ed
him very much. It appeared to him like the pretty shell of a snail;
but a snail's shell lighted and warmed with gas would serve for both
those purposes. He soon discovered the room he was to occupy, and was
quite satisfied. Electric bells and indiarubber speaking-tubes put him
into communication with the rooms, below. Upon the chimney-piece stood
an electric clock, which kept time exactly with that in Phileas Fogg's
bedroom.

"This will suit me exactly," said Passe-partout to himself.

He also remarked in his room a notice fixed above the clock. It was
the programme of his daily duties. It included the whole details of
the service from eight o'clock in the morning, the hour at which Mr.
Fogg invariably arose, to half-past eleven, when he left the house to
breakfast at the Reform Club. It comprised everything--the tea and
toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at
thirty-seven minutes past nine, and his attendance at his master's
toilet at twenty minutes to ten, and so on. Then from half-past eleven
a.m. until midnight, when the methodical Fogg retired to bed,
everything was noted down and arranged for. Passe-partout joyfully set
himself to study the programme and to master its contents.

Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was well stocked and wonderfully arranged. Every
pair of trousers, coat, or waistcoat bore a number, which was also
noted in a register of entries and exits, indicating the date on
which, according to the season, the clothes were to be worn. There
were even relays of shoes and boots.

In fact, in this house in Saville Row, which had been a temple of
disorder in the days of the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan,
cosiness reigned supreme. There was no library and no books, which
would have been useless to Mr. Fogg, since there were two
reading-rooms at the Reform Club. In his bedroom was a small safe,
perfectly burglar and fire proof. There were no firearms nor any other
weapons in the house; everything proclaimed the owner to be a man of
peaceable habits.

After having examined the house thoroughly, Passe-partout rubbed his
hands joyously, a genial smile overspread his rounded face, and he
muttered:

"This suits me completely. It is the very thing. We understand each
other thoroughly, Mr. Fogg and I. He is a thoroughly regular and
domestic man, a true machine. Well, I am not sorry to serve a
machine."

CHAPTER III.

In which a Conversation arises which is likely to cost Phi