That very morning Fogg had taken a new servant, a Frenchman called Passepartout. He was a strong, honest fellow of thirty, who had been a fireman and a gymnast, and who wanted a quiet life at last. "You are late by four minutes," Fogg had told him. "I take you into my service." At eight in the evening Fogg came home again. "We are going round the world," he said. "We leave in ten minutes." Passepartout could not believe it. He looked at his master's face and saw that he was serious. They took no trunks: only a carpet bag with two shirts, three pairs of stockings, and twenty thousand pounds in banknotes. On the way to the station a poor woman was begging with a child in her arms, and Fogg gave her the money he had just won at cards. Then the train moved off into the night, and Passepartout suddenly remembered that he had left the gas burning in his room.