The Other Log of Phileas Fogg

Had he done this because the chief of the Eridaneans knew that he was coming to Europe with the distorter?

Where then had Nemo gotten the knowledge to make a new distorter? Surely, from schematics. Where had he gotten them? From Head? But Fogg had examined Head’s clothing and body, and Nemo had been examined by both Passepartout and Fogg. Still, Nemo had not been frisked again after returning to the General Grant.

Could Nemo have removed the schematics from Head’s body during the disarming and the cleaning up of the Mary Celeste? The only time he had been close to Head after he had been searched was when he had helped Fogg throw the corpse overboard.

Somehow, he had gotten hold of the schematics. And he had made two new ones in San Francisco while Fogg’s party was traveling east. One of the new distorters would have to be left behind. He had brought with him the other distorter when he was transmitted, undoubtedly by the device brought to London by the man from China.

And he had carried the new distorter with him to Fogg’s house just in case he would not be able to get hold of Passepartout’s.

The colonel went up the steps and returned a minute later. He left the house with a hard slam of the door. Nemo called out, “The fool! Will he never go quietly?”

Valdeleur got up to look through the window. He gave a cry and clutched the curtains. Then he said, “The idiot!”

He whirled and ran to the foot of the staircase and called up, “Your brother’s in trouble!”

Passepartout could hear the heavy footsteps of Nemo as he ran to the room overlooking the street. A moment later, his boots sounded on the floor as he returned and on the steps as he descended. He strode to the curtains, pulled Vandeleur roughly aside, and looked out.

He swore and said, “I told him! He was to keep his body away!”

He swore again, ran to the door, opened it, and then closed it again.

Passepartout heard a shrill whinnying, the clatter of hooves, and a scream. Shouts from down the street came faintly.

Vandeleur swore also.

“The beast knocked him down and the hansom rode over him!”

He turned to Nemo.

“What do we do now?”

Nemo said, “Oh, the fool! He’ll pay for this!”

“In more ways than one,” Vandeleur said. “He’s unconscious, the bloody blighter!”

“How he ever got to be a colonel is understandable only if you know the general level of intelligence of Her Majesty’s officers,” Nemo said. “But how I could be brother to him and that other idiot is explainable only by the fact that we had different mothers!”

“I didn’t know that,” Vandeleur muttered. “That explains why your brother’s named James, too.”

“And a fine lot of confusion that resulted in, too!” Nemo said. “She would insist on naming him after her father, even if my father objected!”

His expression became even harder. He said, “That’s neither here nor there.”

He went back up the stairs. Presumably, he was notifying whoever was stationed at the door of Fogg’s bedroom of the situation.

Passepartout groaned behind the gag. If only Mr. Fogg and Aouda had known about this, they could have made a break. With only one man at their door, they might have gotten loose.

19

Aouda was in her room and wondering if Phileas Fogg would ever ask her to marry him.

If she were called away on another mission, she might never see him again. If he did not ask her soon, he might not get a chance even if he wished to do so. Perhaps he was hesitating now only because she was a Parsi. Still, she could pass for a European, and their children would be even more European-looking than she.

But she doubted that her Oriental origin had anything to do with his failure to speak up. What did Fogg care about the opinions of others? No, his difficulty was his inability to express his deepest feelings. He had too much self-control, which meant, in effect, that in many things he could not control his true self.

Fogg, in his room, was thinking about asking Aouda to marry him. But what kind of life could he offer her? It was true that, once she started having children, she would be exempt from missions. Yet, she would know no ease of mind. He would be gone for long periods, in peril most of the time, and could be expected to be killed at any time. Moreover, if the Capelleans found out where she lived, they would kill her and perhaps the children, too.

At that moment, both Fogg and Aouda heard Passepartout’s cry.

Fogg ran out into the hall with a revolver in his hand. A few seconds later, Aouda came out of her room. She was holding a Colt six-shooter.

Fogg gestured for her to go to the other end of the hall so she could command the approach up the servants’ staircase. He hurried to the landing off the big central staircase. As he did so, he heard bootsteps clattering on the stairs. He got to the landing just in time. Three men were running up the second-story stairs, and all were armed with weapons which he instantly recognized as air pistols. He also recognized two of the men. One was a neighbor, the dissolute wenching young baronet, Sir Hector Osbaldistone. The other was Nemo. He had torn off the eye-mask which half-blinded him and the putty nose and false moustache.

Fogg’s shot and Nemo’s went off almost at the same time and both missed. The three men retreated down the stairs.

A shot sounded behind him. He whirled and saw smoke curling from Aouda’s pistol, and then he saw Aouda stagger back until she hit the wall. She slid down, dropping the pistol and clutching her right shoulder. Blood welled out from between the fingers of her left hand.

Fogg, crying, “Aouda, Aouda,” ran down the hall to her. She was pale, and her eyes looked strange, but she was able to murmur, “The bullet only creased me.”

He removed her hand and saw that it had done more than just burn the skin or break it. It had skimmed the upper part of her right breast but had gone into her flesh just below the collarbone. It seemed to have emerged without striking the shoulder bone, though he could not be sure. She was bleeding from both wounds profusely and would soon be in deeper shock, or even dead, if the bleeding were not stopped.

But if he attended to her, the staircase would be left open to the enemy.

She could not continue to man her post here, and he could not defend both positions. There was only one thing to do.

He lifted her and carried her down the hall and into his bedroom. Blood dripped from her and left a trail. Again, that could not be helped.

In the bedroom, he placed her on his bed and then locked the door. From the medicine chest in the bathroom he got dressings and bandages, which he applied in a feverish haste. For once, he was not serene.

Aouda stared at him and muttered something. He said, “Shh, dear!” and put a finger lightly over her lips. A few minutes later, he completed the bandaging. Some of her color seemed to be returning, though he was not sure that his hopes were not supplying it for his eyes. He started to move a heavy bureau toward the door when he heard a door slam down the hall. They were now on this floor and, though they had the trail of blood to follow, were searching the other rooms anyway.

Presently, the knob turned on his door. He fired his revolver at a point just above the knob. If he hit anybody he could not hear anything to indicate so.

A moment later Nemo’s voice came to him. “We have you, Fogg. There’s a man out in the garden with an air rifle. He’ll drop you without fail if you so much as even show yourself at the windows. He’s the best shot in the East and perhaps in the West, too. We have the Frenchman and his distorter, and we can shoot our way in at any time.”

“Not without loss,” Fogg said calmly.

Nemo said something Fogg could not hear distinctly. Footsteps sounded as a man walked heavily away. Fogg shoved the bureau toward the door but decided not to bring it against the door. He would leave it several feet away