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Updated: May 9, 2025
It happened that the performer who had hitherto formed the base of the Car had left the troupe, and as, to fill this part, only strength and adroitness were necessary, Passepartout had been chosen to take his place.
The passengers drew around and took part in the discussion, in which Colonel Proctor, with his insolent manner, was conspicuous. Passepartout, joining the group, heard the signal-man say, "No! you can't pass. The bridge at Medicine Bow is shaky, and would not bear the weight of the train." This was a suspension-bridge thrown over some rapids, about a mile from the place where they now were.
They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney. Shortly before the detachment arrived, Passepartout and his companions had begun to struggle with their captors, three of whom the Frenchman had felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers hastened up to their relief. All were welcomed with joyful cries.
He soon reached the clergyman's house, but found him not at home. Passepartout waited a good twenty minutes, and when he left the reverend gentleman, it was thirty-five minutes past eight. But in what a state he was! With his hair in disorder, and without his hat, he ran along the street as never man was seen to run before, overturning passers-by, rushing over the sidewalk like a waterspout.
Passepartout was promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer. The detective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise, and exclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?" "What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really astonished Passepartout, recognizing his crony of the Mongolia. "Why, I left you at Bombay, and here you are on the way to Hong Kong!
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.
"What do you want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first took for a native. "Would you like a servant, sir?" asked Passepartout. "A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard which hung from his chin.
Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the big clock over the judge seemed to go around with terrible rapidity. "The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah. "Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff. "I am here," replied Mr. Fogg. "Passepartout?" "Present," responded Passepartout. "Good," said the judge. "You have been looked for, prisoners, for two days on the trains from Bombay."
"Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the newcomer, Jean Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for going out of one business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades. I've been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin.
Here is his description; it answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg." "What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist. "My master is the most honourable of men!" "How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him. And yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!" "Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.
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