Aorund the World.

Western Star, Issue 1349, 27 April 1889, Page 2 (Supplement)

Aorund the World.

That part of fashionable Paris which never fails to attend first representations, little dreamed, Nov. 17 lest, on the revival of “ Around the World in Eighty Days,” that theyi were not quite up to the times. ’Twas really so, however. That very morning the legendary Phineas Fogg had been beaten, outdone and shelved as one who had outlived bis usefulness. And by whom? By a simple Parisian dude, by our friend Lojiis Yernet, a sympathetic boulevardier, but a person of but little consequence. Eccentric Albion steps down from her pedestal and another legend is oast to the winds. This is bow it happened: About three months 'ago, in the smoking room of a cafe on the boulevard, Louis Yernet was reading the theatrical news on’the fourth page of a newspaper. ' “ Hello ! what is this?” exclaimed he, suddenly. “ Well I declare; they are sickening with their ‘ Around the World in,Eighty Days I’ Why, they will soon be*, trying to have us believe it was the thirteenth labour of Hercules 1” “A nd still, sir,” replied a voice with a broad English accent, that of a person unknown to Louis Yernet, “ it was, most assuredly a great feat. The best proof that it was an undertaking of some conquence is that the amusing French writer had to make one of my countrymen the hero that suoceded in accomplishing it.” Louis Yernet turned his head around and coolly replied : “ Well, for my part, I maintain that your Phineas Fogg was as slow as a turtle, and would be willing to bet that I could do better chan ho I” Ton ’ would go round the world in—?” “ Let’s say seventy days, if you wish I ’ “I’ll bet yon that you can’t do it.” , : “ What, will yon wager P" ‘ “ One hundred thousand francs.” Louis Yernet scratched his head. “ One hundred thousand francs,” said he. “ I haven’t that sum with me, nor at home, either, for that matter. But if you will kindly give me until to-morrow evening Twill see some of my friends who will probably back me up, and then I shall be yours to command.” The stranger bowed, handed Lonis Yernet bis card, and the two men took Ibave of each other.

This is why on Wednesday, November tfie ' 16th, Lotus Yernet gave a sigh of satisfaction as he set foot upon tne quay at Havre. He had left Paris on the Bth of September and he had to be back at noon on the 17th November. He had wasted no time in travelling, and it was with no little anxiety that on the 9th of November he had embarked at New York on the Marsouin. Would they reach Havre on the 16th as everyone said they would? There were many chances against it. The least obstacle,.the slightest flaw in the machinery and all was lost. But the Marsouin upheld her reputation as the best French transatlantic steamer. At the stated hour she was moored to the docks at Havre, having crossed the Atlantic in less than seven days. The gallant vessel, after this furious race, seemed happy to have a chance to rest, and the engines, as if fatigued by the exertions they had been malting, bellowed as they blew off the steam, now no longer needed, while the foot bridge discharged :■ upon the quay a long stream of passengers and porters carrying their baggage. Louis Yernet turned around and cast a look of gratitude upon the noble steamer. He looked at his watch. Pour o’clock ! He had ample j,lime to dine comfortably before taking the 6:40 express, which would land him in Paris at 11:30 o’clock. Was that right ? He looked at his time table. As he ran over the columns of figures a smile flitted across his lips. •“ After all, why not? What is the use of going this evening, anyhow. It will look as if I were afraid of being behind time 1 No style about that, old man, no style at all 1 The chic, the pschutt, the v v lan, is io arrive as late as one can, at the last minute, if possible. Thai’s the way. artists do, when they want to make a great hit. Now, there is a train leaving in the morning, at 6:55, by which I will get to the St.W«Zare depot at 11 ;30. Our rendezvous is'fixed for 12 o’clock, in the office of the Semaphore, just behind the Exchange. From the station to the Exchange will take me but eight minutes in the first hack I come across. Therefore there is nothing to prevent my reaching the French Semaphore office at 12 o’clock sharp. In this way I shall have all that are interested in the bet on the tiptoe of expectation until the very last minute. (That,settles it; I will not start until tomorrQw.’’ Louis Yernet bad his trunks taken to the Crowned Hog hotel, the principal house in Havre. He dined quietly, and after his meal he smoked a good cigar .while taking a walk about town. At 10 he returned to the hotel to. go to bed. “ Monsieur,” said he to the landlord before retiring, “ I have to leave in the morning by,the 6:55 train. Will yon promise to,have me awakened in time?'’ •* We have for that purpose a trusty ■waiter,” replied the landlord. “ Monsieur may sleep on both ears. He will not miss his train.” “ Nevertheless if you have an alarm clock that you can lead me I would feel more at ease.” ' “ Why, certainly, sir. There is but one in the house —my own. You may have it.” Louis Yernet thanked the host and went up stairs to his room. He set the alarm for six o’clock, placed the clock on the oheffoniernear the head of his bed and slept the sleep of the just. He was still sound asleep when some-body-shook his arm. “ Bh I sir 1" “ What? what is the matter?” “ The matter is that you just have time ” “ Time for what ? ’ To reach the station.” > Louis Yernet glanced at the the alarm clock. “ Half past, six!” cried he, in a voice of consternation. He sprang from his bed, so hastily that be overturned the ofaeffonier, slipped on his pantaloons, drew off his nightshirt and threw it on the floor, dressed himself in five minutes, gathered up his scattered effects in a jiffy, strapped his trunk, flew down the stairs, four steps at a time, leaped into the omnibus which awaited him, and only breathed freely when he boarded (he train,

