CHAPTER XI. In Which Phileas Fogg Secures A Curious Means Of Conveyance At A Fabulous Price
CHAPTER XIII. In Which Passepartout Receives A New Proof That Fortune Favors The Brave
CHAPTER XV. In Which The Bag Of Banknotes Disgorges Some Thousands Of Pounds More
CHAPTER XVI. In Which Fix Does Not Seem To Understand In The Least What Is Said To Him
CHAPTER XVII. Showing What Happened On The Voyage From Singapore To Hong Kong
CHAPTER XVIII. In Which Phileas Fogg, Passepartout, And Fix Go Each About His Business
CHAPTER XIX. In Which Passepartout Takes A Too Great Interest In His Master, And What Comes Of It
CHAPTER XX. In Which Fix Comes Face To Face With Phileas Fogg
CHAPTER XXIII. In Which Passepartout’s Nose Becomes Outrageously Long
CHAPTER XXIV. During Which Mr. Fogg And Party Cross The Pacific Ocean
CHAPTER XXV. In Which A Slight Glimpse Is Had Of San Francisco
CHAPTER XXVI. In Which Phileas Fogg And Party Travel By The Pacific Railroad
CHAPTER XXVIII. In Which Passepartout Does Not Succeed In Making Anybody Listen To Reason
CHAPTER XXX. In Which Phileas Fogg Simply Does His Duty
CHAPTER XXXI. In Which Fix, The Detective, Considerably Furthers The Interests Of Phileas Fogg
CHAPTER XXXII. In Which Phileas Fogg Engages In A Direct Struggle With Bad Fortune
CHAPTER XXXIII. In Which Phileas Fogg Shows Himself Equal To The Occasion
CHAPTER XXXIV. In Which Phileas Fogg At Last Reaches London
CHAPTER XXXV. In Which Phileas Fogg Does Not Have To Repeat His Orders To Passepartout Twice
CHAPTER XXXVI. In Which Phileas Fogg’s Name Is Once More At A Premium On ‘change
CHAPTER I.
In Which Phileas Fogg And Passepartout Accept Each Other, The One As Master, The Other As Man
Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814. He was one of the most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little was known, except that he was a polished man of the world. People said that he resembled Byron—at least that his head was Byronic; but he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without growing old.
Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was a Londoner. He was never seen on ‘Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the counting-rooms of the “City”; no ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln’s Inn, or Gray’s Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen’s Bench, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London Institution, the Artisan’s Association, or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious insects.
Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.
The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple enough.
He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit. His cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current, which was always flush.
Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that he had always done before, that the wits