"Rich," he murmured; "rich, rich! I'm rich! A hundred thousand crowns!" "My friend, I'm not in the position to dispute with you on that subject," said Maurice, smiling.

He rapped the stein again.
The sleeper raised his head and stared stupidly, "Rich, aye, rich!" He was still in half a dream.

"Rich, I say!" "Hang it, I'm not arguing on that," Maurice laughed.
The other swung upright at this, his round, oily face sodden, his black eyes blinking.

He threw off the stupor when he saw that it was a man and not the shadow of one.
"Who the devil are you ?" he asked, thickly.
Maurice seldom forgot a face.

He recognized this one.