Phew 1 that was a scare! And to say that five minutes later his bet would have been lost. Frankly speaking it would have been too stupid on his part. Anyhow, all is well that ends well. He had his ticket, his baggage was cheeked, he was comfortably seated in a good compartment, the locomotive sounded its whistle and the train moved off. Now for Paris 1 The steel rails clatter beneath the car wheels. The Havre train has just entered the depot. It is exactly half past eleven. All goes well. Louis Yernet leaves the oar, hails a hackman and finds that he still has ample time to get his trunk. Why, what luck 1 there it is now in the hands of two baggage masters who carry it with the greatest care. Gracious 1 how gently they handle it. What miscreant has so 'jalumniated railroad companies and their employes, as to say that they were reckless with baggage? Louis Yernet draws near, puts his hand on the trunk and addressing the porters : “ Take it right away,” said he. “ Here is my pheok.” He had hardly pronounced the words when he [felt a heavy hand grasp his shoulder. He turned and saw that it was a police officer that was taking a great deal of liberty. “Eh what’s the matter ?” ejaculated ithe astonished traveller. Behind the officer were two employes of the company, standing up straight as (two pickets under their gold laced caps. “What’s the'matter ?” replied the genidarme in a bantering tone, without moving a finger ; “ that you will soon find iOUt.” The two railroad employes drew near ithe trunk, craned their necks, listened a imoment, raised their heads and gazed at ieaoh other with a look that seemed to say: '“ There is no doubting it 1” Louis Yernet thought to himself: “ It iis plain these persons are crazy 1” Then ia horrible thought surged through his i brain. Crazy or, not, the one sure thing was that it was 11:40, and that he had but twenty minutes in which to reach ithe Semaphore office. He must escape by all means I He roughly shook off the ! detaining hand, upset three or four persons and rushed to the gate. Vain hopes! Two custom officers standing there seized him by the collar,, and, notwithstanding ibis protests and gesticulations, he was ’taken back to his trunk.

“ This is madness,” cried he. “ Let ime go! I swear that I will return in an (hour. You are making me lose one (hundred thousand francs.” A bitter smile flitted across the gendarme’s lips, beneath his heavy mustache. (He retook possession of his prisoner, •with both hands this time—one on each (shoulder.

“ Come now,” said one of the railroad employes, “ playing off is useless. Acknowledge all. You arrive from New York, with a mysterious hurried air. (That is not natural. And this suspicious trunk ! Who are you ? What are your opinions ?” Louis Yernet was inspired. “ At the last election,” replied he, “ I (voted for the candidate of the Left Centre, and l am a subscriber to The Debats I” This declaration made in a tone of sincerity produced a slight revulsion of sentiment in the traveller’s favour. “ Well, what does your trunk contain?’’ asked the gold laced employe. “ Clothing, nothing else I assure you.” “Are there no explosive materials in it?” “ Explosive materials ! What for, I am neither a chemist nor a pyrotechnist !*’ “ What is that singular noise, then? Ah 1 you are silent. Well, since you wdl not speak, I shall answer for you. There is in your trunk a machine, regulated by clock-work, which at a fixed hour, is to cause an explosion. In London, the day before yesterday, the police arrested four Anarchists with similar machines. You are one of the same gang I ’ Louis Yernet’s eyes grew round with stupidity. He stooped over his trunk, iand his eyes grew rounder still. Tio-tao, tic-tao 1 Ah 1 but he must surely be dreaming now 1 All at once a noisy jangle resounded. The signal for the explosion to take place, it was plain. Look oat for the bomb! Porters and employes scattered in every direction. The police officer himself was not left behind in the panic. Yernet, alone, heroically stood at his post. With a feverish hand he opened his trunk. His fingers rummaged about under the clothing, probing, feeling, and upsetting everything. Suddenly he touched a hard substance wrapped up in his nightshirt. What is this? Louis Yernet raises his arm, brandishing—the alarm clock of the Crowned Dog hotel, which in his hurry, he had thrown into the trunk, and which had sprung its alarm six hours behind time I „ , . , “ Confounded trumpery I exclaimed he furiously, as he dashed it to the floor. A peal of Homerio laughter burst on his ear. But the unfortunate traveller glanced at the depot clock. Eight minutes to 12 ! With lowered head like a wild boar that had scented the dogs, he dashed forward, rushed through the gate, leaped into a cab, and yelled to the driver. “Place de la Bourse ! I’ll give you a louis if we arrive before twelve.” Seven and one-half minutes later a cab rolling at lightening speed issued from Notre Dame street. A man got down, rushed through a doorway, flew up a staircase and burst like a storm into the French Semaphore office. “ Here lam I” Just at that moment the Exchange clock sounded the first stroke of 12.

“ I have lost, sir I” coolly answered a roice with a broad English accent. This is why, since Nov. 17 last, Phineas Fogg has taken a back seat.—Translated from the French of Joseph Montet.