Hong Kong was an important British colony on an island at the mouth of the Canton River. The British had taken possession of it after the war with China in 1842.
The English had built a busy city there, with docks, hospitals, warehouses, paved streets, a government house, and even a Gothic cathedral. The place looked almost like a town in England that had somehow been moved to the other side of the world.
Passepartout walked toward Victoria Harbour with his hands in his pockets.
He stared curiously at the strange palanquins and other vehicles moving through the streets. Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans crowded the roads.
“This place reminds me of Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore,” he thought. “The English seem to have left their mark everywhere.”
At the harbour, Passepartout found ships of every kind—English, French, American, and Dutch vessels, along with warships and merchant ships. Chinese and Japanese junks, small boats, and flower boats filled the water.
While passing a barber’s shop, Passepartout noticed several very old Chinese men wearing yellow clothes.
“Why are those old gentlemen dressed in yellow?” he asked.
The barber explained that men who reached the age of eighty were allowed to wear yellow, the color of the emperor.
Passepartout laughed.
“Well, that’s certainly an interesting privilege!”
When he reached the quay where the Carnatic was supposed to depart, he immediately spotted Fix walking up and down.
The detective looked extremely worried.
Passepartout smiled.
“Things aren’t going very well for the gentlemen of the Reform Club, are they?”
Fix had every reason to be frustrated. The arrest warrant from London had still not arrived. It was on its way, but it would take several more days.
Hong Kong was the last place on Mr. Fogg’s route where Fix had any legal authority to arrest him. If Fogg left, Fix might never catch him.
Passepartout walked over cheerfully.
“Well, Monsieur Fix, have you decided to travel with us all the way to America?”
“Yes,” Fix replied through clenched teeth.
“Excellent!” Passepartout laughed. “I knew you couldn’t bear to part with us. Come on. Let’s book your cabin.”
They went into the steamship office and booked four cabins.
As the clerk handed them their tickets, he gave them some unexpected news.
“There’s been a change,” he said. “The Carnatic has finished its repairs. She’ll leave this evening instead of tomorrow morning.”
“That is even better for my master,” Passepartout said. “I’ll go and tell him.”
But Fix stopped him.
He had made up his mind.
He was going to tell Passepartout the truth.
It seemed to be his only chance of keeping Phileas Fogg in Hong Kong for a few more days.
“Come with me for a drink,” Fix said.
“All right.”
They entered a tavern near the quay.
Inside, they found a large, richly decorated room. At the far end stood a huge bed covered with cushions. Several people were lying on it, fast asleep.
Around the room, about thirty customers were drinking beer, gin, brandy, and other strong drinks. Many were smoking long red pipes filled with opium.
Every so often, one of the smokers became so heavily drugged that he collapsed beneath a table. The waiters would pick him up by his head and feet and carry him to the large bed.
Passepartout looked around in surprise.
“What kind of place is this?”
Fix lowered his voice.
“An opium den.”
They had walked into one of the many places where opium was smoked.
Passepartout had no money with him, but he gladly accepted Fix’s invitation.
They ordered two bottles of port.
Passepartout drank enthusiastically while Fix watched him carefully.
They talked about their journey, and Passepartout was particularly cheerful about Fix continuing to America with them.
“It’s going to be quite a trip,” he said.
When the last bottle was empty, Passepartout stood up.
“I must go and tell my master that the Carnatic leaves tonight.”
Fix grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
“What for?”
“I need to have a serious conversation with you.”
“A serious conversation?” Passepartout laughed. “We can talk tomorrow. I don’t have time now.”
“Wait. What I have to say concerns your master.”
Passepartout immediately became serious.
He sat down again.
“What is it?”
Fix leaned closer.
“You’ve already guessed who I am, haven’t you?”
“Of course!” Passepartout said with a grin.
“Then I’m going to tell you everything.”
“Good! Now that I know the truth, go ahead.”
Passepartout laughed.
“And let me tell you something first. Those gentlemen have wasted their money.”
“Wasted their money?” Fix asked.
“You don’t know how much they’ve spent.”
“Of course I do. Twenty thousand pounds.”
“Fifty-five thousand.”
Passepartout’s eyes widened.
“What? Fifty-five thousand pounds?”
He jumped to his feet.
“Then I really must hurry!”
