"Sam Wing," said the king of the motor boys severely, "you're a mighty bad Chinaman."
"Me savvy," answered Wing, whose English was far from being as good as the mandarin's.
"You stole the ruby from Tsan Ti," went on Matt.
Sam Wing had strength enough left to show some surprise.
"How you savvy?" he inquired.
"I know it, and that's enough. You're a treacherous scoundrel to turn against the mandarin as you did."
"All same," answered Sam Wing, in extreme dejection. "Ten thousand demons makee heap tlouble fol Wing. Me plenty solly."
"You ought to be sorry. Tsan Ti trusted you with his money and had a lot of confidence in you. And you betrayed that confidence."
Sam Wing groaned heavily and caressed his numerous bruises. One of his hands finally reached the breast of his torn blouse, and he fished from it a very wet alligator-skin pouch.
"Here Tsan Ti's money," said he, offering the pouch to Matt. "Me velly bad Chinaman. You takee money, lettee Sam Wing go?"