"At half-past eight," he said, "you will be brought before Judge
Obadiah." He then went out and locked the door.
"So we are prisoners," exclaimed Passe-partout, dropping into a chair.
Mrs. Aouda, turning to Mr. Fogg, said tearfully: "Oh sir, pray do not think of me any longer. It is on my account that you have been arrested. It is for having saved me."
Phileas Fogg calmly replied that such a thing was not possible. It was quite out of the question that they could be arrested on account of the suttee. The complainants would not dare to present themselves. There must be some mistake, and Mr. Fogg added that in any case he would see the young lady safe to Hong Kong.
"But the steamer starts at twelve o'clock," said Passe-partout.
"We shall be on board before that," replied the impassible Fogg.
This was said so decidedly that Passe-partout could not help muttering, "That's all right then, we shall be on board in time no doubt." But in his soul he was not so very certain of it.
At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman entered, and conducted the friends into an adjoining room. This was the court, and was pretty well filled by Europeans and natives. The three companions were allotted seats on a bench lacing the magistrate's desk. Judge Obadiah, followed by the clerk, entered almost immediately. He was a fat, round-faced man. He took down a wig from a nail and put it on.
"Call the first case," he began, but immediately putting his hand to his head he said, "This is not my wig."
"The fact is, your honour, it is mine," replied the clerk.