Fix forced him back into his chair.
“Fifty-five thousand pounds. And if I succeed, I receive two thousand pounds.”
He paused.
“If you help me, I’ll give you five hundred.”
“Help you?”
“Yes. Help me keep Mr. Fogg in Hong Kong for two or three days.”
Passepartout stared at him.
“What are you talking about? First those gentlemen follow my master around and question his honesty. Now they want to stop him from completing his journey!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s disgraceful. They might as well rob him themselves and put his money in their own pockets!”
Fix gave him a cold look.
“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do.”
“So it’s a conspiracy!”
Passepartout was becoming more excited as the alcohol affected him.
“A real conspiracy! And by gentlemen, too. Shameful!”
Fix frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“The members of the Reform Club!” Passepartout cried. “You should know that my master is an honest man. When he makes a bet, he plays fair and tries to win honestly.”
“But who do you think I am?”
Passepartout grinned.
“An agent sent by the Reform Club to interfere with my master’s journey.”
Fix stared at him.
“You’ve known that for some time?”
“Of course.”
“And you told Mr. Fogg nothing?”
“Not a word.”
Fix rubbed his forehead.
Passepartout’s mistake had completely changed things.
The servant truly believed Fix worked for the Reform Club. That meant he wasn’t Fogg’s accomplice after all.
Fix thought quickly.
“If he’s innocent, perhaps he’ll help me.”
He leaned toward Passepartout.
“Listen carefully. I’m not an agent of the Reform Club.”
“Bah!”
“I’m a police detective sent from London.”
“You? A detective?”
“Yes.”
Fix pulled out his official commission and placed it before him.
Passepartout stared at the document.
He couldn’t speak.
Fix continued.
“Your master’s journey around the world is only a cover. You and the Reform Club members have been fooled.”
“Why?”
“On September 28, fifty-five thousand pounds were stolen from the Bank of England. The thief was seen, and the police have his description.”
Fix handed him the description.
“It matches Mr. Phileas Fogg.”
Passepartout slammed his fist on the table.
“That’s nonsense! My master is the most honest man I’ve ever met!”
“How do you know?”
Fix’s voice became sharper.
“You’ve only worked for him since he left London. He suddenly began this journey without taking any luggage, yet he carried a huge amount of banknotes. And you still insist he’s innocent?”
“Yes! Yes, I do!”
“Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?”
Passepartout’s face went pale.
He lowered his head and held it in his hands.
Fogg—a thief?
The thought was almost impossible to accept.
This was the same man who had rescued Aouda and treated everyone with generosity and courage.
But Fix had given him facts that were difficult to ignore.
After a long silence, Passepartout finally looked up.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’ve followed Mr. Fogg all the way here,” Fix said. “But the arrest warrant hasn’t arrived yet. I need to keep him in Hong Kong until it does.”
Passepartout shook his head.
“I can’t—”
“I’ll share the two-thousand-pound reward with you.”
“Never!”
Passepartout tried to stand, but his legs gave way and he dropped back into his chair.
“Mr. Fix,” he said weakly, “even if everything you’ve told me is true—even if my master really is the man you’re looking for—I still won’t betray him.”
Fix stared at him.
Passepartout continued.
“I’ve served him. I’ve seen his kindness and generosity with my own eyes. I won’t betray him for all the money in the world.”
He shook his head.
“I come from a village where we don’t do things like that.”
“So you refuse?”
“I refuse.”
Fix sighed.
“Then forget that we ever had this conversation.”
He raised his glass.
“Come. Let’s have another drink.”
“Yes. Let’s drink.”
Passepartout drank again.
The alcohol was already affecting him badly.
Fix watched him carefully.
He needed to separate Passepartout from his master at any cost.
Then he noticed several opium pipes lying on the table.
Fix quietly pushed one toward Passepartout.
Passepartout picked it up without thinking.
He put it between his lips, lit it, and took several deep breaths.
Within moments, the drug began to take effect.
His head grew heavy.
He tried to stay awake, but his eyes closed.
Finally, his head dropped onto the table.
Fix looked at him and smiled.
“At last.”
He stood up.
“Mr. Fogg won’t be told that the Carnatic is leaving tonight. And even if he somehow finds out, he’ll have to leave without this troublesome Frenchman.”
Fix paid the bill and walked out of the tavern.