In Which Passepartout Takes a Too Great Interest in His Master,
and What Comes of It
Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the
English by the Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842; and the
colonizing genius of the English has created upon it an important
city and an excellent port. The island is situated at the mouth
of the Canton River, and is separated by about sixty miles from
the Portuguese town of Macao, on the opposite coast. Hong Kong
has beaten Macao in the struggle for the Chinese trade, and now
the greater part of the transportation of Chinese goods finds its
depot at the former place. Docks, hospitals, wharves, a Gothic
cathedral, a government house, macadamized streets, give to Hong
Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey transferred by
some strange magic to the antipodes.
Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and
other modes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese
and Europeans who passed to and fro in the streets. Hong Kong
seemed to him not unlike Bombay, Calcutta and Singapore, since,
like them, it betrayed everywhere the evidence of English
supremacy. At the Victoria port he found a confused mass of ships
of all nations: English, French, American and Dutch, men-of-war
and trading vessels, Japanese and Chinese junks, sempas, tankas
and flower-boats, which formed so many floating parterres.
Passepartout noticed in the crowd a number of the natives who
seemed very old and were dressed in yellow. On going into a
barber's to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all
at least eighty years old, at which age they are permitted to
wear yellow, which is the Imperial color. Passepartout, without
exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.
On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic,
he was not astonished to find Fix walking up and down. The
detective seemed very much disturbed and disappointed.
"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the
Reform Club!" He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had
not perceived that gentleman's chagrin. The detective had,
indeed, good reasons to inveigh against the bad luck which
pursued him. The warrant had not come! It was certainly on the
way, but as certainly it could not now reach Hong Kong for
several days. This being the last English territory on Mr. Fogg's
route, the robber would escape, unless he could manage to detain
him.
"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go
with us as far as America?"
"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily. "I knew you
could not persuade yourself to separate from us. Come and engage
your berth."
They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four
persons. The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them
that, the repairs on the Carnatic having been completed, the
steamer would leave that very evening, and not next morning, as
had been announced.
"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout. "I
will go and let him know."
Fix now decided to make a bold move. He resolved to tell
Passepartout all. It seemed to be the only possible means of
keeping Phileas Fogg several days longer at Hong Kong. He
accordingly invited his companion into a tavern which caught his
eye on the quay. On entering, they found themselves in a large
room handsomely decorated, at the end of which was a large
campbed furnished with cushions. Several persons lay upon this
bed in a deep sleep. At the small tables which were arranged
about the room some thirty customers were drinking English beer,
porter, gin and brandy; smoking, the while, long red clay pipes
stuffed with little balls of opium mingled with essence of rose.
From time to time one of the smokers, overcome with the
narcotic, would slip under the table, whereupon the waiters,
taking him by the head and feet, carried and laid him upon the
bed. The bed already supported twenty of these stupefied sots.
Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking house
haunted by those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom
the English merchants sell every year the miserable drug called
opium, to the amount of one million four hundred thousand
pounds--thousands devoted to one of the most despicable vices which
afflict humanity! The Chinese government has in vain attempted to
deal with the evil by stringent laws. It passed gradually from
the rich, to whom it was at first exclusively reserved, to the
lower classes, and then its ravages could not be arrested. Opium
is smoked everywhere, at all times, by men and women, in the
Celestial Empire. Once accustomed to it, the victims cannot
dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily contortions
and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight pipes a
day, but he dies in five years. It was in one of these dens that
Fix and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found
themselves. Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted
Fix's invitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some
future time.
They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did
ample justice, while Fix observed him with close attention. They
chatted about the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry
at the idea that Fix was going to continue it with them. When the
bottles were empty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of
the change in the time of the sailing of the Carnatic.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."
"What for, Mr. Fix?"
"I want to have a serious talk with you."
"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine
that was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk about
it tomorrow. I haven't time now."
"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."
Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion. Fix's
face seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.
"What is it that you have to say?"
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and, lowering his
voice, said, "You have guessed who I am?"
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"
"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good. But
go on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen
have put themselves to a useless expense."
"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand
pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's
hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five
thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for
not losing an instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed:
"Fifty-five thousand pounds, and if I succeed, I get two thousand
pounds. If you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of
them."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide
open.
"Yes, help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
"Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied with
following my master and suspecting his honor, but they must try
to put obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might as
well waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"
"That's just what we count on doing."
"It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more
and more excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank
without perceiving it. "A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too.
Bah!"
Fix began to be puzzled.
"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout. "You must
know, Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that,
when he makes a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"
"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.
"Parbleu! An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out
here to interrupt my master's journey. But, though I found you
out some time ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about it
to Mr. Fogg."
"He knows nothing, then?"
"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass. The
detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before
he spoke again. What should he do? Passepartout's mistake seemed
sincere, but it made his design more difficult. It was evident
that the servant was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been
inclined to suspect.
"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an
accomplice, he will help me."
He had no time to lose. Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong, so he
resolved to make a clean breast of it.
"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think, an
agent of the members of the Reform Club--"
"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.
"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."
"You, a detective?"
"I will prove it. Here is my commission."
Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed
this document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.
"Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you
and the gentlemen of the Reform are dupes. He had a motive for
securing your innocent complicity."
"But why?"
"Listen. On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five
thousand pounds was committed at the Bank of England by a person
whose description was fortunately secured. Here is this
description. It answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."
"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his
fist. "My master is the most honorable of men!"
"How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him. You went
into his service the day he came away; and he came away on a
foolish pretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in
banknotes. And yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an
honest man!"
"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.
"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"
Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head
between his hands, and did not dare to look at the detective.
Phileas Fogg, the saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man,
a robber! And yet how many presumptions there were against him!
Passepartout tried to reject the suspicions which forced
themselves upon his mind. He did not wish to believe that his
master was guilty.
"Well, what do you want of me?" he said, at last, with an effort.
"See here," replied Fix, "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place,
but as yet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for
which I sent to London. You must help me to keep him here in Hong
Kong--"
"I! But I--"
"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by
the Bank of England."
"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,
exhausted in mind and body.
"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true--if
my master is really the robber you are seeking for--which I deny--I
have been, am, in his service. I have seen his generosity and
goodness; and I will never betray him--not for all the gold in
the world. I come from a village where they don't eat that kind
of bread!"
"You refuse?"
"I refuse."
"Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix, "and let us drink."
"Yes, let us drink!"
Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects
of the liquor. Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be
separated from his master, wished to entirely overcome him. Some
pipes full of opium lay upon the table. Fix slipped one into
Passepartout's hand. He took it, put it between his lips, lit it,
drew several puffs, and his head, becoming heavy under the
influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table.
"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious. "Mr. Fogg
will not be informed of the Carnatic's departure, and, if he is,
he will have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"
And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.