In which the detective Fix shows a quite understandable impatience

The circumstances leading up to the sending of this telegram about that man Phileas Fogg were as follows:

On Wednesday 9 October, the liner Mongolia was due to arrive in Suez at eleven o’clock in the morning. The Mongolia, which belonged to the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, was an iron-hulled, propeller-driven steamer with a spar-deck. It weighed 2,800 tons and had a nominal 500 horsepower. The Mongolia regularly did the run from Brindisi to Bombay via the Suez Canal. It was one of the company’s fastest vessels and it had always exceeded its scheduled speed, namely 10 miles per hour, between Brindisi and Suez and 9.53 miles per hour between Suez and Bombay.

While they waited for the Mongolia to arrive, two men were walking along the quayside, mingling with the crowd of natives and foreigners that flock to this town, which was until recently only a village, but which can look forward to a successful future thanks to Ferdinand de Lesseps’s great feat of engineering.

Of these two men, one was the United Kingdom consul based in Suez, who – despite the pessimistic forecasts of the British government and the bleak predictions of Stephenson, the famous engineer – saw British ships going through the canal every day, thereby reducing by half the journey from England to India compared to the old route via the Cape of Good Hope. The other was a small, skinny man, quite intelligent-looking but nervous, with an almost-permanent frown on his face. His long eyelashes concealed a piercing gaze, but one that he could soften at will. At that particular moment he was showing signs of some impatience, pacing up and down, unable to stay still.

This man was called Fix, and he was one of those English detectives or policemen who had been sent to the various ports after the discovery of the theft at the Bank of England. Fix was supposed to keep a careful watch on passengers travelling via Suez and, if one of them aroused his suspicions, to stay on his track until he received an arrest warrant.

As it happened, two days previously Fix had received the description of the suspected thief from the head of the Metropolitan Police. It was a description of that distinguished, welldressed gentleman who had been seen in the cash room in the Bank of England.

The detective, obviously spurred on by the prospect of a large reward for a successful arrest, was therefore waiting for the Mongolia to arrive with understandable impatience.

‘Am I right, sir,’ he asked for the umpteenth time, ‘that according to you the ship must be in soon?’

‘Yes, Mr Fix,’ replied the consul. ‘It was reported yesterday as being off Port Said and a vessel as fast as this will get through the hundred miles of canal in next to no time. I should remind you again that the Mongolia has always earned the £25 bonus that the government gives every time a ship arrives twenty-four hours ahead of schedule.’

‘The ship’s coming straight from Brindisi, isn’t it?’ asked Fix.

‘Yes, straight from Brindisi, where it picked up the mail for India. It left Brindisi on Saturday at five o’clock in the evening. So be patient. It must be in very soon now. But I really don’t understand how, with the description you’ve got, you’ll be able to recognize your man if he really is on board the Mongolia.’

‘My dear sir,’ replied Fix, ‘you sniff out this sort of individual rather than recognize them. It’s nose that you need and nose is like an extra sense, a combination of hearing, sight and smell. In my lifetime I’ve arrested more than one of these gentlemen, and as long as my thief really is on board I can guarantee you that he won’t slip through my fingers.’

‘I hope not, Mr Fix, because it was a substantial theft.’

‘A magnificent theft,’ the detective replied enthusiastically. ‘£55,000! We don’t often get such big windfalls! Thieves are becoming petty criminals. The great English thief is a dying breed. People get themselves hanged for only a few shillings these days.’

‘Mr Fix,’ replied the consul, ‘the way you talk I wish you every success, but I must repeat that given the circumstances I’m afraid your task will not be an easy one. You must realize that from the description you’ve received the thief is a perfectly respectable-looking person.’

‘My dear consul,’ the police inspector replied in a dogmatic tone of voice, ‘great thieves always look like respectable people. You must understand that people who look like crooks have only one option, to remain on the right side of the law. Otherwise they would be arrested. It’s the honest-looking faces you have to examine closely. A difficult task, I admit, and one that makes this not just a job but an art.’

