Hearing that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life
was one of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed
from home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after.
He presented himself, and was accepted, as has been seen.

At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in
the house in Saville Row. He begun its inspection without delay,
scouring it from cellar to garret. So clean, well-arranged,
solemn a mansion pleased him ; it seemed to him like a snail's shell,
lighted and warmed by gas, which sufficed for both these purposes.
When Passepartout reached the second story he recognised at once
the room which he was to inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it.
Electric bells and speaking-tubes afforded communication with
the lower stories; while on the mantel stood an electric clock,
precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's bedchamber, both beating
the same second at the same instant. "That's good, that'll do,"
said Passepartout to himself.

He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon inspection,
proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house.
It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the morning,
exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past eleven,
when he left the house for the Reform Club--all the details of service,
the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water
at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before ten.
Everything was regulated and foreseen that was to be done from
half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at which the
methodical gentleman retired.

Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste.