Mannion did not say anything for a few moments. Then he asked this question, in what was meant to be a careless manner: "Have you heard any talk about the bill—that is, any talk in connection with the place where it was found?"
"Yes, sah, I hab," replied Nick hesitatingly, as he cast down his eyes and fumbled with his hat. "Ise heard a heap o' talk. Some say dat de man wat drapped dat bill is sho' 'sponsible fo' de murder." Before Mannion could open his mouth Nick went on: "Yo' los' dat bill, sah, an' yo' sho' gotter fine dat killer else de coppers may git after yo', sah."
"Come inside," said Mannion, his face now as pale as death. Nick entered and the door was closed. "Now be seated and tell me every word you have heard. This—this is terrible"—meeting Nick's look of innocent inquiry—"that the man who found that bill, which I carelessly dropped, should be the murderer the officers are looking for."
The great detective had come to Mannion's room in pursuance of a definite plan, which he had not seen fit to divulge to any one. He might have told both Chick and Patsy, for they were to be trusted; but every detective is human, and Nick may be pardoned for desiring to give his assistants a surprise. Ever since he had looked upon the dead face of the murdered man, he had had a card up his sleeve. In examining the neck upon which the marks of cruel fingers were discernible, he had made two important discoveries—first, that the marks on the right side of the neck were heavier than those on the left side; second, that between the first and second marks, the first being that of the thumb, was a space of twice the width of each of the other spaces.
It is the business of a detective who hopes to make a success of his vocation to seize upon what to the layman would appear as the slightest trifles. Nick Carter's eyes, trained to see every point that would aid him in the investigation of a criminal case, had let nothing escape him when he entered the morgue. Now, seated in front of Arthur Mannion, he knew that he was in the presence of the murderer of James Playfair.
The heavy finger-marks on the right side of Playfair's neck showed to the expert that the murderer was not only left-handed, but that the muscular power of the two hands and arms had been reversed from the ordinary. Once, while the talk was going on at the door, Mannion had shown that he was left-handed. Twice since entering the room he had made a similar exhibition. He had raised the window with his left hand, and with his left hand he dragged from a corner a heavy Morris chair.
But the most damning discovery was, that half of the forefinger of the left hand was missing. It was not a deformity, as Nick could plainly see. The finger had been amputated at the middle joint.
"Why don't you speak?" Mannion said irritably, for Nick, lost in his reflections, had not answered promptly the question that had been put to him.
"Oh, yo' wan' me ter say wat de udder pe'ple say. Dat hit, sah?"
"Yes, yes."