Fix was examining carefully all those that landed, when one of them approached him, after having vigorously pushed back the fellahs who overwhelmed him with their offers of service, and asked him very politely if he could show him the office of the English consular agent. And at the same time this passenger presented a passport upon which he doubtless desired to have the British visé. Fix instinctively took the passport, and at a glance read the description in it. An involuntary movement almost escaped him. The sheet trembled in his hand. The description contained in the passport was identical with that which he had received from the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police.
“This passport is not yours?” he said to the passenger.
“No,” replied the latter, “it is my master’s passport.”
“And your master?”
“Remained on board.”
“But,” continued the detective, “he must present himself in person at the Consul office to establish his identity.”
“What, is that necessary?”
“Indispensable.”
“And where is the office?”
“There at the corner of the square,” replied the detective, pointing out a house two hundred paces off.
“Then I must go for my master, who will not be pleased to have his plans deranged!”
Thereupon the passenger bowed to Fix and returned aboard the steamer.
Which shows once more the uselessness of Passports in Police Matters
The detective left the wharf and turned quickly towards the Consul’s office. Immediately upon his pressing demand he was ushered into the presence of that official.
“Consul,” he said, without any other preamble, “I have strong reasons for believing that our man has taken passage aboard the Mongolia, and Fix related what had passed between the servant and himself with reference to the passport.
“Well, Mr Fix,” replied the Consul, “I would not be sorry to see the face of this rogue. But perhaps he will not present himself at my office if he is what you suppose. A robber does not like to leave behind him the tricks of his passage, and besides the formality of passports is no longer obligatory.”
“Consul,” replied the detective, “if he is a shrewd man, as we think, he will come.”
“To have his passport viséd?”
“Yes. Passports never serve but to incommode honest people and to aid the flight of rogues. I warrant you that his will be all regular, but I hope certainly that you will not visé it.”
“And why not? If his passport is regular I have no sight to refuse my visé.”
“But, Consul, I must retain this man until I have received from London a warrant of arrest.”
“Ah, Mr Fix, that is your business,” replied the Consul, “but I—I cannot—”
The Consul did not finish his phrase. At this moment there was a knock at the door of his private office, and the office boy brought in two foreigners, one of whom was the very servant who had been talking with the detective. They were, indeed, the master and servant. The master presented his passport, asking the Consul briefly to be kind enough to visé it. The latter took the passport and read it carefully, while Fix, in one corner of the room, was observing or rather devouring the stranger with his eyes.
When the Consul had finished reading, he asked:
“You are Phileas Fogg, Esq.?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the gentleman.
“And this man is your servant?”
“Yes, a Frenchman named Passepartout.”
“You come from London?”
“Yes.”
“And you are going?”
“To Bombay.”
“Well, sir, you know that this formality of the visé is useless, and that we no longer demand the presentation of the passport?”
“I know it, sir,” replied Phileas Fogg, “but I wish to prove by your visé my trip to Suez.”
“Very well, sir.”
And the Consul having signed and dated the passport, affixed his seal, Mr Fogg settled the fee, and having bowed coldly, he went out, followed by his servant.
“Well?” asked the detective.
“Well,” replied the Consul, “he has the appearance of a perfectly honest man!”
“Possibly,” replied Fix; “but that is not the question with us. Do you find, Consul, that this phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature for feature, the robber whose description I have received?”
“I agree with you, but you know that all descriptions—”
“I shall have a clear conscience about it,” replied Fix.
“The servant appears to me less of a riddle than the master. Moreover, he is a Frenchman, who cannot keep from talking. I will see you soon again, Consul.”
The detective then went out, intent upon the search for Passepartout.
In the meantime Mr Fogg, after leaving the Consul’s house, had gone towards the wharf. There he gave some orders to his servant; then he got into a boat, returned on board the Mongolia, and went into his cabin. He then took out his memorandum book, in which were the following notes:
“Left London, Wednesday, October 2, 8.45 p.m.
“Arrived at Paris, Thursday, October 3, 7.20 a.m.
“Left Paris, Thursday, 8.40 a.m.
“Arrived at Turin, via Mont Cenis, Friday, October 4, 6.35 a.m.
“Left Turin, Friday, 7.27 a.m.
“Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday, October 5, 4 p.m.
“Set sail on the Mongolia, Saturday, 5 p.m.
“Arrived at Suez, Wednesday, October 9, 11 a.m.
“Total of hours consumed, 158 1-2; or in days, 6 1-2 days.”
Mr Fogg wrote down these dates in a guide-book arranged by columns, which indicated, from the 2nd of October to the 21st of December—the month, the day of the month, the day of the week, the stipulated and actual arrivals at each principal point, Paris, Brindisi, Suez, Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong-Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco, New York, Liverpool, London, and which allowed him to figure the gain made or the loss experienced at each place on the route. In this methodical book he thus kept an account of everything, and Mr Fogg knew always whether he was ahead of time or behind.
He noted down then this day, Wednesday, October 9, his arrival at Suez, which agreeing with the stipulated arrival, neither made a gain or a loss. Then he had his breakfast served up in his cabin. As to seeing the town, he did not even think of it, being of that race of Englishmen who have their servants visit the countries they pass through.