leted 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 really in America," thought Passepartout, "and the
conductor is a gentleman of the first order!"

So muttering, he followed his master.

The two combatants, their seconds, and