Passepartout's Excessive Interest in His Master and Its Consequences

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 colonising 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, macadamised streets, give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.

Hong Kong is an island that came under English control through the Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842. The English talent for colonization has created an important city and an excellent port on the island. Hong Kong lies at the mouth of the Canton River. It is about sixty miles from the Portuguese town of Macao, on the opposite coast. Hong Kong has beaten Macao in the competition for Chinese trade. Most Chinese goods being transported now pass through Hong Kong. Its docks, hospitals, wharves, Gothic cathedral, government house, and paved streets give it the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey, transported by some strange magic to the other side of the world.

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 colour. Passepartout, without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.

Passepartout wandered toward Victoria port with his hands in his pockets. Along the way, he gazed at the curious palanquins and other vehicles. He also watched groups of Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans passing through the streets. Hong Kong reminded him of Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore. Like those cities, it showed signs of English rule everywhere. At Victoria port, he found a jumbled mass of ships from every nation. There were English, French, American, and Dutch warships and trading vessels. There were also Japanese and Chinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats, which looked like floating flower beds. In the crowd, Passepartout noticed several natives who seemed very old and wore yellow. He went into a barber shop for a shave and learned that these old men were all at least eighty. At that age, they were allowed to wear yellow, the Imperial color. Passepartout found this very funny, though he did not quite know why.

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.

When he reached the dock where they were to board the “Carnatic,” he was not surprised to see Fix pacing. The detective seemed very upset 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; and, this being the last English territory on Mr. Fogg’s route, the robber would escape, unless he could manage to detain him.

“This is bad,” muttered Passepartout, “for the gentlemen of the Reform Club!” He approached Fix with a cheerful smile, as if he had not noticed the detective’s frustration. Fix did indeed have good reason to complain about his continuing bad luck. The warrant had not arrived! It was certainly on its way, but it was just as certain that it would not reach Hong Kong for several days. Hong Kong was the last English territory on Mr. Fogg’s route, so the robber would escape unless Fix could manage to detain him.

“Well, Monsieur Fix,” said Passepartout, “have you decided to go with us so far as America?”

“Well, Monsieur Fix,” said Passepartout, “have you decided to come with us all the way to America?”

“Yes,” returned Fix, through his set teeth.

“Yes,” Fix replied through clenched teeth.

“Good!” exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily. “I knew you could not persuade yourself to separate from us. Come and engage your berth.”

“Good!” Passepartout exclaimed, laughing heartily. “I knew you couldn't bring yourself to leave us. Come and book 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.

They entered the steamship office and booked cabins for four people. As the clerk gave them their tickets, he told them that repairs on the “Carnatic” were complete. The steamer would leave that very evening, not the next morning as announced.

“That will suit my master all the better,” said Passepartout. “I will go and let him know.”

“That will work even better for my master,” said Passepartout. “I’ll 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 camp-bed 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 decided to make a bold move. He would tell Passepartout everything. This seemed the only way to keep Phileas Fogg in Hong Kong for several more days. So he invited his companion into a tavern he spotted on the quay. Inside, they found a large, handsomely decorated room. At the far end stood a large camp bed covered with cushions. Several people lay on it, fast asleep. About thirty customers sat at small tables around the room, drinking English beer, porter, gin, and brandy. They smoked long red clay pipes filled with small balls of opium mixed with rose essence. From time to time, a smoker overcome by the drug would slip under a table. The waiters would then lift him by his head and feet and carry him to the bed. Twenty such dazed drunkards already lay there.

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; and, 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.

Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in an opium den, frequented by wretched, gaunt, idiotic creatures. Every year, English merchants sell them 1,400,000 pounds’ worth of the miserable drug called opium. Thousands are devoted to one of the most despicable vices that afflict humanity! The Chinese government has tried in vain to fight the evil with strict laws. At first, opium was reserved exclusively for the rich. Gradually, its use spread to the lower classes, and then its ravages could not be stopped. Men and women smoke opium everywhere and at all times in China, the Celestial Empire. Once they become accustomed to opium, its victims cannot do without it except by suffering terrible bodily contortions and agony. A heavy smoker can smoke as many as eight pipes a day, but dies in five years. Fix and Passepartout had come looking for a friendly drink and found themselves in one of these dens. Passepartout had no money, but he gladly accepted Fix’s invitation, hoping to return the favor someday.

