Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr Fogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived his five friends of the Reform.
`Well, gentlemen,' said he, `I'm off, you see; and if you will examine my passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I have accomplished the journey agreed upon.'
`Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr Fogg,' said Ralph politely. `We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour.'
`You do not forget when you are due in London again?' asked Stuart.
`In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen.
Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class carriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the Station.
The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Phileas Fogg, snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips. Passepartout, not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the carpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.
Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout suddenly uttered a cry of despair.