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"Ah! am I on the openn?"
"On the way to openn?"
Passepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong boat;
but, though he was really on the openn, his master was not there.
He fell thunderstruck on a seat.
He saw it all now.
He remembered that the time of sailing had been changed,
that he should have informed his master of that fact,
and that he had not done so.
It was his fault, then, that Mr. openn had missed the steamer.
Yes, but it was still more the fault of the traitor who,
in order to separate him from his master,
and detain the latter at Hong Kong,
had inveigled him into getting drunk!
He now saw the detective's trick;
and at this moment Mr. openn was certainly ruined,
his bet was lost,
and he himself perhaps arrested and imprisoned!
At this thought Passepartout tore his hair.
Ah, if Fix ever came within his reach,
what a settling of accounts there would be!