--"

Mr. Fogg quietly shut the door.

Phileas Fogg had won his wager, and had made his journey around the
world in eighty days.  To do this he had employed every means of
conveyance--steamers, railways, carriages, yachts, trading-vessels,
sledges, elephants.  The eccentric gentleman had throughout displayed
all his marvellous qualities of coolness and exactitude.  But what
then?  What had he really gained by all this trouble?  What had he
brought back from this long and weary journey?

Nothing, say you?  Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who,
strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!

Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: "In which it is shown that Phileas Fogg gained nothing by his tour around the world, unless it were happiness" Passepartout had been sent by Fogg at 5 minutes past 8 p.m. the day after their arrival to engage the clergyman for Fogg's marriage on Monday. The clergyman was not at home, and Passepartout waits until thirty-five past eight to go home, but then, he runs at full speed. He rushes into Fogg's house and gasps that the marriage cannot happen tomorrow, because it will be Sunday. Passepartout informs them that today is Saturday. They arrived 24 hours ahead of time, but now there is only 10 minutes to the real deadline. Fogg jumps into a cab and rushes to the Club. He had gone around the world in 80 days and won the bet! How could he have miscalculated the time? He had actually arrived on Friday, the 20th because he had gained a day traveling eastward, just as he would have lost a day going west. He won the 20,000 pounds, but that was not important to him as he had spent nineteen thousand. He takes the last 1,000 pounds and divides it between Passepartout and Fix, minus the cost of gas left burning in Passepartout's room. Fogg marries Aouda with Passepartout giving the bride away. Passepartout the next day knocks on his master's door with the news that he has found out they could have gone around the world in 78 days. Fogg says he knows, but only if they had not gone through India, and then he would not have found Aouda.


prompt:
Chapter: Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington
Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814.  He was one of the
most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to
avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little
was known, except that he was a polished man of the world.  People said
that he resembled Byron--at least that his head was Byronic; but he was
a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without
growing old.

Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was
a Londoner.  He was never seen on 'Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the
counting-rooms of the "City"; no ships ever came into London docks of
which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been
entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln's
Inn, or Gray's Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of
Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen's Bench, or the
Ecclesiastical Courts.  He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he
a merchant or a gentleman farmer.  His name was strange to the
scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part
in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London
Institution, the Artisan's Association, or the Institution of Arts and
Sciences.  He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies
which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the
Entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious
insects.

Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.

The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple
enough.

He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit.
His cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current,
which was always flush.

Was Phileas Fogg rich?  Undoubtedly.  But those who knew him best could
not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last
person to whom to apply for the information.  He was not lavish, nor,
on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was
needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it
quietly and sometimes anonymously.  He was, in short, the least
communicative of men.  He talked very little, and seemed all the more
mysterious for his taciturn manner.  His daily habits were quite open
to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that
he had always done before, that the wits of the curious were fairly
puzzled.

Had he travelled?  It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world
more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear
to have an intimate acquaintance with it.  He often corrected, with a
few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the
club as to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the true
probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so
often did events justify his predictions.  He must have travelled
everywhere, at least in the spirit.

It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from
London for many years.  Those who were honoured by a better
acquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend
to have ever seen him anywhere else.  His sole pastimes were reading
the papers and playing whist.  He often won at this game, which, as a
silent one, harmonised with his nature; but his winnings never went
into his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities.  Mr. Fogg
played, not to win, but for the sake of playing.  The game was in his
eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless,
unwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes.

Phileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which may
happen to the most honest people; either relatives or near friends,
which is certainly more unusual.  He lived alone in his house in
Saville Row, whither none penetrated.  A single domestic sufficed to
serve him.  He breakfasted and dined at the club, at hours
mathematically fixed, in the same room, at the same table, never taking
his meals with other members, much less bringing a guest with him; and
went home at exactly midnight, only to retire at once to bed.  He never
used the cosy chambers which the Reform provides for its favoured
members.  He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row,
either in sleeping or making his toilet.  When he chose to take a walk
it was with a regular step in the entrance hall with its mosaic
flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome supported by twenty
red porphyry Ionic columns, and illumined by blue painted windows.
When he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club--its
kitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy--aided to crowd his table
with their most succulent stores; he was served by the gravest waiters,
in dress coats, and shoes with swan-skin soles, who proffered the
viands in special porcelain, and on the finest linen; club decanters,
of a lost mould, contained his sherry, his port, and his
cinnamon-spiced claret; while his beverages were refreshingly cooled
with ice, brought at great cost from the American lakes.

If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed that
there is something good in eccentricity.

The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly
comfortable.  The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but
little from the sole domestic, but Phileas Fogg required him to be
almost superhumanly prompt and regular.  On this very 2nd of October he
had dismissed James Forster, because that luckless youth had brought
him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of
eighty-six; and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house
between eleven and half-past.

Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet close
together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his
knees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a
complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds,
the days, the months, and the years.  At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair
to the Reform.

A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where
Phileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant,
appeared.

"The new servant," said he.

A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.

"You are a Frenchman, I believe," asked Phileas Fogg, "and your name is
John?"

"Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the newcomer, "Jean Passepartout,
a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for
going out of one business into another.  I believe I'm honest,
monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades.  I've been an
itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard,
and dance on a rope like Blondin.  Then I got to be a professor of
gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a
sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire.  But I
quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of
domestic life, took service as a valet here in England.  Finding myself
out of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact
and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in
the hope of living with him a tranquil life, and forgetting even the
name of Passepartout."

"Passepartout suits me," responded Mr. Fogg.  "You are well recommended
to me; I hear a good report of you.  You know my conditions?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Good!  What time is it?"

"Twenty-two minutes after eleven," returned Passepartout, drawing an
enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.

"You are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.

"Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible--"

"You are four minutes too slow.  No matter; it's enough to mention the
error.  Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m.,
this Wednesday, 2nd October, you are in my service."

Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head
with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.

Passepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new master
going out.  He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor, James
Forster, departing in his turn.  Passepartout remained alone in the
house in Saville Row.

"Faith," muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, "I've seen people at
Madame Tussaud's as lively as my new master!"

Madame Tussaud's "people," let it be said, are of wax, and are much
visited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them human.

During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been
carefully observing him.  He appeared to be a man about forty years of
age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure; his
hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his
face rather pale, his teeth magnificent.  His countenance possessed in
the highest degree what physiognomists call "repose in action," a
quality of those who act rather than talk.  Calm and phlegmatic, with a
clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composure
which Angelica Kauffmann has so skilfully represented on canvas.  Seen
in the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being
perfectly well-balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer.
Phileas Fogg was, indeed, exactitude personified, and this was betrayed
even in the expression of his very hands and feet; for in men, as well
as in animals, the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.

He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was
economical alike of his steps and his motions.  He never took one step
too many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut; he
made no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to be moved or
agitated.  He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet always
reached his destination at the exact moment.

He lived alone, and, so to speak, outside of every social relation; and
as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction, and
that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.

As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris.  Since he had
abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he
had in vain searched for a master after his own heart.  Passepartout
was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere with a
bold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow,
with a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and
serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the
shoulders of a friend.  His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund,
his figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his
physical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger days.
His brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for, while the ancient sculptors
are said to have known eighteen methods of arranging Minerva's tresses,
Passepartout was familiar with but one of dressing his own: three
strokes of a large-tooth comb completed his toilet.

It would be rash to predict how Passepartout's lively nature would
agree with Mr. Fogg.  It was impossible to tell whether the new servant
would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required;
experience alone could solve the question.  Passepartout had been a
sort of vagrant in his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so
far he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten
English houses.  But he could not take root in any of these; with
chagrin, he found his masters invariably whimsical and irregular,
constantly running about the country, or on the look-out for adventure.
His last master, young Lord Longferry, Member of Parliament, after
passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns, was too often brought home
in the morning on policemen's shoulders.  Passepartout, desirous of
respecting the gentleman whom he served, ventured a mild remonstrance
on such conduct; which, being ill-received, he took his leave.  Hearing
that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life was
one of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed from
home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after.
He presented himself, and was accepted, as has been seen.

At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the
house in Saville Row.  He began its inspection without delay, scouring
it from cellar to garret.  So clean, well-arranged, solemn a mansion
pleased him; it seemed to him like a snail's shell, lighted and warmed
by gas, which sufficed for both these purposes.  When Passepartout
reached the second story he recognised at once the room which he was to
inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it.  Electric bells and
speaking-tubes afforded communication with the lower stories; while on
the mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's
bedchamber, both beating the same second at the same instant.  "That's
good, that'll do," said Passepartout to himself.

He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon
inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house.
It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the
morning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past
eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club--all the details of
service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the
shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at
twenty minutes before ten.  Everything was regulated and foreseen that
was to be done from half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at
which the methodical gentleman retired.

Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste.  Each
pair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of
year and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing;
and the same system was applied to the master's shoes.  In short, the
house in Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder
and unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was cosiness,
comfort, and method idealised.  There was no study, nor were there
books, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for at the
Reform two libraries, one of general literature and the other of law
and politics, were at his service.  A moderate-sized safe stood in his
bedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as burglars; but
Passepartout found neither arms nor hunting weapons anywhere;
everything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits.

Having scrutinised the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands, a
broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, "This is
just what I wanted!  Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I!
What a domestic and regular gentleman!  A real machine; well, I don't
mind serving a machine."

Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven,
and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and
seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and
seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, an imposing edifice in Pall
Mall, which could not have cost less than three millions.  He repaired
at once to the dining-room, the nine windows of which open upon a
tasteful garden, where the trees were already gilded with an autumn
colouring; and took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which
had already been laid for him.  His breakfast consisted of a side-dish,
a broiled fish with Reading sauce, a scarlet slice of roast beef
garnished with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a morsel
of Cheshire cheese, the whole being washed down with several cups of
tea, for which the Reform is famous.  He rose at thirteen minutes to
one, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a sumptuous
apartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings.  A flunkey handed him
an uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut with a skill which betrayed
familiarity with this delicate operation.  The perusal of this paper
absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the Standard,
his next task, occupied him till the dinner hour.  Dinner passed as
breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg re-appeared in the reading-room and
sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six.  Half an hour
later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the
fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning.  They were Mr.
Fogg's usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John
Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and
Gauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England--all rich
and highly respectable personages, even in a club which comprises the
princes of English trade and finance.

"Well, Ralph," said Thomas Flanagan, "what about that robbery?"

"Oh," replied Stuart, "the Bank will lose the money."

"On the contrary," broke in Ralph, "I hope we may put our hands on the
robber.  Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports
of America and the Continent, and he'll be a clever fellow if he slips
through their fingers."

"But have you got the robber's description?" asked Stuart.

"In the first place, he is no robber at all," returned Ralph,
positively.

"What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no
robber?"

"No."

"Perhaps he's a manufacturer, then."

"The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman."

It was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his newspapers,
who made this remark.  He bowed to his friends, and entered into the
conversation.  The affair which formed its subject, and which was town
talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England.  A package
of banknotes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been
taken from the principal cashier's table, that functionary being at the
moment engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and
sixpence.  Of course, he could not have his eyes everywhere.  Let it be
observed that the Bank of England reposes a touching confidence in the
honesty of the public.  There are neither guards nor gratings to
protect its treasures; gold, silver, banknotes are freely exposed, at
the mercy of the first comer.  A keen observer of English customs
relates that, being in one of the rooms of the Bank one day, he had the
curiosity to examine a gold ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds.
He took it up, scrutinised it, passed it to his neighbour, he to the
next man, and so on until the ingot, going from hand to hand, was
transferred to the end of a dark entry; nor did it return to its place
for half an hour.  Meanwhile, the cashier had not so much as raised his
head.  But in the present instance things had not gone so smoothly.
The package of notes not being found when five o'clock sounded from the
ponderous clock in the "drawing office," the amount was passed to the
account of profit and loss.  As soon as the robbery was discovered,
picked detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez,
Brindisi, New York, and other ports, inspired by the proffered reward
of two thousand pounds, and five per cent. on the sum that might be
recovered.  Detectives were also charged with narrowly watching those
who arrived at or left London by rail, and a judicial examination was
at once entered upon.

There were real grounds for supposing, as the Daily Telegraph said,
that the thief did not belong to a professional band.  On the day of
the robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners, and with a
well-to-do air, had been observed going to and fro in the paying room
where the crime was committed.  A description of him was easily
procured and sent to the detectives; and some hopeful spirits, of whom
Ralph was one, did not despair of his apprehension.  The papers and
clubs were full of the affair, and everywhere people were discussing
the probabilities of a successful pursuit; and the Reform Club was
especially agitated, several of its members being Bank officials.

Ralph would not concede that the work of the detectives was likely to
be in vain, for he thought that the prize offered would greatly
stimulate their zeal and activity.  But Stuart was far from sharing
this confidence; and, as they placed themselves at the whist-table,
they continued to argue the matter.  Stuart and Flanagan played
together, while Phileas Fogg had Fallentin for his partner.  As the
game proceeded the conversation ceased, excepting between the rubbers,
when it revived again.

