菲克斯侦探沉不住气了
以下是关于菲利亚·福格的那封电报发出的背景：
十月九日星期三，隶属于半岛东方航运公司的“蒙古号”轮船预计上午十一点抵达苏伊士。这艘铁壳船载重两千八百吨，马力五百匹，定期往返于布林迪西和孟买之间，途经苏伊士运河，是该公司最快的轮船之一——在布林迪西至苏伊士航段时速常超过十海里，在苏伊士至孟买航段也能达到九点五海里。
此刻，码头上挤满了本地人和异乡客——这个曾经零散的小村庄，如今在德·雷赛布先生的经营下，已变成一座迅速发展的城镇。两个人在人群中来回踱步。一位是英国驻苏伊士领事，尽管英国政府曾预言不利，斯蒂芬森也唱过反调，他却习惯从办公室窗口看见英国船只每日穿梭于这条大运河——这条运河将昔日绕行好望角的英印航线缩短了至少一半。另一位身材瘦小，面容机警，锐利的眼神在不停抽搐的眉毛下闪烁。此刻他正显露出明显的不耐烦，焦躁地来回踱步，片刻也停不下来。此人正是菲克斯，英国派来追捕银行窃贼的侦探之一；他的任务是严密监视每位抵达苏伊士的旅客，跟踪所有形迹可疑的人，或与两天前伦敦警局发来的罪犯特征描述相符的人。这名侦探显然心怀希望，若能成功破案，就能获得丰厚的奖赏；他正带着不难理解的焦躁，急切等待着“蒙古号”的抵达。
“领事先生，”他第二十次问道，“您说这艘船从不晚点？”
“不会的，菲克斯先生，”领事回答，“昨天已经收到它在塞得港的消息，这样的快船，剩下的路程根本不在话下。我再说一遍，‘蒙古号’一向比公司章程规定的时间提前到达，还赢得过超速奖金呢。”
“它直接从布林迪西来吗？”
“直接从布林迪西来；在那里接上印度邮件，上周六下午五点离港。耐心点，菲克斯先生；它不会迟到的。不过说真的，就算您要找的人真在‘蒙古号’上，光凭您手里那份描述，恐怕也未必能认出来吧。”
“领事先生，”侦探用不容置疑的口吻说，“对这种人，与其说是辨认，不如说是感觉。你得有嗅觉，这种嗅觉就像第六感，集听觉、视觉和嗅觉于一身。我这辈子抓过不少这类人物，只要我的贼在船上，我敢担保——他逃不出我的手掌心。”
“但愿如此，菲克斯先生，毕竟这是一桩大劫案。”
“前所未有的大劫案，领事先生——五万五千英镑！这样的好事可不常遇到。如今的窃贼真是越来越不中用了！偷几个先令就得被绞死！”
“菲克斯先生，”领事说，“我很欣赏您的说话方式，希望您能成功；但我担心这事并不容易。您看，您手里的描述，跟一个正派人实在太像了，难道不觉得吗？”
“领事先生，”侦探口气强硬地说，“大盗总是像正派人。那些长着一副贼眉鼠眼的人只有一条路可走——老老实实做人，否则伸手就会被捕。真正的本事，在于揭开那些正派面孔的伪装；我承认，这绝非易事，但这是真正的艺术。”
菲克斯显然不无几分自负。
码头上渐渐热闹起来；各国水手、商人、航运经纪人、搬运工、苦力穿梭往来，仿佛轮船即将抵达。天气晴朗，略带凉意。小镇的清真寺尖塔在淡淡的阳光中高耸于房屋之上。一座长约两千码的栈桥延伸至锚地。红海上可看见许多渔船和沿岸航行的船只，有些还保留着古代帆船的奇特造型。
菲克斯在拥挤的人群中穿行，按照他的习惯，用敏锐而急促的目光审视着每个路人。
此刻已是十点半。
“船还没来！”港务钟敲响时，他嚷道。
“它现在应该不远了，”同伴应道。
“它在苏伊士停多久？”
“四个小时，够加煤的。从苏伊士到红海另一端的亚丁有一千三百一十海里，它得补充新煤。”
“那它从苏伊士直接开往孟买吗？”
“中途不停靠。”
“好！”菲克斯说，“如果窃贼在船上，他准会在苏伊士下船，好走别的路线前往荷兰或法国在亚洲的殖民地。他应该知道，在印度——这块英国地盘上——他连一个小时都待不安稳。”
“除非，”领事提出异议，“他格外狡猾。您知道，英国罪犯待在伦敦，总比任何地方都安全。”
这番话让侦探陷入了沉思，与此同时，领事返回了办公室。独自留下的菲克斯更加焦躁不安，他有一种预感：那个窃贼就在“蒙古号”上。如果他确实离开伦敦打算前往新大陆，自然会取道印度——这条路线监管不那么严，也比大西洋路线更难监视。但菲克斯的思绪很快被一阵尖锐的汽笛声打断，这宣告了“蒙古号”的抵达。搬运工和苦力们冲向码头，十几艘小艇离岸迎向轮船。很快，它那巨大的船体出现在两岸之间，十一点整时在锚地抛锚。船上乘客异乎寻常地多，有些人留在甲板上观赏小镇如画的景致，但更多人乘小艇登岸，踏上了码头。
菲克斯占据有利位置，仔细审视每一张面孔、每一个身影。这时，一位乘客奋力推开纠缠不休的搬运工，走到他面前，彬彬有礼地询问英国领事馆的位置，同时递上一本需要签证的护照。菲克斯下意识地接过护照，飞快地扫了一眼上面关于持有人的描述。他几乎抑制不住惊讶——护照上的描述，竟然与苏格兰场发来的银行窃贼特征完全吻合。
“这是您的护照吗？”他问道。
“不，是我主人的。”
“您的主人……”
“他还在船上。”
“但他必须亲自去领事馆，以便核实身份。”
“哦，非得这样吗？”
“绝对必要。”
“领事馆在哪儿？”
“就在那儿，广场拐角，”菲克斯指着两百步外的一栋房子说。
“我去叫我的主人。不过他被人打扰，恐怕不会太高兴。”
这位乘客向菲克斯鞠躬致意，然后返回了轮船。
IN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, BETRAYS A VERY NATURAL IMPATIENCE
The circumstances under which this telegraphic dispatch about Phileas
Fogg was sent were as follows:
The steamer “Mongolia,” belonging to the Peninsular and Oriental
Company, built of iron, of two thousand eight hundred tons burden, and
five hundred horse-power, was due at eleven o’clock a.m. on Wednesday,
the 9th of October, at Suez. The “Mongolia” plied regularly between
Brindisi and Bombay _viâ_ the Suez Canal, and was one of the fastest
