Seksen Günde Devriâlem

In the year 1872, the house at number 7 Savile Row in London belonged to Mr. Phileas Fogg. He was one of the most noticeable members of the Reform Club, although he seemed to do everything he could to avoid being noticed. Nobody knew very much about him. He was an Englishman, that much was certain. He was handsome and tall, with a calm face, fair hair and a fine beard. People guessed that he was about forty years old.

Was he rich? Without doubt. But how he had made his money, not even his best-informed neighbours could say. He was never seen at the stock exchange or at the bank. He did not own ships, and he was not a merchant or a farmer. He was not a lawyer either, nor a doctor. He belonged to no society except the Reform Club, and that was all.

He did not spend much, but he was not mean. Whenever money was needed for a good cause, he gave it quietly and without fuss. He spoke as little as possible, and his silence made him seem even more mysterious. Yet his life was completely open. He did the same things every day at exactly the same times, so that people who wanted to know more about him could only wonder.