"We want no luggage; a carpet-bag will do. Pack up two night-shirts and three pairs of socks, and the same for yourself. We will buy what we want as we go along. Bring my mackintosh and travelling-cloak down with you, and a couple of pairs of strong boots, although we shall have little or no walking. Look alive."
Passe-partout wished to speak, but could not He left his master's bedroom, and went upstairs to his own, fell into a chair, and exclaimed:
"Well, this is coming it pretty strong, and for me too, who wanted to be quiet!"
Mechanically he set about making preparations for departure. Around the world in eighty days! Had he engaged himself with a maniac? No—it was only a joke. But they were going to Dover and to Calais. So far so good. After all, he did not object to that very much, for it was five years since he had seen his native land. Perhaps they would even go on to Paris, and he would be delighted to see the capital again. No doubt a gentleman so economical of his steps would stop there; but on the other hand, this hitherto very domestic gentleman was leaving home. That was a fact.
At eight o'clock Passe-partout had packed the small bag which now contained his master's luggage and his own, and in a very troubled frame of mind he quitted his room, closed the door carefully, and went downstairs to Mr. Fogg.
That gentleman was quite ready. Under his arm he carried a copy of
"Bradshaw's Continental Guide." He took the small bag from
Passe-partout, opened it, and placed therein a bulky roll of
bank-notes, which will pass in any country.
"You are sure you have not forgotten anything?" he asked.
"Quite sure, sir."
"You have my mackintosh and travelling-cloak?"
"Here they are, sir."