He nodded at the bills. “That isn’t money, mister,” he said, “and if you’re trying to skin me, you won’t get very far,” and he glanced at the cash drawer beside him. Of course the money was old-style bills, half again as big as the money we use nowadays, and different-looking. I turned away and got out fast. There’s nothing nice about jail, even in 1894.
Why did the narrator turn away and get out fast?
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