pire; and, once accustomed to it, the
victims cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily
contortions and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight
pipes a day; but he dies in five years. It was in one of these dens
that Fix and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found
themselves. Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix's
invitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.

They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample
justice, whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted
about the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea
that Fix was going to continue it with them. When the bottles were
empty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the
time of the sailing of the Carnatic.

Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."

"What for, Mr. Fix?"

"I want to have a serious talk with you."

"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine that
was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk about it
to-morrow; I haven't time now."

"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."

Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion. Fix's face
seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.

"What is it that you have to say?"

Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and, lowering his voice,
said, "You have guessed who I am?"

"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.

"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"

"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good. But go
on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have
put themselves to a useless expense."

"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."

"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."

"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.

"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five
thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an
instant," he continued, getting up hastily.

Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five
thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds. If
you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."

"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.

"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or thre