It's clear that you don't know how large the sum is." "Of course I do," returned Passepartout.

"Twenty thousand pounds." "Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman.

"Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds.

If you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them." "Help you ?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.
"Yes; help me keep Mr.Fogg here for two or three days." "Why, what are you saying?
Those gentlemen are not satisfied with following my master and suspecting his honour, but they must try to put obstacles in his way! I blush for them!" "What do you mean ?" "I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery.

They might as well waylay Mr.Fogg and put his money in their pockets!" "That's just what we count on doing." "It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more and more excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank without perceiving it.