万事通说话也许有点太多了
菲克斯很快找到了正靠在码头四处张望的万事通——这位仆人似乎觉得至少自己没必要装作什么都看不见。
"喂，朋友，"侦探上前说道，"您的护照签证办好了吗？"
"啊，是您啊，先生？"万事通应声道，"谢谢，是的，护照办妥了。"
"您这是在四处张望？"
"是的，但我们走得实在太快了，我简直像是在梦中旅行。这么说，这就是苏伊士？"
"没错。"
"在埃及？"
"当然，在埃及。"
"在非洲？"
"在非洲。"
"在非洲！"万事通重复道，"您想想看，先生，我原以为我们顶多到巴黎呢；而我对巴黎的全部印象，就是早上七点二十分到八点四十分之间，透过车厢窗户冒着倾盆大雨看到的北站和里昂车站之间的那段路！我真后悔没能再看一眼拉雪兹神父公墓和香榭丽舍大街的竞技场！"
"那您很着急？"
"我不急，是我主人急。对了，我得买些鞋子和衬衫。我们出门没带行李箱，只有一个旅行袋。"
"我可以带您去一家不错的商店采购。"
"真的吗，先生，您真是太好了。"
两人便一同走去，万事通一路上喋喋不休。
"最重要的是，"他说，"别让我误了船。"
"时间还多着呢，才十二点。"
万事通掏出他那块大怀表："十二点！"他喊道，"可现在还差八分才到十点呢。"
"您的表慢了。"
"我的表？先生，这可是传家宝，从我曾祖父那辈传下来的！一年误差不超过五分钟。您瞧，这可是块精准无比的计时器。"
"我明白了，"菲克斯说，"您还保持着伦敦时间，比苏伊士时间晚了两小时。每到一地，您应该在正午时校准您的表。"
"校准我的表？绝不！"
"那么，它就和太阳不一致了。"
"那太阳就更糟了，先生！是太阳错了！"
这位老好人说着，带着挑战的神气把表塞回表袋。沉默片刻后，菲克斯又开口了："这么说，您是匆忙离开伦敦的？"
"可不是嘛！上周五晚上八点，福格先生从俱乐部回家，三刻钟后我们就出发了。"
"您的主人要去哪里？"
"一直往前走。他要环游世界。"
"环游世界？"菲克斯叫道。
"是的，而且只用八十天！他说这是打赌，但私下里说，我一个字也不信。那不合常理。这里面肯定另有名堂。"
"啊！福格先生是个怪人，对吧？"
"我看是的。"
"他很有钱？"
"毫无疑问，因为他随身带着一大笔崭新的钞票。而且路上花钱也毫不吝惜：他许诺给"蒙古号"的轮机长一大笔奖金，只要他让我们提前到达孟买。"
"您认识您的主人很久了？"
"哎呀，没有，我就是在我们离开伦敦那天才为他效劳的。"
这些回答对已经多疑而激动的侦探会产生什么样的影响，可想而知。抢劫发生后不久就匆忙离开伦敦；福格先生随身携带巨额现金；他急于前往遥远的国度；以古怪而鲁莽的打赌为借口——这一切都证实了菲克斯的推断。他继续盘问可怜的万事通，得知他对自己主人确实几乎一无所知——主人在伦敦过着离群索居的生活，据说很富有，却没人知道财富从何而来，其事务和习惯都神秘莫测、难以捉摸。菲克斯确信斐利亚·福格不会在苏伊士上岸，而是真的要前往孟买。
"孟买离这儿远吗？"万事通问道。
"相当远。坐船要十天航程。"
"孟买在哪个国家？"
"印度。"
"在亚洲？"
"当然。"
"见鬼！我本来要告诉您一件事让我担心——我的煤气！"
"什么煤气？"
"我的煤气灯，我忘记关掉了，现在正在白白烧着我的钱呢。先生，我算过了，每二十四小时我就损失两先令，正好比我挣的多六便士；您要知道，我们的旅程越长——"
菲克斯有没有在听万事通关于煤气的烦恼？恐怕没有。他根本没在听，而是在琢磨一个计划。这时他们已经到了商店，菲克斯让同伴独自进去采购，叮嘱他别误了船，自己则匆匆赶回领事馆。现在他已经完全确认了，菲克斯恢复了冷静。
"领事，"他说，"我已经没有疑问了。我盯住那家伙了。他装成一个要在八十天内环游世界的怪人。"
"那么他是个狡猾的家伙，"领事回答说，"他想让两国警察都摸不着他的行踪，然后返回伦敦。"
"我们走着瞧。"菲克斯回答。
"可您不会弄错吧？"
"我不会弄错的。"
"为什么这个强盗要急着用签证证明自己经过了苏伊士？"
"为什么？我不知道，但您听我说。"
他扼要地汇报了与万事通交谈中最重要的一些内容。
"总而言之，"领事说，"表面证据全都对这个人不利。您打算怎么办？"
"发一份急电到伦敦，要求立即将逮捕令发往孟买，然后我乘上'蒙古号'，跟着这个混蛋去印度，到了英国领土上，我就礼貌地逮捕他——一手拿逮捕令，一手搭在他肩膀上。"
侦探用冷静而漫不经心的口气说出这番话后，告辞了领事，前往电报局，发出我们先前看到的那份给伦敦警察局的急电。一刻钟后，菲克斯手提一个小包，登上了"蒙古号"；没过多久，这艘气派的轮船就开足马力，驶入了红海的碧波之中。
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TALKS RATHER MORE, PERHAPS, THAN IS PRUDENT
Fix soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about on
the quay, as if he did not feel that he, at least, was obliged not to
see anything.
“Well, my friend,” said the detective, coming up with him, “is your
passport _visaed?_”
“Ah, it’s you, is it, monsieur?” responded Passepartout. “Thanks, yes,
