The Sergeant looked at him sternly. "Your bed was not made this morning. You are lying to me."
"No, no lie. Bed not made flom day before. I make him myself."
The detective turned to Major Temple. "Is this fellow telling the truth?" he asked. "Does he make his own bed?"
"Yes," replied the Major. "The other servants refused to have anything to do with him. They are afraid to enter his room. He cares for it himself."
"What did you do in Exeter?" asked McQuade.
"P'laps talkee some, smokee some, eatee some—play fantan—bimby sleep."
"What's the matter with your hand?" asked the detective suddenly.
"Me cuttee hand, bloken bottle—Exeter."
"What kind of a bottle?"
"Whiskey bottle," answered Li Min, with a childlike smile.