"I maintain," said Stuart, "that the chances are in favour of the
thief, who must be a shrewd fellow."

"Well, but where can he fly to?" asked Ralph.  "No country is safe for
him."

"Pshaw!"

"Where could he go, then?"

"Oh, I don't know that.  The world is big enough."

"It was once," said Phileas Fogg, in a low tone.  "Cut, sir," he added,
handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan.

The discussion fell during the rubber, after which Stuart took up its
thread.

"What do you mean by `once'?  Has the world grown smaller?"

"Certainly," returned Ralph.  "I agree with Mr. Fogg.  The world has
grown smaller, since a man can now go round it ten times more quickly
than a hundred years ago.  And that is why the search for this thief
will be more likely to succeed."

"And also why the thief can get away more easily."

"Be so good as to play, Mr. Stuart," said Phileas Fogg.

But the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, and when the hand was
finished, said eagerly: "You have a strange way, Ralph, of proving that
the world has grown smaller.  So, because you can go round it in three
months--"

"In eighty days," interrupted Phileas Fogg.

"That is true, gentlemen," added John Sullivan.  "Only eighty days, now
that the section between Rothal and Allahabad, on the Great Indian
Peninsula Railway, has been opened.  Here is the estimate made by the
Daily Telegraph:

  From London to Suez via Mont Cenis and
    Brindisi, by rail and steamboats .................  7 days
  From Suez to Bombay, by steamer .................... 13  "
  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."

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."

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.

Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question, for
geography is one of the pet subjects of the English; and the columns
devoted to Phileas Fogg's venture were eagerly devoured by all classes
of readers.  At first some rash individuals, principally of the gentler
sex, espoused his cause, which became still more popular when the
Illustrated London News came out with his portrait, copied from a
photograph in the Reform Club.  A few readers of the Daily Telegraph
even dared to say, "Why not, after all?  Stranger things have come to
pass."

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

Everything, it said, was against the travellers, every obstacle imposed
alike by man and by nature.  A miraculous agreement of the times of
departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary
to his success.  He might, perhaps, reckon on the arrival of trains at
the designated hours, in Europe, where the distances were relatively
moderate; but when he calculated upon crossing India in three days, and
the United States in seven, could he rely beyond misgiving upon
accomplishing his task?  There were accidents to machinery, the
liability of trains to run off the line, collisions, bad weather, the
blocking up by snow--were not all these against Phileas Fogg?  Would he
not find himself, when travelling by steamer in winter, at the mercy of
the winds and fogs?  Is it uncommon for the best ocean steamers to be
two or three days behind time?  But a single delay would suffice to
fatally break the chain of communication; should Phileas Fogg once
miss, 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 the
papers, seriously depressed the advocates of the rash tourist.

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

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

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 a
week after his departure an incident occurred which deprived him of
backers at any price.

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

Suez to London.

Rowan, Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard:

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

Fix, Detective.

The effect of this dispatch was instantaneous.  The polished gentleman
disappeared to give place to the bank robber.  His photograph, which
was hung with those of the rest of the members at the Reform Club, was
minutely examined, and it betrayed, feature by feature, the description
of the robber which had been provided to the police.  The mysterious
habits of Phileas Fogg were recalled; his solitary ways, his sudden
departure; and it seemed clear that, in undertaking a tour round the
world on the pretext of a wager, he had had no other end in view than
to elude the detectives, and throw them off his track.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Mr. Phileas Fogg is a wealthy man living in London. He has a very uninteresting social life aside from being a member of the Reform Club, a private London society for gentlemen. He does not have a wife or children. He speaks very often about the world, seeming to know so much of it, so people assume he has traveled--however, most are fairly certain that he has not left London for many years. Mr. Fogg spends nearly all day, every day at the Reform Club's clubhouse, and has a single servant who attends to him at home. He has recently dismissed one of these servants, and now instead is served by a Frenchman from Paris named Jean Passepartout. Passepartout is looking forward to his new job, but is somewhat wary about his master, surprised by how serious, exact, and deliberate he is in all aspects of his life. Passepartout himself is lively and proud, so it would be interesting to see how his personality meshes with Mr. Fogg's. Nevertheless, he thinks he and his master shall get along and is excited to begin his work. On Passepartout's very first day on the job, Mr. Fogg goes to the Reform Club at half past eleven in the morning, as he always does. He eats breakfast there, and begins to talk to the other club members, notably a man named Ralph. They discuss a robbery that has occurred at the Bank of England, who stole fifty-five thousand pounds. The Daily Telegraph newspaper says that the thief was a gentleman, and likely did not belong to a professional band of robbers. They wonder how far the thief could have gotten, and someone remarks that the world is such a big place that he could have gone anywhere. Mr. Fogg says that the world has become smaller, and Ralph agrees, saying you can get around the entire world much more quickly than you ever could before. Mr. Fogg says you can get around it in eighty days now, and one of the other club members confirms, referring to an estimate made by the Daily Telegraph now that the final section of railway across the Indian continent has been finished. The men remark that the eighty days estimate does not account for weather, shipwrecks, railway accidents, or any other incidents that could delay a person. Mr. Fogg disagrees, and says that these are all included. Stuart, one of the club members, says he would like to see Mr. Fogg do it in eighty days. It becomes a wager; Mr. Fogg bets twenty thousand pounds that he can make it around the world in eighty days or less. The club members cannot believe that he would make such a serious bet, but, sure he will fail and they will win twenty thousand pounds, they agree to it. Mr. Fogg plans to leave that night. Mr. Fogg returns home to tell Passepartout that the two of them will be going around the world. Passepartout is astounded, and also does not think they can make it in eighty days, but is enticed by the prospect of the adventure all the same. They pack only carpetbags, planning to buy clothing as they go. As they leave, though, Passepartout realizes he left the gas heater burning in his room--he cannot delay his master by going back to turn it off, so when they return from their voyage, the money spent from burning it for so long would be deducted from Passepartout's salary. The news of Mr. Fogg's departure spreads rapidly throughout London, and all of the newspapers cover it. People make their own bets on whether or not he will succeed. Suddenly, though, the police commissioner in London receives a telegram accusing Phileas Fogg of being the man who robbed the Bank of England. It seems to make sense, due to Phileas Fogg's solitary nature and his hurry to leave England and go across the world. The commissioner believes it must have been to elude detectives. Chapter V ends on a cliffhanger, and foreshadows major trouble ahead for Mr. Fogg on his journey. It leaves readers wondering whether or not Phileas Fogg really is the bank robber, since the police commissioner's analysis of the accusation seems so logical. This is just the first of many extenuating circumstances that will make an eighty-day trip even harder to accomplish.


prompt:
Chapter: The circumstances under which this telegraphic dispatch about Phileas
Fogg was sent were as follows:

The steamer Mongolia, belonging to the Peninsular and Oriental Company,
built of iron, of two thousand eight hundred tons burden, and five
hundred horse-power, was due at eleven o'clock a.m. on Wednesday, the
9th of October, at Suez.  The Mongolia plied regularly between Brindisi
and Bombay via the Suez Canal, and was one of the fastest steamers
belonging to the company, always making more than ten knots an hour
between Brindisi and Suez, and nine and a half between Suez and Bombay.

