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Mr.

Fogg paid the cabman and was about to enter the train station when a poor
beggar approached him. She was carrying a child in her arms, her bare feet were
smeared with mud, and her clothes were old and torn. She asked Mr. Fogg for
some money for food. Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had won that
very evening at whist and handed them to her, saying, "Here, my good woman.
I'm glad that I met you." Then he continued on his way.
Passepartout was touched by his master's generosity, and he entered the station
with a tear in his eye.
Mr. Fogg quickly bought two first-class tickets for Paris. As he and Passepatout
were crossing the platform, Mr. Fogg saw his five friends from the Reform
Club.
"Well, gentlemen," he said. "I'm off, and you can examine my passport when I
get back. You will be able to judge then whether I completed the journey."
"Oh, that is quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said one man politely. "We trust your
word as a gentleman of honour."
"You do remember when you are due back in London?" asked another man.
"In eighty days, on Saturday, December 21, 1872, at 8:45 p.m.," said Mr. Fogg.
"Good-bye, gentlemen."
And with that, Phileas Fogg and Passepartout boarded the train and seated
themselves in the first-class carriage. Five-minutes later the train whistled, and
then glided out of the station.
Phileas Fogg suspected that his departure from London would create a lively
sensation. He was right. The news of the extraordinary bet spread through the
Reform Club and sparked excited conversation among its members. The news
quickly got into the newspapers around London, and the "tour of the world" was
soon being talked about all over town.
Some people supported Mr. Fogg and believed his journey would be a success.
But many thought he was insane for betting so much money on a journey he
could not possibly complete in eighty days. Many of the newspapers claimed
Mr. Fogg's project was madness. Only the Daily Telegraph supported his
adventure.
Soon the members of the Reform Club weren't the only ones to place wagers on
Phileas Fogg's journey. His name began appearing in the betting books as if he
were a racehorse! Five days after his departure, an article appeared in the

bulletin of the Royal Geographical Society. Everything, it said, was against the
travelers. There would be obstacles imposed by humans and by nature.
Furthermore, Fogg's success would depend on a miraculous agreement of trains
and steamers' departure and arrival times. Mr. Fogg might be able to depend on
trains arriving on time in Europe, where distances were relatively short. But
when he was trying to cross India in three days, and the United States in seven,
transportation would not be as reliable. Surely there would be problems with
machinery, trains running off the tracks, collisions, and bad weather.
Still, as Phileas Fogg rode the train out of London, he was relaxed and confident
in his first-class carriage, unconcerned about any of the problems that could
interrupt his journey. Passepartout, however, had still not recovered from the
shock of being whisked away on such short notice. He clung mechanically to
the carpetbag filled with money and stared straight ahead without seeing a
thing.
As the train was speeding through Sydenham, just outside London, Passepartout
suddenly uttered a cry of despair.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.

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