Phileas Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London
would create a lively sensation at the West End. The news of the
bet spread through the Reform Club, and afforded an exciting topic
of conversation to its members. From the club it soon got into
the papers throughout England. The boasted “tour of the world”
was talked about, disputed, argued with as much warmth as if the
subject were another Alabama claim. Some took sides with Phileas
Fogg, but the large majority shook their heads and declared
against him; it was absurd, impossible, they declared, that the
tour of the world could be made, except theoretically and on paper,
in this minimum of time, and with the existing means of travelling.
The Times, Standard, Morning Post, and Daily News, and twenty other
highly respectable newspapers scouted Mr. Fogg’s project as madness;
the Daily Telegraph alone hesitatingly supported him. People in general
thought him a lunatic, and blamed his Reform Club friends for having
accepted a wager which betrayed the mental aberration of its proposer.

Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question,
for geography is one of the pet subjects of the English;
and the columns devoted to Phileas Fogg’s venture were eagerly
devoured by all classes of readers. At first some rash individuals,
principally of the gentler sex, espoused his cause, which became
still more popular when the Illustrated London News came out
with his portrait, copied from a photograph in the Reform Club.
A few readers of the Daily Telegraph even dared to say,
“Why not, after all? Stranger things have come to pass.”

At last a long article appeared, on the 7th of October, in the bulletin
of the Royal Geographical Society, which treated the question from
every point of view, and demonstrated the utter folly of the enterprise.

Everything, it said, was against the travellers, every obstacle imposed
alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure
and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success.
He might, perhaps, reckon on the arrival of trains at the designated hours,
in Europe, where the distances were relatively moderate; but when
he calculated upon crossing India in three days, and the United States
in seven, could he rely beyond misgiving upon accomplishing his task?
There were accidents to machinery, the liability of trains to run off the line,
collisions, bad weather, the blocking up by snow–were not all these against
Phileas Fogg? Would he not find himself, when travelling by steamer in winter,
at the mercy of the winds and fogs? Is it uncommon for the best ocean steamers
to be two or three days behind time? But a single delay would suffice to
fatally break the chain of communication; should Phileas Fogg once miss,
even by an hour; a steamer, he would have to wait for the next,
and that would irrevocably render his attempt vain.

This article made a great deal of noise, and, being copied into
all the papers, seriously depressed the advocates of the rash tourist.

Everybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are
of a higher class than mere gamblers; to bet is in the English temperament.
Not only the members of the Reform, but the general public, made heavy wagers
for or against Phileas Fogg, who was set down in the betting books as if
he were a race-horse. Bonds were issued, and made their appearance on ‘Change;
“Phileas Fogg bonds” were offered at par or at a premium, and a great business
was done in them. But five days after the article in the bulletin of the
Geographical Society appeared, the demand began to subside: “Phileas Fogg”
declined. They were offered by packages, at first of five, then of ten,
until at last nobody would take less than twenty, fifty, a hundred!

Lord Albemarle, an elderly paralytic gentleman, was now the only advocate
of Phileas Fogg left. This noble lord, who was fastened to his chair,
would have given his fortune to be able to make the tour of the world,
if it took ten years; and he bet five thousand pounds on Phileas Fogg.
When the folly as well as the uselessness of the adventure was pointed out
to him, he contented himself with replying, “If the thing is feasible,
the first to do it ought to be an Englishman.”

The Fogg party dwindled more and more, everybody was going against him,
and the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred to one;
and a week after his departure an incident occurred which deprived him
of backers at any price.

The commissioner of police was sitting in his office at nine o’clock
one evening, when the following telegraphic dispatch was put into his hands:

Suez to London.

Rowan, Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard:

I’ve found the bank robber, Phileas Fogg. Send with out delay warrant
of arrest to Bombay.

Fix, Detective.

The effect of this dispatch was instantaneous. The polished gentleman
disappeared to give place to the bank robber. His photograph, which was
hung with those of the rest of the members at the Reform Club,
was minutely examined, and it betrayed, feature by feature,
the description of the robber which had been provided to the police.
The mysterious habits of Phileas Fogg were recalled; his solitary ways,
his sudden departure; and it seemed clear that, in undertaking a tour
round the world on the pretext of a wager, he had had no other end in view
than to elude the detectives, and throw them off his track.