Stopping before the bunk of Stacy he glanced at the sleeping man.

He was lying on his back, but breathing heavily, and his hands were moving towards his chest as if, indeed, his strange fancy of the golden incubus were being realized.

Demorest would have wakened him, but presently, with a sigh of relief, the sleeper turned over on his side.
It was pleasanter to look at Barker, whose damp curls were matted over his smooth, boyish forehead, and whose lips were parted in a smile under the silken wings of his brown mustache.

He, too, seemed to be trying to speak, and remembering some previous revelations which had amused them, Demorest leaned over him fraternally with an answering smile, waiting for the beloved one's name to pass the young man's lips.

But he only murmured, "Three--hundred--thousand dollars!" The elder man turned away with a grave face.