“Not very, Wing, for you have been severely punished.”
“Wing nevah do so no mo’e.”
“That’s right,” said Blunt, who hurried away as soon as he had seen the injured man lying comfortably; and Stan was about to follow, but Wing caught his sleeve and signed to him to bend down.
“Young Lynn know who shot Wing?” he whispered.
“Yes,” said the lad frankly.
“Young Lynn tell Wing.”
“Yes, some day,” replied the lad, who felt the blood flush to his face, but it was now so dark in the office with the blocked-up windows and the coming night that the questioner could not see.
“Young Lynn tell Wing some day. Wing betteh now. Thought bloken allee piecee. Not bloken allee piecee. Don’t ca’e mandalin button now.”
“That’s right,” said Stan. “Look, they’re bringing you some bread and tea. Think you can eat and drink?”
“Velly much indeed,” said the Chinaman.