Ralph[26], one of the Directors of the Bank of England—all rich and highly respectable personages.
“Well, Ralph,” said Thomas Flanagan, “what about that robbery?”
“Oh,” replied Stuart, “the Bank will lose the money.”
“On the contrary,” broke in Ralph, “I hope we may put our hands on the robber. Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports of America and the Continent, and he’ll be a clever fellow if he slips through their fingers.”
“But have you got the robber’s description?” asked Stuart.
“In the first place, he is no robber at all,” returned Ralph, positively.
“What! A fellow who makes off[27] with fifty-five thousand pounds, no robber?”
“No.”
“Perhaps he’s a manufacturer, then.”
“The Daily Telegraph[28] says that he is a gentleman.”
Phileas Fogg bowed to his friends, and entered into the conversation about the affair which had occurred three days before at the Bank of England. A package of banknotes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been taken from the principal cashier’s[29] table, who was engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of course, he could not have his eyes everywhere. Let it be known[30] that the Bank of England has no guards, nor gratings to protect its treasures, showing a touching confidence in the honesty of the public.
As soon as the robbery was discovered, many detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez, Brindisi, New York[31], and other ports, inspired by the proffered reward of two thousand pounds, and five per cent on the sum that might be recovered[32]. Detectives were watching all who arrived at or left London.
As the Daily Telegraph said, the thief did not belong to a professional band. On the day of the robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners[33] was going to and fro[34] in the paying room where the crime was committed. A description of him was easily procured and sent to the detectives. Everywhere people were discussing the probabilities of a successful pursuit; and the Reform Club was especially agitated.
“I maintain,” said Stuart, “that the chances are in favour of the thief, who must be a shrewd fellow.”
“Well, but could he go, then?” asked Ralph. “No country is safe for him.”
“Oh, I don’t know that. The world is big enough.”
“It was once,” said Phileas Fogg, in a low tone, handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan.
“What do you mean by ‘once’? Has the world grown smaller?”
“Certainly,” returned Ralph. “I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world has grown smaller, since a man can now go round it ten times more quickly than a hundred years ago. And that is why the search for this thief will be more likely to succeed.”
“And also why the thief can get away more easily.”
Stuart said eagerly: “So, because you can go round the world in three months—”
“In eighty days,” interrupted Phileas Fogg.
“That is true, gentlemen,” added John Sullivan. “Only eighty days, now that the section between Rothal[35] and Allahabad[36], on the Great Indian Peninsula Railway[37], has been opened. Here is the estimate made by the Daily Telegraph:
“From London to Suez via Mont Cenis[38] and Brindisi, by rail and steamboats, 7 days.
“From Suez to Bombay[39], by steamer, 13 days.
“From Bombay to Calcutta[40], by rail, 3 days.
“From Calcutta to Hong Kong[41], by steamer, 13 days.
“From Hong Kong to Yokohama[42], by steamer, 6 days.
“From Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer, 22 days.
“From San Francisco to New York, by rail, 7 days.
“From New York to London, by steamer and rail, 9 days.
“Total 80 days.”
“Yes, in eighty days!” exclaimed Stuart. “But that doesn’t take into account bad weather, contrary winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on.”
“All included[43],” returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play despite the discussion.
“But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails,” replied Stuart; “suppose they stop the trains, pillage the luggage-vans[44], and scalp the passengers!”
“All included,” calmly retorted Fogg.
“You are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically—”
“Practically also, Mr. Stuart.”
“I’d like to see you do it in eighty days.”
“It depends on you. Shall we go?”
“No! But I would wager four thousand pounds that such a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible.”
“Quite possible, on the contrary,” returned Mr. Fogg.
“Well, make it, then!”
“The journey round the world in eighty days?”
“Yes.”
“I should like nothing better.”
“When?”
“At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense.”
“It’s absurd!” cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at the persistency of his friend. “Come, let’s go on with the game.”
“Deal over again, then,” said Phileas Fogg.
“Well, Mr. Fogg,” said Stuart “it shall be so: I will wager the four thousand on it.”
“Calm yourself, my dear Stuart,” said Fallentin. “It’s only a joke.”
“When I say I’ll wager,” returned Stuart, “I mean it.”
“All right,” said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he continued: “I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring’s[45] which I will willingly risk upon it.”
“Twenty thousand pounds!” cried Sullivan. “Twenty thousand pounds, which you would lose by a single accidental delay!”
“The unforeseen does not exist,” quietly replied Phileas Fogg.
“But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible time in which the journey can be made. In order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically from the trains