“Here
I am,
gentlemen!” |
t
is time to relate what a change took place in English public opinion
when it transpired that the real bankrobber, a certain James Strand, had
been arrested, on the 17th day of December, at Edinburgh. Three days before,
Phileas Fogg had been a criminal, who was being desperately followed up
by the police; now he was an honourable gentleman, mathematically pursuing
his eccentric journey round the world.
The papers
resumed their discussion about the wager; all those who had laid bets,
for or against him, revived their interest, as if by magic; the "Phileas
Fogg bonds" again became negotiable, and many new wagers were made. Phileas
Fogg's name was once more at a premium on 'Change.
His five
friends of the Reform Club passed these three days in a state of feverish
suspense. Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had forgotten, reappear before
their eyes! Where was he at this moment? The 17th of December, the day
of James Strand's arrest, was the seventy-sixth since Phileas Fogg's departure,
and no news of him had been received. Was he dead? Had he abandoned the
effort, or was he continuing his journey along the route agreed upon? And
would he appear on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before
nine in the evening, on the threshold of the Reform Club saloon?
The anxiety
in which, for three days, London society existed, cannot be described.
Telegrams were sent to America and Asia for news of Phileas Fogg. Messengers
were dispatched to the house in Saville Row morning and evening. No news.
The police were ignorant what had become of the detective, Fix, who had
so unfortunately followed up a false scent. Bets increased, nevertheless,
in number and value. Phileas Fogg, like a racehorse, was drawing near his
last turning-point. The bonds were quoted, no longer at a hundred below
par, but at twenty, at ten, and at five; and paralytic old Lord Albemarle
bet even in his favour.
A great
crowd was collected in Pall Mall and the neighbouring streets on Saturday
evening; it seemed like a multitude of brokers permanently established
around the Reform Club. Circulation was impeded, and everywhere disputes,
discussions, and financial transactions were going on. The police had great
difficulty in keeping back the crowd, and as the hour when Phileas Fogg
was due approached, the excitement rose to its highest pitch.
The five
antagonists of Phileas Fogg had met in the great saloon of the club. John
Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, the bankers, Andrew Stuart, the engineer,
Gauthier Ralph, the director of the Bank of England, and Thomas Flanagan,
the brewer, one and all waited anxiously.
When the
clock indicated twenty minutes past eight, Andrew Stuart got up, saying,
"Gentlemen, in twenty minutes the time agreed upon between Mr. Fogg and
ourselves will have expired."
"What
time did the last train arrive from Liverpool?" asked Thomas Flanagan.
"At twenty-three
minutes past seven," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and the next does not arrive
till ten minutes after twelve."
"Well,
gentlemen," resumed Andrew Stuart, "if Phileas Fogg had come in the 7:23
train, he would have got here by this time. We can, therefore, regard the
bet as won."
"Wait;
don't let us be too hasty," replied Samuel Fallentin. "You know that Mr.
Fogg is very eccentric. His punctuality is well known; he never arrives
too soon, or too late; and I should not be surprised if he appeared before
us at the last minute."
"Why,"
said Andrew Stuart nervously, "if I should see him, I should not believe
it was he."
"The fact
is," resumed Thomas Flanagan, "Mr. Fogg's project was absurdly foolish.
Whatever
his punctuality, he could not prevent the delays which were certain to
occur; and a delay of only two or three days would be fatal to his tour."
"Observe,
too," added John Sullivan, "that we have received no intelligence from
him, though there are telegraphic lines all along is route."
"He has
lost, gentleman," said Andrew Stuart, "he has a hundred times lost! You
know, besides, that the China the only steamer he could have taken from
New York to get here in time arrived yesterday. I have seen a list of the
passengers, and the name of Phileas Fogg is not among them. Even if we
admit that fortune has favoured him, he can scarcely have reached America.
I think he will be at least twenty days behind-hand, and that Lord Albemarle
will lose a cool five thousand."
"It is
clear," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and we have nothing to do but to present
Mr. Fogg's cheque at Barings to-morrow."
At this
moment, the hands of the club clock pointed to twenty minutes to nine.
"Five
minutes more," said Andrew Stuart.
The five
gentlemen looked at each other. Their anxiety was becoming intense; but,
not wishing to betray it, they readily assented to Mr. Fallentin's proposal
of a rubber.
"I wouldn't
give up my four thousand of the bet," said Andrew Stuart, as he took his
seat, "for three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine."
The clock
indicated eighteen minutes to nine.
The players
took up their cards, but could not keep their eyes off the clock. Certainly,
however secure they felt, minutes had never seemed so long to them!
"Seventeen
minutes to nine," said Thomas Flanagan, as he cut the cards which Ralph
handed to him.
Then there
was a moment of silence. The great saloon was perfectly quiet; but the
murmurs of the crowd outside were heard, with now and then a shrill cry.
The pendulum beat the seconds, which each player eagerly counted, as he
listened, with mathematical regularity.
"Sixteen
minutes to nine!" said John Sullivan, in a voice which betrayed his emotion.
One minute
more, and the wager would be won. Andrew Stuart and his partners suspended
their game. They left their cards, and counted the seconds.
At the
fortieth second, nothing. At the fiftieth, still nothing.
At the
fifty-fifth, a loud cry was heard in the street, followed by applause,
hurrahs, and some fierce growls.
The players
rose from their seats.
At the
fifty-seventh second the door of the saloon opened; and the pendulum had
not beat the sixtieth second when Phileas Fogg appeared, followed by an
excited crowd who had forced their way through the club doors, and in his
calm voice, said, "Here I am, gentlemen!" |