The effect of this dispatch was instantaneous. The polished gentleman disappeared to give place to the bank robber. His photograph was minutely examined, and it betrayed, feature by feature, the description of the robber. The mysterious habits of Phileas Fogg were recalled; his solitary ways, his sudden departure; and it seemed clear that he had wanted to elude the detectives.
Chapter VI
The circumstances under which this telegraphic dispatch about Phileas Fogg was sent were as follows. The steamer Mongolia[53], built of iron, of two thousand eight hundred tons burden, and five hundred horse-power, was due at 11 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, 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. One was the British consul at Suez. The other was a small, slight-built personage, with a nervous, intelligent face, and bright eyes. He was just now manifesting 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 watch every passenger who arrived at Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be suspicious characters. The detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining the splendid reward, 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.
“Does it come directly from Brindisi?”
“Directly from Brindisi; it takes on the Indian mail there, and it leaves on Saturday at five p.m. Have patience, Mr. Fix; it 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[54] 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!”
“Mr. Fix,” said the consul, “I hope you’ll succeed; but 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 to remain honest; otherwise they would be arrested. To unmask honest countenances is a difficult task, I admit, but a real art.”
Soon Mongolia appeared between the bank. It brought an unusual number of passengers, some of whom remained on deck to scan the picturesque panorama of the town.
Fix carefully examined each face. Presently one of the passengers came up to him and politely asked if he could point out the English consulate. 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.”
“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.
Chapter VII
The detective passed down the quay, and rapidly made his way to the consul’s office.
“Consul,” said he, without preamble, “I have strong reasons for believing that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia.”
“Well, Mr. Fix,” replied the consul, “I want 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 like to leave traces.”
“If he is as shrewd as I think he is, consul, he will come.”
“To have his passport visaed[55]?”
“Yes. And 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 business. 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. The consul took the document and carefully read it.
“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 the robber whose description I have received?”
“I concede that; but then, you know, all descriptions—”
“I’ll make certain of it[56],” interrupted Fix. “The servant seems to me less mysterious than the master; besides, he’s a Frenchman, and likes to talk. Excuse me, consul.”
Chapter VIII
Fix soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about on the quay.
“Well, my friend,” said the detective, coming up with him, “is your passport visaed?”
“Ah,