A Conversation That May Cost Phileas Fogg Dearly

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.

Phileas Fogg shut the door of his house at half past eleven. After putting his right foot before his left 575 times, and his left foot before his right 576 times, he reached the Reform Club. The club was an imposing building on Pall Mall that could not have cost less than three million. He went straight to the dining room. Its nine windows looked out onto a tasteful garden, where the trees were already golden with autumn color. He took his usual table, which had already been set for him. His breakfast consisted of a side dish, broiled fish with Reading sauce, and a scarlet slice of roast beef garnished with mushrooms. He also had a rhubarb and gooseberry tart and a small piece of Cheshire cheese. He washed it all down with several cups of tea, for which the Reform was famous. He rose at thirteen minutes to one and walked to the large hall, a luxurious room decorated with lavishly framed paintings. A servant handed him an uncut Times. Fogg cut its pages with a skill that showed his familiarity with this delicate task. Reading the paper absorbed him until a quarter to four. The Standard, his next task, occupied him until dinner. Dinner passed as breakfast had done. Mr. Fogg returned to the reading room and sat down with the Pall Mall at twenty minutes to six. Half an hour later, several members of the Reform came in and gathered by the fireplace, where a coal fire was burning steadily. They were Mr. Fogg's usual whist partners: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph, a director of the Bank of England. All were rich and highly respectable men, even in a club that included the princes of English trade and finance.

“Well, Ralph,” said Thomas Flanagan, “what about that robbery?”

“Well, Ralph,” said Thomas Flanagan, “what about that robbery?”

“Oh,” replied Stuart, “the Bank will lose the money.”

“Oh,” Stuart replied, “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.”

“On the contrary,” Ralph interrupted, “I hope we can catch the robber. Skilled detectives have been sent to all the major ports in America and continental Europe. He’ll be a clever fellow if he slips through their fingers.”

“But have you got the robber’s description?” asked Stuart.

“But do you have a description of the robber?” asked Stuart.

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

“First of all, he is not a robber at all,” Ralph replied firmly.

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

“What! A man who runs off with fifty-five thousand pounds isn't a robber?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Perhaps he’s a manufacturer, then.”

“Maybe he’s a manufacturer, then.”

“The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman.”

“The Daily Telegraph says 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.

Phileas Fogg made this remark, his head now emerging from behind his newspapers. He bowed to his friends and joined the conversation. They were discussing an incident that had taken place three days earlier at the Bank of England and was the talk of the town. A package of banknotes worth fifty-five thousand pounds had been taken from the chief cashier’s table. At the time, the cashier was recording the receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of course, he could not watch everything at once. It should be noted that the Bank of England places a touching trust in the honesty of the public. There are no guards or bars to protect its treasures. Gold, silver, and banknotes are left in plain sight, at the mercy of whoever comes along. A keen observer of English customs tells of visiting one of the Bank’s rooms one day. There, he decided to examine a gold ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds. He picked it up, inspected it, and passed it to the person next to him. That person passed it to the next, and so on. The ingot went from hand to hand until it reached the end of a dark passage. It did not return to its place for half an hour. Meanwhile, the cashier had not even raised his head. But in the present case, things had not gone so smoothly. The package of notes was still missing when the heavy clock in the “drawing office” struck five. The amount was then entered in the profit and loss account. As soon as the robbery was discovered, specially chosen detectives hurried to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez, Brindisi, New York, and other ports. They were encouraged by the offer of a two-thousand-pound reward, plus five percent of whatever sum they recovered. Detectives were also assigned to watch closely those arriving in or leaving London by train. A judicial investigation began at once.

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.

There were good reasons to think, as the Daily Telegraph said, that the thief did not belong to a professional gang. On the day of the robbery, a well-dressed gentleman had been seen walking back and forth in the payment room where the crime was committed. He had polished manners and appeared wealthy. A description of him was easily obtained and sent to the detectives. Some hopeful people, including Ralph, still believed he might be caught. The newspapers and clubs were full of talk about the robbery. Everywhere, people discussed the chances of catching the thief. The Reform Club was especially stirred up, since several of its members were 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.

Ralph refused to believe the detectives’ work was likely to be in vain. He thought the reward would make them much more eager and active. But Stuart was far less confident, and they continued to argue as they sat down at the whist table. Stuart and Flanagan played together, while Phileas Fogg partnered with Fallentin. As the game went on, the conversation stopped. It resumed between rubbers.

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

“I say the odds favor the thief,” said Stuart. “He must be a clever fellow.”

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

“But where can he escape to?” asked Ralph. “No country is safe for him.”

“Pshaw!”

“Oh, nonsense!”

“Where could he go, then?”

“Where could he go, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know that. The world is big enough.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure. 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.

“It once was,” said Phileas Fogg quietly. “Cut, sir,” he added, handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan.

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

The discussion paused during the rubber of whist. Afterward, Stuart brought it up again.

“What do you mean by ‘once’? Has the world grown smaller?”

“What do you mean by ‘once’? Has the world gotten 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.”

“Certainly,” replied Ralph. “I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world has grown smaller. A man can now travel around it ten times faster than he could a hundred years ago. That is why the search for this thief is more likely to succeed.”

“And also why the thief can get away more easily.”

“And also why the thief can escape more easily.”

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

“Please 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—”

But Stuart was skeptical and remained unconvinced. When the hand was over, he said eagerly: “You have a strange way of proving that the world has grown smaller, Ralph. So, because you can travel around it in three months...”