They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample justice, whilst 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.”

They ordered two bottles of port. The Frenchman drank heartily, while Fix watched him closely. They chatted about the journey, and Passepartout was especially cheerful at the thought that Fix would continue the journey with them. But when the bottles were empty, Passepartout got up to tell his master that the sailing time of the “Carnatic” had changed.

Fix caught him by the arm, and said, “Wait a moment.”

Fix grabbed him by the arm and said, “Wait a moment.”

“What for, Mr. Fix?”

“Why, Mr. Fix?”

“I want to have a serious talk with you.”

“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 to-morrow; I haven’t time now.”

“A serious talk!” cried Passepartout, finishing the little wine left in his glass. “Well, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. I don’t have time now.”

“Stay! What I have to say concerns your master.”

“Wait! 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.

At this, Passepartout looked closely at his companion. Fix seemed to have a strange expression on his face. He sat down again.

“What is it that you have to say?”

“What do you have to say?”

Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout’s arm, and, lowering his voice, said, “You have guessed who I am?”

Fix put his hand on Passepartout’s arm and lowered his voice. “Have you guessed who I am?” he asked.

“Parbleu!” said Passepartout, smiling.

“Of course!” said Passepartout, smiling.

“Then I’m going to tell you everything—”

“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.”

“Now 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 wasted their money.”

“Useless!” said Fix. “You speak confidently. It’s clear that you don’t know how large the sum is.”

“Useless!” said Fix. “You sound confident. Clearly, you don’t know how much money is involved.”

“Of course I do,” returned Passepartout. “Twenty thousand pounds.”

“Of course I do,” said Passepartout. “Twenty thousand pounds.”

“Fifty-five thousand!” answered Fix, pressing his companion’s hand.

“Fifty-five thousand!” Fix replied, squeezing 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.

“What!” cried the Frenchman. “Did Monsieur Fogg dare... fifty-five thousand pounds! Well, that’s all the more reason not to waste a moment,” he continued, getting up quickly.

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.”

Fix pushed Passepartout back into his chair and continued: “Fifty-five thousand pounds. If I succeed, I get two thousand pounds. If you help me, I’ll give you five hundred of those pounds.”

“Help you?” cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.

“Help you?” cried Passepartout, his eyes wide open.

“Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days.”

“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 honour, but they must try to put obstacles in his way! I blush for them!”

“What are you saying? Those gentlemen aren’t satisfied with following my master and doubting his honesty. They have to try to put obstacles in his way too! I’m ashamed of them!”

“What do you mean?”

“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!”

“I mean it’s a shameful trick. They might as well ambush Mr. Fogg and steal his money!”

“That’s just what we count on doing.”

“That’s exactly what we plan to do.”

“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!”

“It’s a conspiracy, then,” cried Passepartout. He grew more and more excited as the alcohol went to his head, for he drank without realizing it. “A real conspiracy! And they call themselves gentlemen. Bah!”

Fix began to be puzzled.

Fix began to feel 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!”

“Members of the Reform Club!” Passepartout continued. “You should know, Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man. When he makes a bet, he tries to win it fairly!”

“But who do you think I am?” asked Fix, looking at him intently.

“But who do you think I am?” Fix asked, looking at him closely.

“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.”

“Good grief! You’re an agent sent here by the members of the Reform Club to interrupt my master’s journey. But although I figured you out some time ago, I’ve been careful not to tell Mr. Fogg.”

“He knows nothing, then?”

“So he knows nothing?”

“Nothing,” replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass.

“Nothing,” Passepartout replied, emptying his glass again.