Two men were promenading up and down the wharves, among the crowd of
natives and strangers who were sojourning at this once straggling
village--now, thanks to the enterprise of M. Lesseps, a fast-growing
town.  One was the British consul at Suez, who, despite the prophecies
of the English Government, and the unfavourable predictions of
Stephenson, was in the habit of seeing, from his office window, English
ships daily passing to and fro on the great canal, by which the old
roundabout route from England to India by the Cape of Good Hope was
abridged by at least a half.  The other was a small, slight-built
personage, with a nervous, intelligent face, and bright eyes peering
out from under eyebrows which he was incessantly twitching.  He was
just now manifesting unmistakable signs of impatience, nervously pacing
up and down, and unable to stand still for a moment.  This was Fix, one
of the detectives who had been dispatched from England in search of the
bank robber; it was his task to narrowly watch every passenger who
arrived at Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be suspicious
characters, or bore a resemblance to the description of the criminal,
which he had received two days before from the police headquarters at
London.  The detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining
the splendid reward which would be the prize of success, and awaited
with a feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the
steamer Mongolia.

"So you say, consul," asked he for the twentieth time, "that this
steamer is never behind time?"

"No, Mr. Fix," replied the consul.  "She was bespoken yesterday at Port
Said, and the rest of the way is of no account to such a craft.  I
repeat that the Mongolia has been in advance of the time required by
the company's regulations, and gained the prize awarded for excess of
speed."

"Does she come directly from Brindisi?"

"Directly from Brindisi; she takes on the Indian mails there, and she
left there Saturday at five p.m.  Have patience, Mr. Fix; she will not
be late.  But really, I don't see how, from the description you have,
you will be able to recognise your man, even if he is on board the
Mongolia."

"A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, than
recognises them.  You must have a scent for them, and a scent is like a
sixth sense which combines hearing, seeing, and smelling.  I've
arrested more than one of these gentlemen in my time, and, if my thief
is on board, I'll answer for it; he'll not slip through my fingers."

"I hope so, Mr. Fix, for it was a heavy robbery."

"A magnificent robbery, consul; fifty-five thousand pounds!  We don't
often have such windfalls.  Burglars are getting to be so contemptible
nowadays!  A fellow gets hung for a handful of shillings!"

"Mr. Fix," said the consul, "I like your way of talking, and hope
you'll succeed; but I fear you will find it far from easy.  Don't you
see, the description which you have there has a singular resemblance to
an honest man?"

"Consul," remarked the detective, dogmatically, "great robbers always
resemble honest folks.  Fellows who have rascally faces have only one
course to take, and that is to remain honest; otherwise they would be
arrested off-hand.  The artistic thing is, to unmask honest
countenances; it's no light task, I admit, but a real art."

Mr. Fix evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit.

Little by little the scene on the quay became more animated; sailors of
various nations, merchants, ship-brokers, porters, fellahs, bustled to
and fro as if the steamer were immediately expected.  The weather was
clear, and slightly chilly.  The minarets of the town loomed above the
houses in the pale rays of the sun.  A jetty pier, some two thousand
yards along, extended into the roadstead.  A number of fishing-smacks
and coasting boats, some retaining the fantastic fashion of ancient
galleys, were discernible on the Red Sea.

As he passed among the busy crowd, Fix, according to habit, scrutinised
the passers-by with a keen, rapid glance.

It was now half-past ten.

"The steamer doesn't come!" he exclaimed, as the port clock struck.

"She can't be far off now," returned his companion.

"How long will she stop at Suez?"

"Four hours; long enough to get in her coal.  It is thirteen hundred
and ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea, and
she has to take in a fresh coal supply."

"And does she go from Suez directly to Bombay?"

"Without putting in anywhere."

"Good!" said Fix.  "If the robber is on board he will no doubt get off
at Suez, so as to reach the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by some
other route.  He ought to know that he would not be safe an hour in
India, which is English soil."

"Unless," objected the consul, "he is exceptionally shrewd.  An English
criminal, you know, is always better concealed in London than anywhere
else."

This observation furnished the detective food for thought, and
meanwhile the consul went away to his office.  Fix, left alone, was
more impatient than ever, having a presentiment that the robber was on
board the Mongolia.  If he had indeed left London intending to reach
the New World, he would naturally take the route via India, which was
less watched and more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic.
But Fix's reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp
whistles, which announced the arrival of the Mongolia.  The porters and
fellahs rushed down the quay, and a dozen boats pushed off from the
shore to go and meet the steamer.  Soon her gigantic hull appeared
passing along between the banks, and eleven o'clock struck as she
anchored in the road.  She brought an unusual number of passengers,
some of whom remained on deck to scan the picturesque panorama of the
town, while the greater part disembarked in the boats, and landed on
the quay.

Fix took up a position, and carefully examined each face and figure
which made its appearance.  Presently one of the passengers, after
vigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of porters,
came up to him and politely asked if he could point out the English
consulate, at the same time showing a passport which he wished to have
visaed.  Fix instinctively took the passport, and with a rapid glance
read the description of its bearer.  An involuntary motion of surprise
nearly escaped him, for the description in the passport was identical
with that of the bank robber which he had received from Scotland Yard.

"Is this your passport?" asked he.

"No, it's my master's."

"And your master is--"

"He stayed on board."

"But he must go to the consul's in person, so as to establish his
identity."

"Oh, is that necessary?"

"Quite indispensable."

"And where is the consulate?"

"There, on the corner of the square," said Fix, pointing to a house two
hundred steps off.

"I'll go and fetch my master, who won't be much pleased, however, to be
disturbed."

The passenger bowed to Fix, and returned to the steamer.

The detective passed down the quay, and rapidly made his way to the
consul's office, where he was at once admitted to the presence of that
official.

