Phileas Fogg left his house at half past eleven and walked to the Reform Club in Pall Mall.
He entered the dining room, where his usual table was already prepared.
His breakfast was simple but excellent: grilled fish with sauce, roast beef with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, Cheshire cheese, and several cups of tea.
At thirteen minutes before one, he finished eating.
He went into the large hall and settled down with the Times. He read it until a quarter before four, then moved on to the Standard.
Dinner followed the same routine as breakfast.
At twenty minutes before six, Fogg returned to the reading room and began reading the Pall Mall.
Half an hour later, several of his usual whist partners joined him near the fireplace.
They were Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, both bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph, a director of the Bank of England.
They were all wealthy and highly respected men.
“Well, Ralph,” said Flanagan, “what do you think about that robbery?”
“Oh,” replied Stuart, “the Bank will simply have to accept the loss.”
“I don’t agree,” said Ralph. “I hope we catch the thief. Some very capable detectives have already been sent to the main ports in America and on the Continent. He’ll have to be extremely clever to escape them.”
“Do they have a description of him?” Stuart asked.
“In the first place,” Ralph replied firmly, “I’m not convinced he’s a professional thief.”
“What? A man steals fifty-five thousand pounds and you say he isn’t a thief?”
“No.”
“Then perhaps he’s some kind of businessman.”
“The Daily Telegraph says he is a gentleman.”
Phileas Fogg lowered his newspaper.
“That’s what I’ve read too,” he said.
He nodded politely to his friends and joined the conversation.
The robbery had taken place three days earlier at the Bank of England, and everyone in London was talking about it.
A package containing banknotes worth fifty-five thousand pounds had disappeared from the chief cashier’s desk.
At the time, the cashier had been busy recording a payment of three shillings and sixpence.
Naturally, he could not watch everything at once.
The Bank of England was famous for its extraordinary trust in the public. There were no guards or metal barriers protecting its wealth. Gold, silver, and banknotes were openly displayed, almost as if anyone could simply walk up and take them.
One visitor had once picked up a gold bar weighing seven or eight pounds, examined it, and handed it to another person. That person passed it to someone else, and soon the gold bar had traveled from hand to hand all the way to the end of a dark corridor.
It stayed there for half an hour.
The cashier never even looked up.
This time, however, the Bank had not been so fortunate.
When the missing banknotes had still not been found by five o’clock, the Bank had to record the fifty-five thousand pounds as a loss.
As soon as the robbery was discovered, experienced detectives were sent to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez, Brindisi, New York, and other ports.
A reward of two thousand pounds had been offered, along with five percent of whatever money they recovered.
Other detectives were ordered to watch everyone entering or leaving London by train.
A formal investigation began immediately.
There was good reason to believe, as the Daily Telegraph had suggested, that the thief was not part of a professional criminal gang.
On the day of the robbery, a well-dressed gentleman with polished manners and the appearance of a wealthy man had been seen walking around the payment room where the crime took place.
The detectives quickly obtained a description of him.
Ralph was one of several people who believed the man would soon be caught.
Newspapers and gentlemen’s clubs were full of the story. Everyone was discussing whether the police would succeed.
The Reform Club was particularly excited because several of its members worked for the Bank.
Ralph had complete confidence in the detectives.
“The reward will make them work twice as hard,” he said. “They’ll catch him.”
Stuart disagreed.
Soon they sat down at the whist table.
Stuart and Flanagan became partners, while Fogg played with Fallentin.
As the cards were dealt, the conversation stopped.
But whenever one game ended, the discussion began again.
“I still say the thief has the advantage,” Stuart insisted. “He must be a very clever man.”
“But where can he go?” Ralph asked. “There’s nowhere in the world where he can be safe.”
“Come now.”
“Where would you send him?”
“I have no idea,” Stuart replied. “The world is big enough.”
“It used to be,” Fogg said quietly.
He handed the cards to Flanagan.
“Cut, please.”
During the game, everyone concentrated on their cards.
When the hand was finished, Stuart returned to the subject.
“What did you mean by ‘used to be’? Has the world become smaller?”
“Certainly,” Ralph replied. “I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world has become smaller because modern transportation allows a man to travel around it ten times faster than people could a hundred years ago.”
“And that means the detectives have a better chance of catching the thief,” Stuart said.
“It also means the thief can escape more quickly,” Fogg pointed out.
“Please play, Mr. Stuart,” Fogg said.
But Stuart was not convinced.
When the hand ended, he leaned forward eagerly.
“You have an interesting way of proving that the world has become smaller, Ralph. So what? A man can travel around the world in three months—”
“Eighty days,” Fogg interrupted.
