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took their places and were driven away. No one spoke during
the twenty minutes which elapsed before they reached their destination.
They first passed through the "black town," with its narrow streets,
its miserable, dirty huts, and squalid population; then through the
"European town," which presented a relief in its bright brick mansions,
shaded by coconut-trees and bristling with masts, where, although it was
early morning, elegantly dressed horsemen and handsome equipages
were passing back and forth.
The carriage stopped before a modest-looking house, which,
however, did not have the appearance of a private mansion.
The policeman having requested his prisoners for so, truly,
they might be called-to descend, conducted them into a room
with barred windows, and said: "You will appear before
Judge Obadiah at half-past eight."
He then retired, and closed the door.
"Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed Passepartout, falling into a chair.
Aouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg:
"Sir, you must leave me to my fate! It is on my account that
you receive this treatment, it is for having saved me!"
Phileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible.
It was quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a suttee.
The complainants would not dare present themselves with such a charge.
There was some mistake. Moreover, he would not, in any event,
abandon Aouda, but would escort her to Hong Kong.
"But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed Passepartout, nervously.
"We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.
It was said so positively that Passepartout could not help
muttering to himself, "Parbleu that's certain! Before noon
we shall be on board." But he was by no means reassured.
At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and,
requesting them to follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall.
It was evidently a court-room, and a crowd of Europeans and natives
already occupied the rear of the apartment.
Mr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a
bench opposite the desks of the magistrate and his clerk.
Immediately after, Judge Obadiah, a fat, round man, followed by
the clerk, entered. He proceeded to take down a wig which was
hanging on a nail, and put it hurriedly on his head.
"The first case," said he. Then, putting his hand to his
head, he exclaimed, "Heh! This is not my wig!"
"No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."
"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence
in a clerk's wig?"
The wigs were exchanged.
Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the big clock
over the judge seemed to go around with terrible rapidity.
"The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.
"Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff.
"I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.
"Passepartout?"
"Present," responded Passepartout.
"Good," said the judge. "You have been looked for, prisoners,
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