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CHAPTER 19
In Which Passepartout Takes A Too Great
Interest In His Master, And What Comes Of
It
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.
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.
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.
"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.
"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout,
"have you decided to go with us so far as
America?"
"Yes," returned Fix, through his set
teeth.
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing
heartily. "I knew you could not persuade
yourself to separate from us. Come and engage
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.
"That will suit my master all the better,"
said Passepartout. "I will 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 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.
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.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a
moment."
"What for, Mr. Fix?"
"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."
"Stay! 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.
"What is it that you have to say?"
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm,
and, lowering his voice, said, "You have
guessed who I am?"
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"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."
"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently.
It's clear that you don't know how large the
sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout.
"Twenty thousand pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix,
pressing 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.
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."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes
were standing wide open.
"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 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!"
"That's just what we count on doing."
"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!"
Fix began to be 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!"
"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix,
looking at him intently.
"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."
"He knows nothing, then?"
"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again
emptying his glass.
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.
"Well," said the detective to himself, "as
he is not an accomplice, he will 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.
"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly. "I am
not, as you think, an agent of the members of
the Reform Club--"
"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of
raillery.
"I am a police detective, sent out here by
the London office."
"You, a detective?"
"I will prove it. Here is my
commission."
Passepartout was speechless with
astonishment when Fix displayed this document,
the genuineness of which could not be
doubted.
"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."
"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."
"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout,
striking the table with his fist. "My master is
the most honourable 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!"
"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow,
mechanically.
"Would you like 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.
"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at
last, with an effort.
"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--"
"I! But I--"
"I will share with you the two thousand
pounds reward offered by the Bank of
England."
"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to
rise, 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!"
"You refuse?"
"I refuse."
"Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix;
"and let us drink."
"Yes; let us 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.
"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!"
And, after paying his bill, Fix left the
tavern.
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