"Consul," said he, without preamble, "I have strong reasons for
believing that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia." And he narrated
what had just passed concerning the passport.

"Well, Mr. Fix," replied the consul, "I shall not be sorry to see the
rascal's face; but perhaps he won't come here--that is, if he is the
person you suppose him to be.  A robber doesn't quite like to leave
traces of his flight behind him; and, besides, he is not obliged to
have his passport countersigned."

"If he is as shrewd as I think he is, consul, he will come."

"To have his passport visaed?"

"Yes.  Passports are only good for annoying honest folks, and aiding in
the flight of rogues.  I assure you it will be quite the thing for him
to do; but I hope you will not visa the passport."

"Why not?  If the passport is genuine I have no right to refuse."

"Still, I must keep this man here until I can get a warrant to arrest
him from London."

"Ah, that's your look-out.  But I cannot--"

The consul did not finish his sentence, for as he spoke a knock was
heard at the door, and two strangers entered, one of whom was the
servant whom Fix had met on the quay.  The other, who was his master,
held out his passport with the request that the consul would do him the
favour to visa it.  The consul took the document and carefully read it,
whilst Fix observed, or rather devoured, the stranger with his eyes
from a corner of the room.

"You are Mr. Phileas Fogg?" said the consul, after reading the passport.

"I am."

"And this man is your servant?"

"He is: a Frenchman, named Passepartout."

"You are from London?"

"Yes."

"And you are going--"

"To Bombay."

"Very good, sir.  You know that a visa is useless, and that no passport
is required?"

"I know it, sir," replied Phileas Fogg; "but I wish to prove, by your
visa, that I came by Suez."

"Very well, sir."

The consul proceeded to sign and date the passport, after which he
added his official seal.  Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee, coldly
bowed, and went out, followed by his servant.

"Well?" queried the detective.

"Well, he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man," replied the
consul.

"Possibly; but that is not the question.  Do you think, consul, that
this phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature by feature, the robber
whose description I have received?"

"I concede that; but then, you know, all descriptions--"

"I'll make certain of it," interrupted Fix.  "The servant seems to me
less mysterious than the master; besides, he's a Frenchman, and can't
help talking.  Excuse me for a little while, consul."

Fix started off in search of Passepartout.

Meanwhile Mr. Fogg, after leaving the consulate, repaired to the quay,
gave some orders to Passepartout, went off to the    Mongolia in a
boat, and descended to his cabin.  He took up his note-book, which
contained the following memoranda:

"Left London, Wednesday, October 2nd, at 8.45 p.m.  "Reached Paris,
Thursday, October 3rd, at 7.20 a.m.  "Left Paris, Thursday, at 8.40
a.m.  "Reached Turin by Mont Cenis, Friday, October 4th, at 6.35 a.m.
"Left Turin, Friday, at 7.20 a.m.  "Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday,
October 5th, at 4 p.m.  "Sailed on the Mongolia, Saturday, at 5 p.m.
"Reached Suez, Wednesday, October 9th, at 11 a.m.  "Total of hours
spent, 158+; or, in days, six days and a half."

These dates were inscribed in an itinerary divided into columns,
indicating the month, the day of the month, and the day for the
stipulated and actual arrivals at each principal point Paris, Brindisi,
Suez, Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco,
New York, and London--from the 2nd of October to the 21st of December;
and giving a space for setting down the gain made or the loss suffered
on arrival at each locality.  This methodical record thus contained an
account of everything needed, and Mr. Fogg always knew whether he was
behind-hand or in advance of his time.  On this Friday, October 9th, he
noted his arrival at Suez, and observed that he had as yet neither
gained nor lost.  He sat down quietly to breakfast in his cabin, never
once thinking of inspecting the town, being one of those Englishmen who
are wont to see foreign countries through the eyes of their domestics.

Fix soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about on
the quay, as if he did not feel that he, at least, was obliged not to
see anything.

"Well, my friend," said the detective, coming up with him, "is your
passport visaed?"

"Ah, it's you, is it, monsieur?" responded Passepartout.  "Thanks, yes,
the passport is all right."

"And you are looking about you?"

"Yes; but we travel so fast that I seem to be journeying in a dream.
So this is Suez?"

"Yes."

"In Egypt?"

"Certainly, in Egypt."

"And in Africa?"

"In Africa."

"In Africa!" repeated Passepartout.  "Just think, monsieur, I had no
idea that we should go farther than Paris; and all that I saw of Paris
was between twenty minutes past seven and twenty minutes before nine in
the morning, between the Northern and the Lyons stations, through the
windows of a car, and in a driving rain!  How I regret not having seen
once more Pere la Chaise and the circus in the Champs Elysees!"

"You are in a great hurry, then?"

"I am not, but my master is.  By the way, I must buy some shoes and
shirts.  We came away without trunks, only with a carpet-bag."

"I will show you an excellent shop for getting what you want."

"Really, monsieur, you are very kind."

And they walked off together, Passepartout chatting volubly as they
went along.

"Above all," said he; "don't let me lose the steamer."

"You have plenty of time; it's only twelve o'clock."

Passepartout pulled out his big watch.  "Twelve!" he exclaimed; "why,
it's only eight minutes before ten."

"Your watch is slow."

"My watch?  A family watch, monsieur, which has come down from my
great-grandfather!  It doesn't vary five minutes in the year.  It's a
perfect chronometer, look you."

"I see how it is," said Fix.  "You have kept London time, which is two
hours behind that of Suez.  You ought to regulate your watch at noon in
each country."

"I regulate my watch?  Never!"

"Well, then, it will not agree with the sun."

"So much the worse for the sun, monsieur.  The sun will be wrong, then!"

And the worthy fellow returned the watch to its fob with a defiant
gesture.  After a few minutes silence, Fix resumed: "You left London
hastily, then?"

"I rather think so!  Last Friday at eight o'clock in the evening,
Monsieur Fogg came home from his club, and three-quarters of an hour
afterwards we were off."

"But where is your master going?"

"Always straight ahead.  He is going round the world."

"Round the world?" cried Fix.

"Yes, and in eighty days!  He says it is on a wager; but, between us, I
don't believe a word of it.  That wouldn't be common sense.  There's
something else in the wind."

"Ah!  Mr. Fogg is a character, is he?"

"I should say he was."

"Is he rich?"

"No doubt, for he is carrying an enormous sum in brand new banknotes
with him.  And he doesn't spare the money on the way, either: he has
offered a large reward to the engineer of the Mongolia if he gets us to
Bombay well in advance of time."

"And you have known your master a long time?"

"Why, no; I entered his service the very day we left London."

