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his watch, he replied that it was three in the morning. This famous timepiece,
always regulated on the Greenwich meridian, which was now some seventy-seven
degrees westward, was at least four hours slow. Sir Francis corrected
Passepartout's time, whereupon the latter made the same remark that he had
done to Fix; and upon the general insisting that the watch should be
regulated in each new meridian, since he was constantly going eastward,
that is in the face of the sun, and therefore the days were shorter
by four minutes for each degree gone over, Passepartout obstinately refused
to alter his watch, which he kept at London time. It was an innocent delusion
which could harm no one.

The train stopped, at eight o'clock, in the midst of a glade some
fifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows,
and workmen's cabins. The conductor, passing along the carriages,
shouted, "Passengers will get out here!"

Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation;
but the general could not tell what meant a halt in the midst
of this forest of dates and acacias.

Passepartout, not less surprised, rushed out and speedily returned, crying:
"Monsieur, no more railway!"

"What do you mean?" asked Sir Francis.

"I mean to say that the train isn't going on."

The general at once stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmly followed him,
and they proceeded together to the conductor.

"Where are we?" asked Sir Francis.

"At the hamlet of Kholby."

"Do we stop here?"

"Certainly. The railway isn't finished."

"What! not finished?"

"No. There's still a matter of fifty miles to be laid
from here to Allahabad, where the line begins again."

"But the papers announced the opening of the railway throughout."

"What would you have, officer? The papers were mistaken."

"Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta," retorted Sir Francis,
who was growing warm.

"No doubt," replied the conductor; "but the passengers know
that they must provide means of transportation for themselves
from Kholby to Allahabad."

Sir Francis was furious. Passepartout would willingly have knocked
the conductor down, and did not dare to look at his master.

"Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg quietly, "we will, if you please,
look about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad."

"Mr. Fogg, this is a delay greatly to your disadvantage."

"No, Sir Francis; it was foreseen."

"What! You knew that the way--"

"Not at all; but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooner or later
arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two days,
which I have already gained, to sacrifice. A steamer leaves Calcutta
for Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th. This is the 22nd, and we shall
reach Calcutta in time."

There was nothing to say to so confident a response.

It was but too true that the railway came to a termination at this point.
The papers were like some watches, which have a way of getting too fast,
and had been premature in their announcement of the completion of the line.

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