"Yes." A change, swift as lightning, swept over Mannion's countenance. He was no longer cool and nonchalant, but keen, alert, on his guard. "What about it?"
"Nuffin', sah, on'y I sho' don' desiah fo' ter git inter no trubble 'bout dat bill."
"Get into trouble? How can you get into any trouble? The bill was all right, and, anyhow, you didn't change it. You gave it back to me."
"Dat's truf, sah, but de coppers done foun' hit an' days er keepin' hit. Dat's wat eatin' mah heart out, sah. Wat do de coppers want wid dat bill? Lucy Miranda—dat's mah ole woman—she say dat de bill is a hoodoo, an' dat I gotter hab dat young man wat gib hit ter me go git it an' take de hoodoo off."
Nick, looking at Mannion closely, thought he observed signs of perturbation.
"Have you spoken to any one about our transaction the other day?"
"No, sah. Ise bin erfraid ter speak, an' Lucy Miranda wouldn' tole de debble ef he was ter come in an' ast her."
Mannion drew a breath of relief. "I'll go down-town and get the bill," he said, "so don't bother your head about it any more. To tell the truth, I hadn't missed it, or I would have tried to find out what had become of it."
"De coppers foun' hit near de spot whar de killin' was done." said Nick, in an awed whisper.
Mannion regarded the false negro sharply, but any suspicion that might have entered his brain was dissipated at sight of the honest, disturbed countenance of the speaker.