"Oh dear no," replied Passe-partout. "I only entered his service the very day we left."
The effect which all these replies had upon the suspicious nature of the detective may be imagined.
The hurried departure from London, so soon after the robbery, the large sum in bank-notes, the haste to reach India, under the pretext of an eccentric bet, all confirmed Fix, and not unnaturally, in his previously conceived ideas. He made up his mind to pump the Frenchman a little more, and make certain that the valet knew no more concerning his master than that he lived alone in London, was reported to be very rich, though no one knew from whence his fortune was derived, and that he was a very mysterious man, etc. But at the same time. Fix felt sure that Phileas Fogg would not land at Suez, and would really go on to Bombay.
"Is Bombay far off?" asked Passe-partout.
"Pretty well. It is ten days' steaming from here."
"And whereabouts is Bombay?"
"It is in India."
"In Asia?"
"Naturally."
"The devil! I was going to say that there is something on my mind, and that is my burner."