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.

The detective ran his hand across his forehead, hesitating before he spoke again. What should he do? Passepartout’s mistake seemed genuine, but it made Fix’s plan more difficult. Clearly, the servant was not his 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.”

“Well,” the detective said to himself, “since he isn’t an accomplice, he’ll 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.

He had no time to lose. Fogg had to be detained in Hong Kong, so he decided to tell the truth.

“Listen to me,” said Fix abruptly. “I am not, as you think, an agent of the members of the Reform Club—”

“Listen to me,” Fix said abruptly. “I don't work for the members of the Reform Club, as you think I do.”

“Bah!” retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.

“Bah!” Passepartout replied teasingly.

“I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office.”

“I’m a police detective. The London office sent me here.”

“You, a detective?”

“You, a detective?”

“I will prove it. Here is my commission.”

“I’ll prove it. Here is my commission.”

Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed this document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.

Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix showed him the document. There was no doubt that it was genuine.

“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.”

“Mr. Fogg’s wager,” Fix continued, “is only a pretext. You and the gentlemen of the Reform Club have been fooled by it. He had a reason for getting you to help him without knowing what you were doing.”

“But why?”

“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 his description; it answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg.”

“Listen. On September 28 of last year, someone stole fifty-five thousand pounds from the Bank of England. Fortunately, a description of the thief was obtained. Here is the description. It matches Mr. Phileas Fogg exactly.”

“What nonsense!” cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist. “My master is the most honourable of men!”

“What nonsense!” cried Passepartout, slamming his fist on the table. “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!”

“How can you tell? You hardly know anything about him. You started working for him on the day he left. And he left on a foolish pretext, without trunks and carrying a large amount of money in banknotes. Yet you are bold enough to claim he is an honest man!”

“Yes, yes,” repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.

“Yes, yes,” the poor man repeated automatically.

“Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?”

“Do you want 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 essayed to reject the suspicions which forced themselves upon his mind; he did not wish to believe that his master was guilty.

Overcome by what he had heard, Passepartout held his head in his hands. He did not dare look at the detective. Phileas Fogg, the man who had saved Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber! And yet how much evidence pointed against him! Passepartout tried to reject the suspicions that kept forcing their way into his mind. He did not want to believe his master was guilty.

“Well, what do you want of me?” said he, at last, with an effort.

“Well, what do you want from me?” he said at last, with difficulty.

“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—”

“Look,” Fix replied, “I tracked Mr. Fogg here, but I still haven't received the arrest warrant I requested from London. You must help me keep him here in Hong Kong.”

“I! But I—”

“Me! But I...”

“I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the Bank of England.”

“I will share the two thousand pound reward offered by the Bank of England with you.”

“Never!” replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back, exhausted in mind and body.

“Never!” replied Passepartout. He tried to get up, 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!”

“Mr. Fix,” he stammered, “even if what you say is true, I have served my master and still serve him. I deny that he is the robber you’re looking for. But I have seen his generosity and kindness, and I will never betray him, not for all the gold in the world. I come from a village where people don’t do that sort of thing!”

“You refuse?”

“You refuse?”

“I refuse.”

“I refuse.”

“Consider that I’ve said nothing,” said Fix; “and let us drink.”

“Forget I said anything,” said Fix. “Let’s drink.”

“Yes; let us drink!”

“Yes, let’s 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.

Passepartout felt the liquor taking stronger and stronger effect. Fix saw that he had to separate Passepartout from his master at all costs. He wanted to make Passepartout completely helpless. Several pipes filled with opium lay on the table. Fix slipped one into Passepartout’s hand. Passepartout took it, put it between his lips, lit it, and took several puffs. The drug made his head heavy, and it fell onto 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!”

“At last!” said Fix, seeing that Passepartout was unconscious. “Mr. Fogg won’t be told that the ‘Carnatic’ is leaving. And if he is, he’ll have to go without this cursed Frenchman!”

And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.

After paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.