steamers belonging to the company, always making more than ten knots an
hour between Brindisi and Suez, and nine and a half between Suez and
Bombay.
Two men were promenading up and down the wharves, among the crowd of
natives and strangers who were sojourning at this once straggling
village—now, thanks to the enterprise of M. Lesseps, a fast-growing
town. One was the British consul at Suez, who, despite the prophecies
of the English Government, and the unfavourable predictions of
Stephenson, was in the habit of seeing, from his office window, English
ships daily passing to and fro on the great canal, by which the old
roundabout route from England to India by the Cape of Good Hope was
abridged by at least a half. The other was a small, slight-built
personage, with a nervous, intelligent face, and bright eyes peering
out from under eyebrows which he was incessantly twitching. He was just
now manifesting unmistakable signs of impatience, nervously pacing up
and down, and unable to stand still for a moment. This was Fix, one of
the detectives who had been dispatched from England in search of the
bank robber; it was his task to narrowly watch every passenger who
arrived at Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be suspicious
characters, or bore a resemblance to the description of the criminal,
which he had received two days before from the police headquarters at
London. The detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining
the splendid reward which would be the prize of success, and awaited
with a feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the
steamer “Mongolia.”
“So you say, consul,” asked he for the twentieth time, “that this
steamer is never behind time?”
“No, Mr. Fix,” replied the consul. “She was bespoken yesterday at Port
Said, and the rest of the way is of no account to such a craft. I
repeat that the ‘Mongolia’ has been in advance of the time required by
the company’s regulations, and gained the prize awarded for excess of
speed.”
“Does she come directly from Brindisi?”
“Directly from Brindisi; she takes on the Indian mails there, and she
left there Saturday at five p.m. Have patience, Mr. Fix; she will not
be late. But really, I don’t see how, from the description you have,
you will be able to recognise your man, even if he is on board the
‘Mongolia.’”
“A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, than
recognises them. You must have a scent for them, and a scent is like a
sixth sense which combines hearing, seeing, and smelling. I’ve arrested
more than one of these gentlemen in my time, and, if my thief is on
board, I’ll answer for it; he’ll not slip through my fingers.”