The effect of these replies upon the already suspicious and excited
detective may be imagined.  The hasty departure from London soon after
the robbery; the large sum carried by Mr. Fogg; his eagerness to reach
distant countries; the pretext of an eccentric and foolhardy bet--all
confirmed Fix in his theory.  He continued to pump poor Passepartout,
and learned that he really knew little or nothing of his master, who
lived a solitary existence in London, was said to be rich, though no
one knew whence came his riches, and was mysterious and impenetrable in
his affairs and habits.  Fix felt sure that Phileas Fogg would not land
at Suez, but was really going on to Bombay.

"Is Bombay far from here?" asked Passepartout.

"Pretty far.  It is a ten days' voyage by sea."

"And in what country is Bombay?"

"India."

"In Asia?"

"Certainly."

"The deuce!  I was going to tell you there's one thing that worries
me--my burner!"

"What burner?"

"My gas-burner, which I forgot to turn off, and which is at this moment
burning at my expense.  I have calculated, monsieur, that I lose two
shillings every four and twenty hours, exactly sixpence more than I
earn; and you will understand that the longer our journey--"

Did Fix pay any attention to Passepartout's trouble about the gas?  It
is not probable.  He was not listening, but was cogitating a project.
Passepartout and he had now reached the shop, where Fix left his
companion to make his purchases, after recommending him not to miss the
steamer, and hurried back to the consulate.  Now that he was fully
convinced, Fix had quite recovered his equanimity.

"Consul," said he, "I have no longer any doubt.  I have spotted my man.
He passes himself off as an odd stick who is going round the world in
eighty days."

"Then he's a sharp fellow," returned the consul, "and counts on
returning to London after putting the police of the two countries off
his track."

"We'll see about that," replied Fix.

"But are you not mistaken?"

"I am not mistaken."

"Why was this robber so anxious to prove, by the visa, that he had
passed through Suez?"

"Why?  I have no idea; but listen to me."

He reported in a few words the most important parts of his conversation
with Passepartout.

"In short," said the consul, "appearances are wholly against this man.
And what are you going to do?"

"Send a dispatch to London for a warrant of arrest to be dispatched
instantly to Bombay, take passage on board the Mongolia, follow my
rogue to India, and there, on English ground, arrest him politely, with
my warrant in my hand, and my hand on his shoulder."

Having uttered these words with a cool, careless air, the detective
took leave of the consul, and repaired to the telegraph office, whence
he sent the dispatch which we have seen to the London police office.  A
quarter of an hour later found Fix, with a small bag in his hand,
proceeding on board the Mongolia; and, ere many moments longer, the
noble steamer rode out at full steam upon the waters of the Red Sea.

The distance between Suez and Aden is precisely thirteen hundred and
ten miles, and the regulations of the company allow the steamers one
hundred and thirty-eight hours in which to traverse it.  The Mongolia,
thanks to the vigorous exertions of the engineer, seemed likely, so
rapid was her speed, to reach her destination considerably within that
time.  The greater part of the passengers from Brindisi were bound for
India some for Bombay, others for Calcutta by way of Bombay, the
nearest route thither, now that a railway crosses the Indian peninsula.
Among the passengers was a number of officials and military officers of
various grades, the latter being either attached to the regular British
forces or commanding the Sepoy troops, and receiving high salaries ever
since the central government has assumed the powers of the East India
Company: for the sub-lieutenants get 280 pounds, brigadiers, 2,400
pounds, and generals of divisions, 4,000 pounds.  What with the
military men, a number of rich young Englishmen on their travels, and
the hospitable efforts of the purser, the time passed quickly on the
Mongolia.  The best of fare was spread upon the cabin tables at
breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the eight o'clock supper, and the ladies
scrupulously changed their toilets twice a day; and the hours were
whirled away, when the sea was tranquil, with music, dancing, and games.

But the Red Sea is full of caprice, and often boisterous, like most
long and narrow gulfs.  When the wind came from the African or Asian
coast the Mongolia, with her long hull, rolled fearfully.  Then the
ladies speedily disappeared below; the pianos were silent; singing and
dancing suddenly ceased.  Yet the good ship ploughed straight on,
unretarded by wind or wave, towards the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb.  What
was Phileas Fogg doing all this time?  It might be thought that, in his
anxiety, he would be constantly watching the changes of the wind, the
disorderly raging of the billows--every chance, in short, which might
force the Mongolia to slacken her speed, and thus interrupt his
journey.  But, if he thought of these possibilities, he did not betray
the fact by any outward sign.

Always the same impassible member of the Reform Club, whom no incident
could surprise, as unvarying as the ship's chronometers, and seldom
having the curiosity even to go upon the deck, he passed through the
memorable scenes of the Red Sea with cold indifference; did not care to
recognise the historic towns and villages which, along its borders,
raised their picturesque outlines against the sky; and betrayed no fear
of the dangers of the Arabic Gulf, which the old historians always
spoke of with horror, and upon which the ancient navigators never
ventured without propitiating the gods by ample sacrifices.  How did
this eccentric personage pass his time on the Mongolia?  He made his
four hearty meals every day, regardless of the most persistent rolling
and pitching on the part of the steamer; and he played whist
indefatigably, for he had found partners as enthusiastic in the game as
himself.  A tax-collector, on the way to his post at Goa; the Rev.
Decimus Smith, returning to his parish at Bombay; and a
brigadier-general of the English army, who was about to rejoin his
brigade at Benares, made up the party, and, with Mr. Fogg, played whist
by the hour together in absorbing silence.

As for Passepartout, he, too, had escaped sea-sickness, and took his
meals conscientiously in the forward cabin.  He rather enjoyed the
voyage, for he was well fed and well lodged, took a great interest in
the scenes through which they were passing, and consoled himself with
the delusion that his master's whim would end at Bombay.  He was
pleased, on the day after leaving Suez, to find on deck the obliging
person with whom he had walked and chatted on the quays.

"If I am not mistaken," said he, approaching this person, with his most
amiable smile, "you are the gentleman who so kindly volunteered to
guide me at Suez?"

"Ah!  I quite recognise you.  You are the servant of the strange
Englishman--"

"Just so, monsieur--"

"Fix."

"Monsieur Fix," resumed Passepartout, "I'm charmed to find you on
board.  Where are you bound?"

"Like you, to Bombay."

"That's capital!  Have you made this trip before?"

"Several times.  I am one of the agents of the Peninsular Company."

"Then you know India?"

"Why yes," replied Fix, who spoke cautiously.

"A curious place, this India?"

"Oh, very curious.  Mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas,
tigers, snakes, elephants!  I hope you will have ample time to see the
sights."

