On December 17 the real bank robber was arrested.
On that day London opinion changed for the second time since the wager had begun—this time in Mr. Fogg's favor.
The papers, which had presented him as a criminal, reported him an honorable gentleman again.
They resumed their discussion about the wager, and once again, bets were placed.
December 17 was the seventy-sixth day of the eighty-day race.
Mr. Fogg's five friends at the Reform Club passed the remaining days in suspense.
During the time when everyone thought he was a thief, Mr. Fogg's friends had not expected him to return.
Now they realized the wager was still on. Where was Mr. Fogg?
No news had been received from him.
Was he dead? Had he given up? Was he continuing his journey?
A huge crowd collected outside the Reform Club on the evening of Saturday, December 21.
Traffic was interrupted, and arguments, discussions, and last-minute bets excited the crowd.
As the hour approached when Phileas Fogg was due, the excitement rose to its highest pitch.
The five friends waited in the great saloon of the club.
When the clock indicated twenty minutes past eight, one member said, "What time did the last train arrive from Liverpool?"
"At twenty-three minutes past seven," another answered.
"Well, gentlemen, if Phileas Fogg had come on the 7:23 train, he would have gotten here by now.
We can, therefore, regard the bet as won."
"Wait. Let us not be too hasty. Mr. Fogg is an eccentric man.
His punctuality is well known. He never arrives too soon or too late.
I will not be surprised if he appears here at the last minute."
Soon the hands on the clock pointed to twenty minutes to nine.
"Five more minutes," someone noted.
The five gentlemen looked at each other. Their anxiety was becoming intense.
The clock advanced to eighteen minutes to nine.
Then to seventeen minutes to nine. They all fell silent.
Only the murmurs of the crowd outside could be heard.
"Sixteen minutes to nine," one of the gentlemen noted.
One more minute and the wager would be won.
At the fifty-fifth second, a loud cry was heard from the street, followed by applause and cheers.
The five men rose from their seats.
At the fifty-seventh second, the door of the saloon opened.
Phileas Fogg stepped in, followed by an excited crowd that forced its way through the club doors.
In his usual calm voice, Mr. Fogg said, "Here I am, gentlemen."
Yes, Phileas Fogg had won the bet. But how?
Well, as instructed, Passepartout had hurried to Reverend Wilson's house.
He was not at home, and Passepartout waited twenty minutes before the reverend strolled up to the door.
They exchanged only a few words when Passepartout turned and ran as fast as he could!
He leaped over vendors' carts, knocked over pedestrians, and in three minutes, was at Saville Row again.
"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"My master . . . marriage . . . impossible . . ." Passepartout gasped.
"Impossible?" asked Fogg.
"Impossible for tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Because tomorrow is not Monday!" cried Passepartout.
"Tomorrow is Sunday, and today is Saturday! We have made a mistake.
There are only ten minutes left! You must go!"
Passepartout then grabbed his master's collar and dragged him out of the house.
Mr. Fogg jumped into a cab and promised the cabman a hundred pounds.
Ignoring the whistles of five traffic police and causing three accidents, the cabman delivered Fogg and his friends at the Reform Club.
At a quarter before nine, Phileas Fogg had walked into the great saloon and won his wager!
But where had he miscalculated? The cause of the error was simple.
Phileas Fogg had been traveling constantly eastward.
In journeying eastward he had gone toward the sun.
Therefore, each day was shortened by four minutes for every degree of longitude he crossed.
The circumference of the earth is measured in 360 degrees.
Three hundred and sixty degrees multiplied by four is exactly 24 hours.
Without realizing it Fogg had gained a day.
That evening Mr. Fogg, as tranquil as ever, said to Aouda, "Is our marriage still agreeable to you?"
"It is for me to ask that question," she said.
"You were ruined, but now you are rich again."
"Pardon me, madam," said Fogg. "But my fortune belongs to you.
If you had not suggested our marriage, Passepartout would not have gone to the reverend's house—"
"Dear Mr. Fogg!" she stopped him.
"Dear Aouda!" he replied with his whole heart.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda were married 48 hours later.
Passepartout, glowing with pride, gave the bride away.
Mr. Fogg had traveled around the world in eighty days.
He had employed every means of vehicle, from trains and steamers to elephants and sledges.
In the end he was no richer than when he set out. No richer?
Perhaps, but he had gained a love that made him the happiest of men!
Would you not travel around the world for a chance at the same?
Hooray! Mr. Fogg won his wager! Thank goodness for those funny lines on maps—longitude and latitude.
On a map, time zones are marked by lines of longitude.
The lines divide the globe into sections, or time zones.
Each section is one hour ahead of the section to its west and one hour behind the one to its east.
Look closely at the map. Can you see the lines that run across the globe east to west?
They are called lines of latitude. Do you know the most famous line of latitude?
I'll give you a clue. It's very hot there. That's right–the equator!
The equator runs right around the middle of the earth.
Well, I must say good-bye to you now.
I hope you've enjoyed traveling with Mr. Fogg and me around the world—it's been quite an adventure, hasn't it?