Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel Proctor. Stamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognised each other at once. “Ah! it’s you, is it, Englishman?” cried the colonel; “it’s you who are going to play a spade!” “And who plays it,” replied Phileas Fogg coolly, throwing down the ten of spades. “Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds,” replied Colonel Proctor, in an insolent tone. He made a movement as if to seize the card which had just been played, adding, “You don’t understand anything about whist.” “Perhaps I do, as well as another,” said Phileas Fogg, rising. “You have only to try, son of John Bull,” replied the colonel.
Aouda turned pale, and her blood ran cold.
She seized Mr. Fogg’s arm and gently pulled him back. Passepartout was ready to pounce upon the American, who was staring insolently at his opponent. But Fix got up, and, going to Colonel Proctor said, “You forget that it is I with whom you have to deal, sir; for it was I whom you not only insulted, but struck!” “Mr. Fix,” said Mr. Fogg, “pardon me, but this affair is mine, and mine only.
The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting that I should not play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it.” “When and where you will,” replied the American, “and with whatever weapon you choose.” Aouda in vain attempted to retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the detective endeavour to make the quarrel his. Passepartout wished to throw the colonel out of the window, but a sign from his master checked him. Phileas Fogg left the car, and the American followed him upon the platform. “Sir,” said Mr. Fogg to his adversary, “I am in a great hurry to get back to Europe, and any delay whatever will be greatly to my disadvantage.”
“Well, what’s that to me?” replied Colonel Proctor. “Sir,” said Mr. Fogg, very politely, “after our meeting at San Francisco, I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I had completed the business which called me to England.” “Really!” “Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?” “Why not ten years hence?” “I say six months,” returned Phileas Fogg; “and I shall be at the place of meeting promptly.” “All this is an evasion,” cried Stamp Proctor.
“Now or never!” “Very good. You are going to New York?” “No.” “To Chicago?” “No.” “To Omaha?” “What difference is it to you? Do you know Plum Creek?” “No,” replied Mr. Fogg. “It’s the next station. The train will be there in an hour, and will stop there ten minutes. In ten minutes several revolver-shots could be exchanged.” “Very well,” said Mr. Fogg. “I will stop at Plum Creek.” “And I guess you’ll stay there too,” added the American insolently. “Who knows?” replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as usual. He began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were never to be feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching duel, a request which the detective could not refuse. Mr. Fogg resumed the interrupted game with perfect calmness. At eleven o’clock the locomotive’s whistle announced that they were approaching Plum Creek station. Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by Fix, went out upon the platform. Passepartout accompanied him, carrying a pair of revolvers.
Aouda remained in the car, as pale as death. The door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the platform, attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second. But just as the combatants were about to step from the train, the conductor hurried up, and shouted, “You can’t get off, gentlemen!” “Why not?” asked the colonel. “We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop.” “But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman.” “I am sorry,” said the conductor; “but we shall be off at once. There’s the bell ringing now.” The train started. “I’m really very sorry, gentlemen,” said the conductor. “Under any other circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you. But, after all, as you have not had time to fight here, why not fight as we go along?” “That wouldn’t be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman,” said the colonel, in a jeering tone. “It would be perfectly so,” replied Phileas Fogg. “Well, we are