Jules Verne · a new plain-English translation from the original language
The train had stopped at the station. Passepartout was the first out of the carriage, followed by Mr. Fogg, who helped his young companion step down onto the platform. Phileas Fogg meant to go straight to the Hong Kong steamer, so as to settle Mrs. Aouda comfortably aboard; he did not want to leave her while she remained in a country so dangerous for her.
As Mr. Fogg was on the point of leaving the station, a policeman approached him and said:
"Mr. Phileas Fogg?
—That is I.
—This man is your servant? added the policeman, indicating Passepartout.
—Yes.
—Both of you, kindly come with me."
Mr. Fogg made not a single movement that might have betrayed any surprise in him. This officer was a representative of the law, and to any Englishman the law is sacred. Passepartout, with his French habits, wanted to argue, but the policeman touched him with his staff, and Phileas Fogg signaled to him to obey.
"This young lady may come with us? asked Mr. Fogg.
—She may," replied the policeman.
The policeman led Mr. Fogg, Mrs. Aouda, and Passepartout to a palki-ghari, a kind of four-wheeled, four-seat carriage drawn by two horses. They set off. No one spoke during the drive, which lasted about twenty minutes.
The carriage first crossed the "black town," with its narrow streets lined by hovels in which swarmed a cosmopolitan population, filthy and in rags; then it passed through the European town, brightened by brick houses, shaded by coconut palms, bristling with ships' masts, and already crossed, despite the early hour, by elegant riders and magnificent teams of horses.
The palki-ghari stopped in front of a plain-looking building, but one that was surely not meant for domestic use. The policeman made his prisoners get down—one really could call them that—and led them into a room with barred windows, telling them:
"At half past eight you will appear before Judge Obadiah."
Then he withdrew and shut the door.
"There! we're caught!" cried Passepartout, dropping into a chair.
Mrs. Aouda, at once turning to Mr. Fogg, said to him in a voice whose emotion she tried in vain to disguise:
"Sir, you must give me up! It is because of me that you are being pursued! It is for having rescued me!"
Phileas Fogg merely replied that this was not possible. Prosecuted over that suttee affair! Out of the question! How would the plaintiffs dare come forward? There was some mistake. Mr. Fogg added that, in any case, he would not abandon the young woman, and that he would take her to Hong Kong.
"But the boat leaves at noon! Passepartout pointed out.
—Before noon we shall be aboard," the impassive gentleman replied simply.
This was stated so plainly that Passepartout could not help saying to himself:
"By Jove! it's certain! before noon we shall be aboard!" But he was not reassured in the least.
At half past eight the door of the room opened. The policeman reappeared and brought the prisoners into the adjoining room. It was a courtroom, and a fairly large public, made up of Europeans and natives, already filled the well of the court.
Mr. Fogg, Mrs. Aouda, and Passepartout sat down on a bench facing the seats reserved for the magistrate and the clerk.
That magistrate, Judge Obadiah, came in almost at once, followed by the clerk. He was a fat, perfectly round man. He unhooked a wig hanging from a nail and clapped it briskly on his head.
"The first case," he said.
But, putting his hand to his head:
"Hey! this is not my wig!
—Indeed, Mr. Obadiah, it is mine, replied the clerk.
—My dear Mr. Oysterpuf, how do you expect a judge to hand down a sound sentence in a clerk's wig!"
The wigs were exchanged. During these preliminaries, Passepartout was seething with impatience, for the hand seemed to him to be racing dreadfully fast around the dial of the courtroom's big clock.
"The first case, Judge Obadiah then resumed.
—Phileas Fogg? said Oysterpuf the clerk.
—Here I am, replied Mr. Fogg.
—Passepartout?
—Present! replied Passepartout.
—Good! said Judge Obadiah. For two days now, defendants, you have been watched for at every train from Bombay.
—But what are we accused of? cried Passepartout, out of patience.
—You shall soon know, replied the judge.
—Sir, Mr. Fogg then said, I am an English citizen, and I have the right...
—Have you been treated with disrespect? asked Mr. Obadiah.
—Not at all.
—Good! bring in the plaintiffs."
On the judge's order, a door opened, and three Hindu priests were brought in by an usher.
"That's it! muttered Passepartout, these are the rascals who wanted to burn our young lady!"
The priests stood before the judge, and the clerk read aloud a charge of sacrilege, laid against Mr. Phileas Fogg and his servant, accused of having profaned a place consecrated by the Brahmin religion.
"You have heard? the judge asked Phileas Fogg.
—Yes, sir, replied Mr. Fogg, looking at his watch, and I confess it.
—Ah! you confess?...
—I confess, and I am waiting for these three priests to confess in their turn what they meant to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."
The priests looked at one another. They seemed to understand nothing of the accused man's words.
"Of course! cried Passepartout hotly, at that pagoda of Pillaji, in front of which they were about to burn their victim!"
Fresh amazement from the priests, and deep astonishment from Judge Obadiah.
"What victim? he asked. Burn whom! In the middle of the city of Bombay?
—Bombay? cried Passepartout.
—Of course. This is not about the pagoda of Pillaji, but about the pagoda of Malebar-Hill, in Bombay.