“That’s right,” said Sullivan. “Only eighty days now that the railway between Rothal and Allahabad in India has been completed.”
He picked up a newspaper.
“The Daily Telegraph has calculated the journey like this.”
“London to Suez, through Mont Cenis and Brindisi, by train and steamer: seven days.”
“Suez to Bombay by steamer: thirteen days.”
“Bombay to Calcutta by train: three days.”
“Calcutta to Hong Kong by steamer: thirteen days.”
“Hong Kong to Yokohama in Japan by steamer: six days.”
“Yokohama to San Francisco by steamer: twenty-two days.”
“San Francisco to New York by train: seven days.”
“New York to London by steamer and train: nine days.”
“That makes a total of eighty days.”
“Yes, eighty days!” Stuart exclaimed.
He was so excited that he dealt the cards incorrectly.
“But that calculation assumes everything goes perfectly,” he said. “What about bad weather, strong winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and all the other things that can happen?”
“All included,” Fogg replied calmly.
“But what if the Indians tear up the railway tracks?” Stuart demanded. “What if they stop the trains, rob the baggage cars, or attack the passengers?”
“All included,” Fogg said.
He laid his cards on the table.
“Two trumps.”
Stuart gathered up the cards. It was his turn to deal.
“You may be right in theory, Mr. Fogg, but in reality—”
“In reality too, Mr. Stuart.”
“I’d like to see you actually do it in eighty days.”
“That depends on you,” Fogg replied. “Shall we go?”
“Heaven preserve me!” Stuart laughed. “But I’ll bet you four thousand pounds that such a journey is impossible.”
“Quite possible,” said Fogg.
“Then do it.”
“Travel around the world in eighty days?”
“Yes.”
“I would like nothing better.”
“When?”
“At once. But I should warn you that the journey will be paid for at your expense.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Stuart shouted.
He was becoming irritated by Fogg’s calm persistence.
“Come on. Let’s finish the game.”
“Deal again,” said Fogg. “There was a mistake.”
Stuart picked up the cards with a nervous hand.
Then he suddenly put them back on the table.
“All right, Mr. Fogg,” he said. “You’ve made your challenge. I’ll bet the four thousand.”
“Calm down, my dear Stuart,” Fallentin said. “It’s only a joke.”
“When I say I’ll bet,” Stuart replied, “I mean it.”
“Very well,” said Fogg.
He turned toward the others.
“I have twenty thousand pounds deposited at Baring’s. I am willing to risk the entire amount.”
“Twenty thousand pounds!” Sullivan exclaimed.
“You would lose twenty thousand pounds because of one unexpected delay!”
“The unexpected does not exist,” Fogg replied calmly.
“But Mr. Fogg, eighty days is only the shortest estimated time in which the journey can be completed.”
“A well-used minimum is enough.”
“But to finish within eighty days, you would have to move directly from trains to steamers and from steamers back to trains.”
“I will do exactly that.”
“You’re joking.”
“A true Englishman does not joke when he is discussing something as serious as a wager,” Fogg said solemnly.
“I will bet twenty thousand pounds against anyone here who accepts the challenge. I will travel around the world in eighty days or less.”
“Eighty days means nineteen hundred and twenty hours,” he continued, “or one hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred minutes.”
“Do you accept?”
The five men looked at one another.
Then Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan, and Ralph all agreed.
“We accept.”
“Excellent,” said Fogg.
He looked at the clock.
“The train for Dover leaves at a quarter before nine. I shall take it.”
“Tonight?” Stuart asked.
“Tonight.”
Fogg took a small pocket almanac from his coat and checked the date.
“Today is Wednesday, October second,” he said.
“If I am not back here at the Reform Club by a quarter before nine on Saturday, December twenty-first, the twenty thousand pounds now deposited in my name at Baring’s will belong to you.”
He took out a cheque.
“Here is the cheque for the amount.”
The six men immediately drew up and signed a written agreement confirming the wager.
Throughout the process, Fogg remained completely calm.
He had not made the bet because he expected an easy victory.
He had deliberately risked twenty thousand pounds—half of his entire fortune—because he knew that he might have to spend the other half simply to complete the journey.
His opponents, meanwhile, were visibly excited.
It was not only the amount of money that disturbed them.
They were also beginning to wonder whether they had gone too far by accepting such an extraordinary challenge from their friend.
The clock struck seven.
The others suggested stopping the game so Fogg could prepare for his journey.
“I am quite ready now,” Fogg replied calmly.
“Diamonds are trumps. Please play, gentlemen.”