He did not give it a glance.
But his hand moved a little, the thin claw-like fingers closed on the note and scrunched it up; he made it into a little ball and then edging it onto his thumb flicked it into the air so that it fell among the jangling buzzards.
I turned my head instinctively and saw one of them seize it in his beak and fly off followed by two others screaming behind it.
When I looked back the man was gone.
I stayed three more days in Vera Cruz.
I never saw him again.