the passport is all right.”
“And you are looking about you?”
“Yes; but we travel so fast that I seem to be journeying in a dream. So
this is Suez?”
“Yes.”
“In Egypt?”
“Certainly, in Egypt.”
“And in Africa?”
“In Africa.”
“In Africa!” repeated Passepartout. “Just think, monsieur, I had no
idea that we should go farther than Paris; and all that I saw of Paris
was between twenty minutes past seven and twenty minutes before nine in
the morning, between the Northern and the Lyons stations, through the
windows of a car, and in a driving rain! How I regret not having seen
once more Père la Chaise and the circus in the Champs Elysées!”
“You are in a great hurry, then?”
“I am not, but my master is. By the way, I must buy some shoes and
shirts. We came away without trunks, only with a carpet-bag.”
“I will show you an excellent shop for getting what you want.”
“Really, monsieur, you are very kind.”
And they walked off together, Passepartout chatting volubly as they
went along.
“Above all,” said he; “don’t let me lose the steamer.”
“You have plenty of time; it’s only twelve o’clock.”
Passepartout pulled out his big watch. “Twelve!” he exclaimed; “why,
it’s only eight minutes before ten.”
“Your watch is slow.”
“My watch? A family watch, monsieur, which has come down from my
great-grandfather! It doesn’t vary five minutes in the year. It’s a
perfect chronometer, look you.”
“I see how it is,” said Fix. “You have kept London time, which is two
hours behind that of Suez. You ought to regulate your watch at noon in
each country.”
“I regulate my watch? Never!”
“Well, then, it will not agree with the sun.”
“So much the worse for the sun, monsieur. The sun will be wrong, then!”
And the worthy fellow returned the watch to its fob with a defiant
gesture. After a few minutes silence, Fix resumed: “You left London
hastily, then?”
“I rather think so! Last Friday at eight o’clock in the evening,
Monsieur Fogg came home from his club, and three-quarters of an hour
afterwards we were off.”
“But where is your master going?”
“Always straight ahead. He is going round the world.”
“Round the world?” cried Fix.
“Yes, and in eighty days! He says it is on a wager; but, between us, I
don’t believe a word of it. That wouldn’t be common sense. There’s
something else in the wind.”