It is clear that the aforesaid Fix had a strong sense of his own importance.

Meanwhile the quayside was gradually getting busy. Sailors of different nationalities, shopkeepers, brokers, porters and fellahs5 were flooding in. The liner was obviously about to arrive.

The weather was fairly good, but the air was chilly because of an easterly wind. Some minarets stood out above the town in the pale sunshine. Towards the south a jetty about 2,000 metres long stuck out like an arm into the harbour of Suez. Several fishing boats or coastal vessels moved across the surface of the Red Sea, some of them still having the elegant outline of an ancient galley.

As he made his way through this crowd Fix ran a rapid eye over the passers-by out of sheer professional habit.

By now it was half past ten.

‘But this liner doesn’t look as if it’s ever going to arrive,’ he exclaimed as he heard the harbour clock strike.

‘It can’t be far away,’ replied the consul.

‘How long will it stop in Suez for?’ Fix asked.

‘Four hours. The time needed to take on board more coal. From Suez to Aden at the far end of the Red Sea it’s 1,310 nautical miles, so it needs to have a fresh supply of fuel.’

‘And from Suez, does the boat go straight on to Bombay?’ asked Fix.

‘Straight on, without unloading.’

‘Well, then,’ said Fix, ‘if the thief is coming this way and on this boat, it must be part of his plan to disembark at Suez in order to find another way of getting to the Dutch or French possessions in Asia. He must be well aware that he wouldn’t be safe in India, which is British soil.’

‘Unless he’s a very clever man,’ replied the consul. ‘As you know, an English criminal is always better off hiding in London rather than abroad.’

After this remark, which gave the detective food for thought, the consul went back to his office, which was only a short distance away. The police inspector remained alone, an impatient bag of nerves. He had a strange sort of premonition that the thief was bound to be on board the Mongolia, and in all truth if the crook had left England with the intention of reaching the New World, it would be logical for him to prefer the route via India because it was less carefully watched or more difficult to watch than the route across the Atlantic.

Fix didn’t remain lost in his thoughts for long. Some sharp blasts on the whistle announced the liner’s arrival. The whole horde of porters and fellahs rushed towards the quayside, threatening injury and damage to the waiting passengers and their clothes. A dozen or so small boats set off from the bank of the canal and went out to meet the Mongolia.

Soon the enormous bulk of the Mongolia came into view, moving along between the banks of the canal. Eleven o’clock was striking as the steamer dropped anchor in the harbour, noisily letting steam out of its funnels.

There were quite a large number of passengers on board. Some remained on the spar-deck, gazing at the picturesque panorama of the town, but most of them disembarked in the small boats that had come alongside the Mongolia.

Fix examined closely all those who set foot on dry land.

At that moment one of the passengers came up to him after briskly pushing aside all the fellahs who were accosting him and offering their services. He asked Fix very politely if he could point out to him the office of the British consul. At the same time this passenger showed a passport that he presumably wanted to have stamped with a British visa.

Fix instinctively took the passport and rapidly read the description of the bearer.

He had difficulty controlling his reaction. The document trembled in his hand. The description provided on the passport was identical to the one he had received from the head of the Metropolitan Police.

‘This passport doesn’t belong to you, does it?’ he said to the passenger.

‘No. It’s my master’s passport.’

‘And where is your master?’

‘Still on board.’

‘I’m afraid,’ continued the detective, ‘he has to go in person to the consul’s office to prove his identity.’

‘What! Is that really necessary?’

‘Indispensable.’

‘So where is this office?’

‘Over there, in the corner of the square,’ replied the inspector, pointing to a building about 200 yards away.

‘In that case I’ll go and fetch my master, who certainly won’t be pleased to be disturbed.’

With that, the passenger said goodbye to Fix and went back on board the steamer.