Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House, and he was to be transferred to London the next day.
Passepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would have fallen upon Fix had he not been held back by some policemen. Aouda was thunderstruck at the suddenness of an event which she could not understand. Passepartout explained to her how it was that the honest and courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber. The young woman's heart revolted against so heinous a charge, and when she saw that she could attempt or do nothing to save her protector, she wept bitterly.
As for Fix, he had arrested Mr Fogg because it was his duty, whether Mr Fogg were guilty or not.
The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the cause of this new misfortune！ Had he not concealed Fix's errand from his master? When Fix revealed his true character and purpose, why had he not told Mr Fogg? If the latter had been warned, he would no doubt have given Fix proof of his innocence, and satisfied him of his mistake; at least, Fix would not have continued his journey at the expense and on the heels of his master, only to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil. Passepartout wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing his brains out.
Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of the Custom House. Neither wished to leave the place; both were anxious to see Mr Fogg again.
That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when he was about to attain his end. This arrest was fatal. Having arrived at Liverpool at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st of December, he had till a quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform Club, that is, nine hours and a quarter; the journey from Liverpool to London was six hours.
If anyone, at this moment, had entered the Custom House, he would have found Mr Fogg seated, motionless, calm, and without apparent anger, upon a wooden bench. He was not, it is true, resigned; but this last blow failed to force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion. Was he being devoured by one of those secret rages, all the more terrible because contained, and which only burst forth, with an irresistible force, at the last moment? No one could tell. There he sat, calmly waiting - for what? Did he still cherish hope? Did he still believe, now that the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he would succeed?
However that may have been, Mr Fogg carefully put his watch upon the table, and observed its advancing hands. Not a word escaped his lips, but his look was singularly set and stern. The situation, in any event, was a terrible one, and might be thus stated: If Phileas Fogg was honest he was ruined; if he was a knave, he was caught.
Did escape occur to him? Did he examine to see if there were any practicable outlet from his prison? Did he think of escaping from it? Possibly; for once he walked slowly around the room. But the door was locked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods. He sat down again, and drew his journal from his pocket. On the line where these words were written, `December 21st, Saturday, Liverpool,' he added, `80th day, 11.40 a.m.,' and waited.
The Custom House clock struck one. Mr Fogg observed that his watch was two hours too fast.
Two hours！ Admitting that he was at this moment taking an express train; he could reach London and the Reform Club by a quarter before nine, P.M. His forehead slightly wrinkled.
At thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular noise outside, then a hasty opening of doors. Passepartout's voice was audible, and immediately after that of Fix. Phileas Fogg's eyes brightened for an instant.
The door swung open, and he saw Passepartout, Aouda and Fix, who hurried towards him.
Fix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder. He could not speak. `Sir,' he stammered, `Sir - forgive me - a most - unfortunate resemblance - robber arrested three days ago - you - are free！'
Phileas Fogg was free！ He walked to the detective, looked him steadily in the face, and with the only rapid motion he had ever made in his life, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with the precision of a machine, knocked Fix down.
`Well hit！' cried Passepartout. `Parbleu！ that's what you might call a good application of English fists！'
Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a word. He had only received his deserts. Mr Fogg, Aouda and Passepartout left the Custom House without delay, got into a cab, and in a few moments descended at the station.
Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leave for London. It was forty minutes past two. The express train had left thirty-five minutes before.
Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.
There were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the railway arrangements did not permit the special train to leave until three o'clock.
At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the engineer by the offer of a generous reward, at last set out towards London with Aouda and his faithful servant.
It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half; and this would have been easy on a clear road throughout. But there were forced delays, and when Mr Fogg stepped from the train at the terminus, all the clocks in London were striking ten minutes before nine.