"I hope so, Monsieur Fix.  You see, a man of sound sense ought not to
spend his life jumping from a steamer upon a railway train, and from a
railway train upon a steamer again, pretending to make the tour of the
world in eighty days!  No; all these gymnastics, you may be sure, will
cease at Bombay."

"And Mr. Fogg is getting on well?" asked Fix, in the most natural tone
in the world.

"Quite well, and I too.  I eat like a famished ogre; it's the sea air."

"But I never see your master on deck."

"Never; he hasn't the least curiosity."

"Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this pretended tour in eighty days
may conceal some secret errand--perhaps a diplomatic mission?"

"Faith, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it, nor would I
give half a crown to find out."

After this meeting, Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of chatting
together, the latter making it a point to gain the worthy man's
confidence.  He frequently offered him a glass of whiskey or pale ale
in the steamer bar-room, which Passepartout never failed to accept with
graceful alacrity, mentally pronouncing Fix the best of good fellows.

Meanwhile the Mongolia was pushing forward rapidly; on the 13th, Mocha,
surrounded by its ruined walls whereon date-trees were growing, was
sighted, and on the mountains beyond were espied vast coffee-fields.
Passepartout was ravished to behold this celebrated place, and thought
that, with its circular walls and dismantled fort, it looked like an
immense coffee-cup and saucer. The following night they passed through
the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, which means in Arabic The Bridge of Tears,
and the next day they put in at Steamer Point, north-west of Aden
harbour, to take in coal.  This matter of fuelling steamers is a
serious one at such distances from the coal-mines; it costs the
Peninsular Company some eight hundred thousand pounds a year.  In these
distant seas, coal is worth three or four pounds sterling a ton.

The Mongolia had still sixteen hundred and fifty miles to traverse
before reaching Bombay, and was obliged to remain four hours at Steamer
Point to coal up.  But this delay, as it was foreseen, did not affect
Phileas Fogg's programme; besides, the Mongolia, instead of reaching
Aden on the morning of the 15th, when she was due, arrived there on the
evening of the 14th, a gain of fifteen hours.

Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden to have the passport again
visaed; Fix, unobserved, followed them.  The visa procured, Mr. Fogg
returned on board to resume his former habits; while Passepartout,
according to custom, sauntered about among the mixed population of
Somalis, Banyans, Parsees, Jews, Arabs, and Europeans who comprise the
twenty-five thousand inhabitants of Aden.  He gazed with wonder upon
the fortifications which make this place the Gibraltar of the Indian
Ocean, and the vast cisterns where the English engineers were still at
work, two thousand years after the engineers of Solomon.

"Very curious, very curious," said Passepartout to himself, on
returning to the steamer.  "I see that it is by no means useless to
travel, if a man wants to see something new."  At six p.m.  the
Mongolia slowly moved out of the roadstead, and was soon once more on
the Indian Ocean.  She had a hundred and sixty-eight hours in which to
reach Bombay, and the sea was favourable, the wind being in the
north-west, and all sails aiding the engine.  The steamer rolled but
little, the ladies, in fresh toilets, reappeared on deck, and the
singing and dancing were resumed.  The trip was being accomplished most
successfully, and Passepartout was enchanted with the congenial
companion which chance had secured him in the person of the delightful
Fix.  On Sunday, October 20th, towards noon, they came in sight of the
Indian coast: two hours later the pilot came on board.  A range of
hills lay against the sky in the horizon, and soon the rows of palms
which adorn Bombay came distinctly into view.  The steamer entered the
road formed by the islands in the bay, and at half-past four she hauled
up at the quays of Bombay.

Phileas Fogg was in the act of finishing the thirty-third rubber of the
voyage, and his partner and himself having, by a bold stroke, captured
all thirteen of the tricks, concluded this fine campaign with a
brilliant victory.

The Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd; she arrived on the 20th.
This was a gain to Phileas Fogg of two days since his departure from
London, and he calmly entered the fact in the itinerary, in the column
of gains.

Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its base
in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embraces
fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequally
a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls.  The British
Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion of
this vast country, and has a governor-general stationed at Calcutta,
governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant-governor
at Agra.

But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred
thousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to one
hundred and ten millions of inhabitants.  A considerable portion of
India is still free from British authority; and there are certain
ferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent.  The
celebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756, when the
English first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the city
of Madras, down to the time of the great Sepoy insurrection.  It
gradually annexed province after province, purchasing them of the
native chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor-general
and his subordinates, civil and military.  But the East India Company
has now passed away, leaving the British possessions in India directly
under the control of the Crown.  The aspect of the country, as well as
the manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.

Formerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbrous methods
of going on foot or on horseback, in palanquins or unwieldy coaches;
now fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges, and a great
railway, with branch lines joining the main line at many points on its
route, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in three days.
This railway does not run in a direct line across India.  The distance
between Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is only from one
thousand to eleven hundred miles; but the deflections of the road
increase this distance by more than a third.

The general route of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway is as follows:
Leaving Bombay, it passes through Salcette, crossing to the continent
opposite Tannah, goes over the chain of the Western Ghauts, runs thence
north-east as far as Burhampoor, skirts the nearly independent
territory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, turns thence eastwardly,
meeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs from the river a little,
and, descending south-eastward by Burdivan and the French town of
Chandernagor, has its terminus at Calcutta.

The passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half-past four p.m.; at
exactly eight the train would start for Calcutta.

Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners, left the
steamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him to
be at the station promptly at eight, and, with his regular step, which
beat to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his steps to
the passport office.  As for the wonders of Bombay--its famous city
hall, its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques,
synagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on Malabar
Hill, with its two polygonal towers--he cared not a straw to see them.
He would not deign to examine even the masterpieces of Elephanta, or
the mysterious hypogea, concealed south-east from the docks, or those
fine remains of Buddhist architecture, the Kanherian grottoes of the
island of Salcette.

Having transacted his business at the passport office, Phileas Fogg
repaired quietly to the railway station, where he ordered dinner.
Among the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommended
a certain giblet of "native rabbit," on which he prided himself.

Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its spiced sauce,
found it far from palatable.  He rang for the landlord, and, on his
appearance, said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, "Is this rabbit, sir?"

"Yes, my lord," the rogue boldly replied, "rabbit from the jungles."

"And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?"

"Mew, my lord!  What, a rabbit mew!  I swear to you--"

"Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember this: cats were
formerly considered, in India, as sacred animals.  That was a good
time."

"For the cats, my lord?"

"Perhaps for the travellers as well!"

