longer be arrested. Opium is smoked everywhere and always in the Middle Empire. Men and women give themselves up to this deplorable passion, and when they are accustomed to inhaling the fumes they can no longer do without it, except by suffering terrible cramps in the stomach. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight pipes a day, but he dies in five years.
Now it was in one of the numerous smoking-houses of this kind, which swarm even in Hong Kong, that Fix and Passepartout had entered with the intention of refreshing themselves. Passepartout had no money, but he accepted willingly the "politeness" of his companion, ready to return it to him at the proper time and place.
They called for two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did full justice, whilst Fix, more reserved, observed his companion with the closest attention. They talked of one thing and another, and especially of the excellent idea that Fix had of taking passage on the Carnatic. The bottles now being empty, Passepartout rose to inform his master that the steamer would leave several hours in advance of the time announced.
Fix detained him.
"One moment," he said.
"What do you wish, Monsieur Fix?"
"I have some serious matters to talk to you about."
"Serious matters?" cried Passepartout, emptying the few drops of wine remaining in the bottom of his glass. "Very well, we will talk about them to-morrow. I have not the time to-day."
"Remain," replied Fix. "It concerns your master, Phileas Fogg."
Passepartout, at this phrase, looked attentively at his questioner. The expression of Fix's face seemed singular to him. He took a seat again. "What have you to say to me?" he asked.
Fix placed his hand upon his companion's arm, and lowering his voice, he asked him, "You have guessed who I am."
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout smiling.
"Then I am going to tell you everything."
"Now that I know everything, my friend. Ah! that's pretty tough! But go on. But first let me tell you that