—And as evidence, here are the desecrator's shoes, added the clerk, setting a pair of shoes on his desk.
—My shoes!" cried Passepartout, who, taken utterly by surprise, could not hold back this involuntary exclamation.
One can guess the confusion that had arisen in the minds of master and servant. This incident at the Bombay pagoda they had forgotten, and it was the very thing bringing them before the magistrate of Calcutta.
Indeed, the agent Fix had grasped the whole advantage he could draw from this unfortunate affair. Delaying his departure by twelve hours, he had made himself counsel to the priests of Malebar-Hill; he had promised them substantial damages, knowing full well that the English government was very severe about this kind of offense; then, by the next train, he had sent them on the trail of the sacrilege. But because of the time spent rescuing the young widow, Fix and the Hindus reached Calcutta ahead of Phileas Fogg and his servant, whom the magistrates, warned by telegram, were to arrest as they stepped off the train. One can judge Fix's disappointment when he found out that Phileas Fogg had not yet arrived in the capital of India. He must have thought that his thief, stopping at one of the stations on the Peninsular Railway, had taken refuge in the northern provinces. For twenty-four hours, in mortal anxiety, Fix watched for him at the station. What joy, then, was his when, that very morning, he saw him step off the train—accompanied, it is true, by a young woman whose presence he could not explain. He at once set a policeman on him, and that is how Mr. Fogg, Passepartout, and the widow of the rajah of Bundelkund were brought before Judge Obadiah.
And had Passepartout been less absorbed in his own case, he would have noticed, in a corner of the courtroom, the detective, who followed the proceedings with an interest easy to understand—for at Calcutta, as at Bombay, as at Suez, he still lacked the warrant of arrest!
Meanwhile Judge Obadiah had taken note of the confession that had escaped Passepartout, who would have given all he owned to take back his reckless words.
"The facts are confessed? said the judge.
—Confessed, replied Mr. Fogg coldly.
—Whereas, the judge went on, whereas English law means to protect equally and rigorously all the religions of the peoples of India, the offense being confessed by Mr. Passepartout, convicted of having profaned with a sacrilegious foot the pavement of the pagoda of Malebar-Hill, in Bombay, on the day of the 20th of October, sentences the said Passepartout to fifteen days' imprisonment and a fine of three hundred pounds (7,500 F).
—Three hundred pounds? cried Passepartout, who was really only sensitive about the fine.
—Silence! snapped the usher in a shrill voice.
—And, added Judge Obadiah, whereas it is not materially proven that there is no collusion between servant and master, and that in any case the latter must answer for the acts of a servant in his pay, detains the said Phileas Fogg and sentences him to eight days' imprisonment and a hundred and fifty pounds' fine. Clerk, call another case!"
Fix, in his corner, felt an unspeakable satisfaction. Phileas Fogg held eight days at Calcutta—that was more than enough to give the warrant time to reach him.
Passepartout was thunderstruck. This sentence spelled his master's ruin. Twenty thousand pounds of wager lost, and all because, like a real gawker, he had gone into that accursed pagoda!
Phileas Fogg, as much master of himself as if the sentence had not concerned him, had not even knit his brow. But just as the clerk was calling another case, he rose and said:
"I offer bail.
—That is your right," replied the judge.
Fix felt a chill run down his spine, but he recovered his confidence when he heard the judge, "considering the foreign status of Phileas Fogg and his servant," set bail for each of them at the enormous sum of a thousand pounds (25,000 F).
It would cost Mr. Fogg two thousand pounds if he did not serve his sentence.
"I'll pay," said this gentleman.
And from the bag Passepartout was carrying he drew a packet of banknotes, which he laid on the clerk's desk.
"This sum will be returned to you on your release from prison, said the judge. In the meantime, you are free on bail.
—Come, said Phileas Fogg to his servant.
—But at least let them give back the shoes!" cried Passepartout in a fit of rage.
His shoes were returned to him.
"There's a costly pair! he muttered. More than a thousand pounds each! Not to mention that they pinch!"
Passepartout, utterly crestfallen, followed Mr. Fogg, who had offered his arm to the young woman. Fix still hoped that his thief would never make up his mind to sacrifice this sum of two thousand pounds and would serve his eight days in prison. So he threw himself onto Fogg's trail.
Mr. Fogg took a carriage, into which Mrs. Aouda, Passepartout, and he climbed at once. Fix ran behind the carriage, which soon stopped at one of the city's quays.
Half a mile out in the roadstead, the Rangoon lay at anchor, her departure flag hoisted to the masthead. Eleven o'clock was striking. Mr. Fogg was an hour ahead. Fix saw him get out of the carriage and board a boat with Mrs. Aouda and his servant. The detective stamped his foot on the ground.
"The scoundrel! he cried, he's leaving! Two thousand pounds thrown away! Lavish as a thief! Ah! I'll shadow him to the ends of the earth if I must; but at the rate he's going, all the stolen money will have gone!"
The police inspector had grounds for that reflection. Indeed, since leaving London, what with travel costs and rewards, the purchase of an elephant, bail and fines, Phileas Fogg had already scattered more than five thousand pounds (125,000 F) along his way, and the percentage of the recovered sum awarded to detectives kept dwindling.