In Which Fix, the Detective, Betrays a Very Natural Impatience
The circumstances under which this telegraphic despatch 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 horsepower, 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
unfavorable 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 cut by at
least a half. The other was a small, slight-built person, 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 despatched 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," he asked for the twentieth time, "that this
steamer is never behind time?"
"No, Mr. Fix," replied the consul. "She was signaled 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 recognize your man,
even if he is on board the Mongolia."
"A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, than
recognizes 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 offhand. 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,
scrutinized 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 hank robber which he had received from
Scotland Yard.
"Is this your passport?" he asked.
"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.