Having made the tour of the world, he was behindhand five minutes. He had lost the wager！
斐利亚·福克被押起来了。他被关在利物浦海关大楼的一间屋子里。他得在那儿过一夜，等明天押往伦敦。
当福克先生被捕的时候，路路通要上去跟侦探拼命。但是来了几个警察把他拉开了。这件突如其来的暴行把艾娥达给吓怔了，她莫名其妙，一点也不明白是怎么回事。路路通把情况告诉了她。福克先生，这样一位正直、勇敢的绅士，她的救命恩人，居然被人当小偷抓起来了。年轻的夫人坚决地抗议这种污蔑。她非常气愤。当她觉得自己又无能为力的时候，她的眼泪不住地从脸上流了下来。
至于费克斯，他逮捕福克，那完全是因为职责所在，不得不这样作，可是，福克到底有没有罪，那将由法院来决定。
这时路路通忽然想起了一件事，这件事肯定是目前这一切不幸的根源！到底我为什么要一直对福克先生隐瞒住费克斯的身份呢？当费克斯对我说明了他是警察厅密探和他的任务的时候，为什么我一点也不告诉我主人呢？要是他事先知道了他一定会提出证据说明自己的身份，指出对方的误会；那样一来，福克先生决不会再为这个一心等待踏上英国领土，立即动手抓人的祸害精侦探出旅费了。而费克斯也就不会死跟在他后边了。可怜的小伙子一想到自己的这些错误和疏忽，就后悔得要死。他哭了。他痛苦万分，他恨不得一头撞死！他和艾娥达夫人不顾严寒的天气，还留在海关外面的走廊里，希望能再见福克先生一面。
至于这位绅上，他毫无疑问是完全垮了。他是在马上就要成功的时候垮了。这次可真把他弄得一败涂地，无法挽回了。12月21号十一点四十分到达了利物浦，离开八点四十五分他预定要回到改良俱乐部的时候还足有九个小时零四十五分，而坐火车到伦敦只需要六个小时。
这时谁要走进海关办事处的这间房子里，就会看见福克先生一动不动地坐在一张长凳上，安安静静地一点也不着急。虽然不能说他是“听天由命”，但是，至少在外表上，这个意外的打击确实没有使他惊慌失措。难道他现在还有必然胜利的把握吗？这一点谁也不知道。但福克确实是很安详地在那儿等待着……他在等什么呢？他还没死心吗？在他进了这间拘留室，就被锁在里面的时候，难道他还认为自己的旅行计划能胜利完成吗？
不管怎样，福克先生依然是把他的表规规矩矩地放到一张桌子上，看着表针在走动。他半句话也不说，他的目光非常集中，一动也不动。
总之，当前的情况是很可怕的。如果看不出福克内心深处的打算，这种情况就会使你得出这样的结论：
福克先生如果真是个正人君子，那他现在算是给毁了。
如果他真是小偷，那他现在已经是被逮住了。
他是不是打算逃跑？他是不是想在这屋里找条可逃的路？他想逃吗？人们也许可以这样怀疑他，因为他曾在屋子里兜了一个时候。但是门锁得很紧，窗子上都装着铁栏杆。结果他又坐下来了。他从皮夹里取出了他的旅行计划表，上面最后一行写着：“12 月21日，星期六到达利物浦。”他在“星期六”底下又接着写了下面几个字：“上午十一点四十分，第八十天。”
海关大楼的大钟敲了一点。福克先生对了一下自己的表，他的表快了两分钟。
打两点了！要是他现在能搭上快车，他还能在晚上八点四十五分之前到达伦敦，赶到改良俱乐部！他轻轻皱了皱眉头……
在两点三十三分的时候，只听外面一阵喧哗，接着传来开门的响声。斐利亚·福克听见路路通的声音，又听见了费克斯的声音，他的眼睛兴奋地闪动了一下。
屋门打开了，他看见了艾娥达夫人、路路通和费克斯朝他跑了过来。费克斯已经是上气不接下气了，头发乱得象一团麻线……连话也说不上来了！
“先生，”他结结巴巴地说，“先生……请——请您原谅……因为有个小偷太象您了……这家伙在三天之前已经被捕了……您……您现在没事儿了！……”
斐利亚·福克自由了！他走近了这个侦探，死盯着侦探的脸，他用很快的动作，这动作是他从来没有过的，也许在他一生中也是第一次，说时迟，那时快，他先把两臂向后一晃，非常准确地对着这个倒霉的密探狠狠地打了两拳。
“揍得好！”路路通叫着说，接着他又说了一句尖刻的俏皮话，他不愧是个法国人，他说：“喏，看见吗？这才真是那种有名的英国拳术表演呢！”
费克斯被打翻了，他一句话也没说，这是他自作自受自遭殃。福克先生、艾娥达夫人和路路通马上离开了海关，跳上了一辆马车，几分钟之后，就到了利物浦的车站。
斐利亚·福克打听有没有马上开往伦敦去的快车……这时已是两点四十分了……快车在三十五分钟之前已经开出去了。
斐利亚·福克这时就要租专车。
本来站上有几辆速度很高的机车，但是按照铁路规章，在三点钟以前不能开专车。
三点钟，斐利亚，福克跟司机说了几句话，许了他一笔奖金，福克先生带着艾娥达夫人和他的忠实仆人，坐着火车飞快地开往伦敦去了。火车必须在五个半小时之内跑完这一段从利物浦到伦敦的铁路，如果沿途不错车，能一直不停地开，赶到伦敦还是很可能的，但是路上偏偏又有些耽搁，当这位绅上到达终点车站时，伦敦市所有的大钟都指着九点差十分。斐利亚·福克完成了他的环绕地球的旅行，但是迟到了五分钟！……
他输了。