บทที่ บทที่ 6 · IN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, BETRAYS A VERY NATURAL IMPATIENCE

. 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.”

“I hope so, Mr. Fix, for it was a heavy robbery.”

“A magnificent robbery, consul; fifty-five thousand pounds! We don’t

often have such windfalls. Burglars are getting to be so contemptible

nowadays! A fellow gets hung for a handful of shillings!”

“Mr. Fix,” said the consul, “I like your way of talking, and hope

you’ll succeed; but I fear you will find it far from easy. Don’t you

see, the description which you have there has a singular resemblance to

an honest man?”

“Consul,” remarked the detective, dogmatically, “great robbers always

resemble honest folks. Fellows who have rascally faces have only one

course to take, and that is to remain honest; otherwise they would be

arrested off-hand. The artistic thing is, to unmask honest

countenances; it’s no light task, I admit, but a real art.”

Mr. Fix evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit.

Little by little the scene on the quay became more animated; sailors of

various nations, merchants, ship-brokers, porters, fellahs, bustled to

and fro as if the steamer were immediately expected. The weather was

clear, and slightly chilly. The minarets of the town loomed above the

houses in the pale rays of the sun. A jetty pier, some two thousand

yards along, extended into the roadstead. A number of fishing-smacks

and coasting boats, some retaining the fantastic fashion of ancient

galleys, were discernible on the Red Sea.

As he passed among the busy crowd, Fix, according to habit, scrutinised

the passers-by with a keen, rapid glance.

It was now half-past ten.

“The steamer doesn’t come!” he exclaimed, as the port clock struck.

“She can’t be far off now,” returned his companion.

“How long will she stop at Suez?”

“Four hours; long enough to get in her coal. It is thirteen hundred and

ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea, and she

has to take in a fresh coal supply.”

“And does she go from Suez directly to Bombay?”

“Without putting in anywhere.”

“Good!” said Fix. “If the robber is on board he will no doubt get off

at Suez, so as to reach the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by some

other route. He ought to know that he would not be safe an hour in

India, which is English soil.”

“Unless,” objected the consul, “he is exceptionally shrewd. An English

criminal, you know, is always better concealed in London than anywhere

else.”

This observation furnished the detective food for thought, and

meanwhile the consul went away to his office. Fix, left alone, was more

impatient than ever, having a presentiment that the robber was on board

the “Mongolia.” If he had indeed left London intending to reach the New

World, he would naturally take the route _viâ_ India, which was less

watched and more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic. But

Fix’s reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp

whistles, which announced the arrival of the “Mongolia.” The porters

and fellahs rushed down the quay, and a dozen boats pushed off from the

shore to go and meet the steamer. Soon her gigantic hull appeared

passing along between the banks, and eleven o’clock struck as she

anchored in the road. She brought an unusual number of passengers, some

of whom remained on deck to scan the picturesque panorama of the town,

while the greater part disembarked in the boats, and landed on the

quay.

Fix took up a position, and carefully examined each face and figure

which made its appearance. Presently one of the passengers, after

vigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of porters,

came up to him and politely asked if he could point out the English

consulate, at the same time showing a passport which he wished to have

_visaed_. Fix instinctively took the passport, and with a rapid glance

read the description of its bearer. An involuntary motion of surprise

nearly escaped him, for the description in the passport was identical

with that of the bank robber which he had received from Scotland Yard.

“Is this your passport?” asked he.

“No, it’s my master’s.”

“And your master is—”

“He stayed on board.”

“But he must go to the consul’s in person, so as to establish his

identity.”

“Oh, is that necessary?”

“Quite indispensable.”

“And where is the consulate?”

“There, on the corner of the square,” said Fix, pointing to a house two

hundred steps off.

“I’ll go and fetch my master, who won’t be much pleased, however, to be

disturbed.”

The passenger bowed to Fix, and returned to the steamer.