“In eighty days,” interrupted Phileas Fogg.

“In eighty days,” Phileas Fogg interrupted.

“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:—

“That is true, gentlemen,” added John Sullivan. “It takes only eighty days now that the section between Rothal and Allahabad on the Great Indian Peninsula Railway has opened. Here is the estimate from the Daily Telegraph:

“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.”

“Yes, in eighty days!” exclaimed Stuart, dealing the cards incorrectly in his excitement. “But that doesn’t account for bad weather, headwinds, shipwrecks, train accidents, and so on.”

“All included,” returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play despite the discussion.

“All included,” replied 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!”

“But what if the Hindus or Indians pull up the rails?” Stuart replied. “What if they stop the trains, rob the luggage cars, and scalp the passengers!”

“All included,” calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the cards, “Two trumps.”

“All included,” Fogg replied calmly. As he threw down the cards, he added, “Two trumps.”

Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on: “You are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically—”

It was Stuart’s turn to deal. He gathered them up and continued: “You’re right in theory, Mr. Fogg, but in practice...”

“Practically also, Mr. Stuart.”

“In practice too, Mr. Stuart.”

“I’d like to see you do it in eighty days.”

“I’d like to see you do it in eighty days.”

“It depends on you. Shall we go?”

“It’s up to you. Shall we go?”

“Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds that such a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible.”

“Good heavens! But I would bet four thousand pounds that such a journey is impossible under these conditions.”

“Quite possible, on the contrary,” returned Mr. Fogg.

“On the contrary, it’s quite possible,” replied Mr. Fogg.

“Well, make it, then!”

“Well, make it, then!”

“The journey round the world in eighty days?”

“The trip around the world in eighty days?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“I should like nothing better.”

“I’d love nothing more.”

“When?”

“When?”

“At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense.”

“Right away. But I warn you, I’ll 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.”

“It’s absurd!” cried Stuart, who was starting to get annoyed by his friend’s persistence. “Come on, let’s continue the game.”

“Deal over again, then,” said Phileas Fogg. “There’s a false deal.”

“Deal again, then,” said Phileas Fogg. “The cards were dealt incorrectly.”

Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly put them down again.

Stuart picked up the deck of cards with a trembling hand, then suddenly put it down again.

“Well, Mr. Fogg,” said he, “it shall be so: I will wager the four thousand on it.”

“Well, Mr. Fogg,” he said, “it's settled. I'll bet the four thousand on it.”

“Calm yourself, my dear Stuart,” said Fallentin. “It’s only a joke.”

“Calm down, my dear Stuart,” said Fallentin. “It’s only a joke.”

“When I say I’ll wager,” returned Stuart, “I mean it.”

“When I say I’ll bet,” replied 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.”

“All right,” said Mr. Fogg. He turned to the others and continued: “I have twenty thousand deposited at Baring’s, and I’m willing to risk it on this.”

“Twenty thousand pounds!” cried Sullivan. “Twenty thousand pounds, which you would lose by a single accidental delay!”

“Twenty thousand pounds!” cried Sullivan. “You could lose twenty thousand pounds because of a single accidental delay!”

“The unforeseen does not exist,” quietly replied Phileas Fogg.

“There is no such thing as the unexpected,” Phileas Fogg replied quietly.

“But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible time in which the journey can be made.”

“But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days is only the estimated minimum time needed to make the journey.”

“A well-used minimum suffices for everything.”

“A little is enough for everything if used well.”

“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.”

“But to stay within it, you must time your transfers exactly, from trains to steamships and back to trains.”

“I will jump—mathematically.”

“I will jump, mathematically speaking.”

“You are joking.”

“You’re 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?”

“A true Englishman doesn’t joke about something as serious as a wager,” replied Phileas Fogg solemnly. “I will bet twenty thousand pounds against anyone who wishes to take the bet. I will travel around the world in eighty days or less. That is 1,920 hours, or 115,200 minutes. Do you accept?”

“We accept,” replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan, and Ralph, after consulting each other.

“We accept,” replied Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan, and Ralph, after discussing it among themselves.

“Good,” said Mr. Fogg. “The train leaves for Dover at a quarter before nine. I will take it.”

“Good,” said Mr. Fogg. “The train leaves for Dover at 8:45. I’ll take it.”

“This very evening?” asked Stuart.

“This 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.”

“This very evening,” replied Phileas Fogg. He took out a pocket calendar and checked it. Then he added, “Today is Wednesday, October 2nd. I shall therefore be back in London, in this very room of the Reform Club, on Saturday, December 21st, at 8:45 p.m. Otherwise, gentlemen, the twenty thousand pounds now deposited in my name at Baring’s will be yours, both in fact and by right. 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.

A written record of the wager was immediately drawn up and signed by all six men. Throughout this, Phileas Fogg remained perfectly calm. He certainly had not bet to win. He had staked twenty thousand pounds, half his fortune, only because he foresaw that he might need the other half to carry out the project. The project was difficult, if not impossible. His opponents, on the other hand, seemed very agitated. This was less because of the amount they had wagered than because they had some doubts about betting on terms so difficult for their friend.

The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the game so that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.

The clock struck seven, and the others offered to pause the game so that Mr. Fogg could prepare to leave.

“I am quite ready now,” was his tranquil response. “Diamonds are trumps: be so good as to play, gentlemen.”

“I’m quite ready now,” he replied calmly. “Diamonds are trumps. Please play, gentlemen.”