Chapter 16 The Bet is Lost Phileas Fogg was in prison.
He had been locked up at the Custom House since Fix had arrested him a few moments before.
He was to be sent back to London in a matter of minutes.
When he saw Fix arrest his monsieur Passepartout tried to attack the detective in a rage, but there were policemen by the detective's side and they held the butler back.
Aura was thunderstruck.
She did not understand what was going on.
Passepartout explained everything.
He told her that Fix thought Phileas Fogg was the bank robber and described how he had chased them around the world.
Was this all my fault?
Passepartout thought.
What if I had told the Monsieur about Fix from the beginning?
Could I have stopped him from being arrested?
Maybe the Monsieur would have been able to convince Fix of his innocence, but it was too late to do anything differently.
Pastor Pertus sat down at the custom house and cried.
Aouda was there, too.
Neither one wanted to leave until they could see Phileas.
Phileas Fogg had no more chances left.
He needed to be at the Reform Club in exactly nine hours.
The trip from Liverpool to London would take six, but now that he was under arrest there was no guarantee he would even make it to London in time to clear his name, much less get himself over to the Reform Club.
Inside his jail cell, Phileas Fogg sat very still.
Although the bench was hard and his future uncertain, he was not emotional.
He simply sat there waiting.
For what?
Did he still hope to win the bet?
Even with the prison doors closed in front of him, could he still win?
Phileas carefully set his watch down beside him and looked at the hands as they moved.
He didn't say a word.
The situation was this.
If Phileas Fogg was honest, he was ruined.
If he was the robber, he was caught.
Did he think about escaping?
Maybe just once as he walked slowly around the cell.
But the door was hopelessly locked and there were iron bars on the windows.
He sat down and took his journal from his pocket.
He wrote, December 21st, Saturday, Liverpool, and then he added 80th day, 1140 a.m.
All he could do now was wait.
The custom house clock struck one.
His watch was two hours too slow.
They must have lost time somewhere along the way.
Phileas thought to himself that if he was on an express train he could be in London and just make it to the Reform Club at time to win his bet.
But alas, he was stuck in jail.
Another hour and a half went by before he heard some noise outside.
It was Passepartout.
His eyes brightened just a bit.
The door swung open and Phileas saw Passerpartout, Aura, and Fix, who hurried toward him.
Fix was panting and his hair stood up on end.
Sir, he stuttered, forgive me, there's been a mistake.
He looked just like you, robber.
He was arrested a few days ago, you're free.
The real robber, James Strand, had been arrested in Edinburgh three days ago.
Filius Fogg was innocent.
He stood up and straightened his coat.
Then he walked quickly up to Detective Fix and promptly hit him on the nose.
He knocked him right down.
"'Well done, sir,' Passepartout said.
Fix didn't move.
He knew he had received what he deserved.'
Phileas, Aouda, and Passerpatou left the custom house in a hurry.
They jumped into a cab and raced to the train station.
Have we missed all the trains to London?
Passerpatou said to no one in particular.
Let me find out, Phileas said.
He went to the ticket desk and asked if there was an express train leaving shortly.
I'm sorry, sir.
The clerk said it just left five minutes ago.
Oh, no, Aouda said.
We'll never make it. an idea, Phileas said.
Let me see if I can hire a train to take us to London.
Wait here.
Phileas spoke with the clerk, who called the station manager.
The two men discussed the situation.
A few minutes later, Phileas walked back over to Passapartout in Aouda.
I've hired a special train.
We're leaving at 3 p.m., Phileas said.
At last, the three world travelers were on the final leg of their journey.
When Phileas Fogg stepped onto the platform in London, the clocks were striking ten minutes before nine.
Having made it around the world in eighty days, he arrived just five minutes too late.
He had lost the bet.
