Phileas Fogg found fame, as you might well know, from his voyage that he made by going around the world in eighty days. I know about that voyage better than most, for I was with him – me, Jean Passepartout, the valet and, I rather hope, friend of this accomplished gentleman. Of course, it was Phileas Fogg who reaped the great rewards of this journey, for not only did he gain his wager of £20,000 – a princely sum, you might well say, and I would agree – but he won the hand in marriage of one of the most beautiful women I have ever set eyes on: Madame Aouda (as I call her – to Phileas Fogg she is but Aouda, for she is now his wife, and they love each other dearly).

But what became of me? I remain still in the service of Phileas Fogg, but, of course, he regards me not so much as a servant as a companion and – I dearly hope, comme j'ai dit – a friend. Yet still I get given a good deal of work: indeed, straight after our return to England I had a good deal of work to do, to make up for the gas that was burnt unnecessarily in a gaslight I left on.

Phileas Fogg, as you probably know, is an English gentleman, very proper, very phlegmatic – just the opposite to the image of a traveller and adventurer. Yet that is just what he is, and it seems to me that the Fogg who dines at the Reform Club and is so exact and punctual in his day-to-day actions is an entirely different man to the Fogg who decided on a whim (and with the incentive of £20,000) to circumnavigate the globe. But even now I can see a dash of the adventurous Fogg in him: he might manage to keep himself utterly composed, but I have noticed on more than one occasion a spark of something in his eye when I mention our trip, or when Mme Aouda talks to him of India or other Eastern lands – every time he hears of travelling, or of other nations, he seems to breathe in sharply and twitch his usually unmoving eyebrows.

My suspicion that he wanted to travel again was confirmed when one day he summoned me to the lounge in which he and Mme Aouda were seated, and asked me this:

'How did you find America when we were there?'

I could hardly reply that being captured by Indians and nearly killed by them had been a somewhat rattling experience. Phileas Fogg already had his Atlas open and was scrutinising it. From where I was sitting, it appeared that he desired to visit the north-eastern part, for this was the map he studied so intently.

'I like well the civilised parts,' I replied, though it had been only relief that I had felt when we had come to the cities and civilisation of the east.

'I wonder, Passepartout –' and here he stopped, following something on the map with his finger. 'I thought that I might go again – to the eastern states.' My thoughts were confirmed. 'I sense that our brief taste of New York might not have been sufficient – and as for the rest of the country –'

I did not say anything, for I knew that his mind was already made up; and de toute façon, who was I to object?

'Very well,' said Phileas Fogg without waiting for an answer. 'Prepare our bags; we leave on Thursday.'

It being then Tuesday, I could not help looking astonished. Mme Aouda smiled slightly, and stood; she nodded to me. 'We seem to have shocked our friend here, my dear,' she said. 'Mr Passepartout, I assure you that Phileas is more organised than he seems. We had planned this trip before now.'

Yet I had not been told of it, and I felt more than a little resentment because of this; nevertheless, I said nothing and went then to my task.