After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner.  Fix had gone on
shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the
headquarters of the Bombay police.  He made himself known as a London
detective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs
relative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant had
arrived from London.  It had not reached the office; indeed, there had
not yet been time for it to arrive.  Fix was sorely disappointed, and
tried to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay
police.  This the director refused, as the matter concerned the London
office, which alone could legally deliver the warrant.  Fix did not
insist, and was fain to resign himself to await the arrival of the
important document; but he was determined not to lose sight of the
mysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay.  He did not doubt for
a moment, any more than Passepartout, that Phileas Fogg would remain
there, at least until it was time for the warrant to arrive.

Passepartout, however, had no sooner heard his master's orders on
leaving the Mongolia than he saw at once that they were to leave Bombay
as they had done Suez and Paris, and that the journey would be extended
at least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place.  He began
to ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in
good earnest, and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him,
despite his love of repose, around the world in eighty days!

Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took a
leisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of many
nationalities--Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, Banyas with round
turbans, Sindes with square bonnets, Parsees with black mitres, and
long-robed Armenians--were collected.  It happened to be the day of a
Parsee festival.  These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster--the most
thrifty, civilised, intelligent, and austere of the East Indians, among
whom are counted the richest native merchants of Bombay--were
celebrating a sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows,
in the midst of which Indian dancing-girls, clothed in rose-coloured
gauze, looped up with gold and silver, danced airily, but with perfect
modesty, to the sound of viols and the clanging of tambourines.  It is
needless to say that Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with
staring eyes and gaping mouth, and that his countenance was that of the
greenest booby imaginable.

Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew him
unconsciously farther off than he intended to go.  At last, having seen
the Parsee carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his steps
towards the station, when he happened to espy the splendid pagoda on
Malabar Hill, and was seized with an irresistible desire to see its
interior.  He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to Christians to
enter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go in
without first leaving their shoes outside the door.  It may be said
here that the wise policy of the British Government severely punishes a
disregard of the practices of the native religions.

Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist,
and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin ornamentation
which everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found himself
sprawling on the sacred flagging.  He looked up to behold three enraged
priests, who forthwith fell upon him; tore off his shoes, and began to
beat him with loud, savage exclamations.  The agile Frenchman was soon
upon his feet again, and lost no time in knocking down two of his
long-gowned adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application of
his toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs could
carry him, he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowd
in the streets.

At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and
having in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed
breathlessly into the station.

Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he was
really going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform.  He had
resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and farther, if
necessary.  Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in an
obscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words
to Mr. Fogg.

"I hope that this will not happen again," said Phileas Fogg coldly, as
he got into the train.  Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen, followed
his master without a word.  Fix was on the point of entering another
carriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.

"No, I'll stay," muttered he.  "An offence has been committed on Indian
soil.  I've got my man."

Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed out
into the darkness of the night.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: A detective named Mr. Fix waits at the port of the Suez Canal in Egypt as chapter VI begins. He has been dispatched to catch the bank robber , and he is sure that he will be a passenger on the Mongolia, a steamer that has come across the Mediterranean to Suez and will continue on to India. Fix believes the robber might be trying to get to America using the long route, but hopes he will be able to get a warrant for his arrest when they reach India, since India is British territory. The steamer Mongolia arrives in Suez and a servant comes off, attempting to bring his master's passport to the consul. Fix tells him his master must show his face in person, and when Passepartout disappears to fetch Fogg, Fix goes in to the consul's office to tell him that he is fairly certain the bank robber is on board the Mongolia. Fogg comes into the consul's office requesting that his passport be stamped with a visa, since part of the bet was that he would get visas in every place he went to prove that he really did travel around the world. It took Fogg and Passepartout six and a half days to make it across Europe to Suez by rain to Italy and by steamer to Egypt, so they are right on schedule. He keeps a record of the time in a notebook so that he will always know whether he has gained or lost time. Meanwhile, Fix goes to talk to Passepartout, who mentions that his master is in the great hurry and that he did not expect they would actually come this far. Fix notices that Passepartout has kept his watch on London time, and is thus two hours behind local time; however, Passepartout adamantly refuses to change it. He goes on to reveal a little too much information about his master to Fix, telling him that Fogg is going around the world on a bet and that he is rich, carrying around a large sum of money with him. He says Fogg has offered the engineer of the Mongolia a lot of money if he gets them to Bombay, India ahead of time. All of this, to Fix, highly suggests that Fogg is indeed the robber. He tells the consul to send a dispatch to London to get a warrant for Fogg's arrest as soon as they reach Bombay. At first, it seems like the Mongolia will make it to her destination well ahead of time, but the seas become rougher as the wind begins to blow hard. Phileas Fogg, however, does not appear anxious at all. Instead, he calmly eats four large meals a day and plays the card game whist with some other passengers. Passepartout is also greatly enjoying the voyage, and on the second day he is pleased to see that Fix, the man he befriended at the port, is on board as well . They make small talk for a bit, but eventually Fix asks if Passepartout knows of any secret underlying reason why Fogg would embark on such a round-the-world trip. Passepartout denies knowing anything about such a thing. As the days go by Fix makes it a point to talk often to Passepartout to gain his confidence, and Passepartout has no knowledge of Fix's true identity or underlying motivations. The Mongolia arrives in Bombay two full days ahead of schedule. Though Britain occupies much of India, a large population of the subcontinent towards the interior is still free from British rule, and is somewhat ferocious, at that. The center of the country has been changing fast, though, with railroads being built across it. Fogg and Passepartout will take this train across India to Calcutta, where they will catch a steamer ship to Hong Kong. Fix is disappointed that a warrant for Fogg's arrest has not yet arrived from London. He resigns himself not to let Fogg escape his sight. Passepartout spends the few hours before the train leaves wandering the streets of Bombay, determined to see some of the sights before they leave too quickly to take them in. He goes farther than he intends to and encounters a beautiful pagoda on a hill, and does not realize first, that Christians are forbidden to enter, and second, that it is a crime to enter it with shoes on. He goes into the temple to admire it, but soon finds himself assaulted by angry priests. They tear off his shoes and begin to fight him, and he narrowly escapes with enough time to get to the train station. He breathlessly explains to Mr. Fogg what happened, which Fix, standing nearby, overhears. Before this, he was about to get on the train with them. Now, though, after hearing what Passepartout has done, he comes up with another plan to catch them, and chooses to remain in Bombay. Chapter VI introduces the primary antagonist for the very first time. While some stories may not have a physical antagonist--the conflict may be something other than man vs. man--in this case, it is very easy to distinguish Detective Fix as the character most obviously working against Fogg.