To visit the city might be indispensable; but what was he to do when he was there?
He had no right to sign in his own name; and, with all the will in the world, he seemed to lack the art of signing with his uncle's.

Under these circumstances, Morris could do nothing to procrastinate the crash; and, when it came, when prying eyes began to be applied to every joint of his behaviour, two questions could not fail to be addressed, sooner or later, to a speechless and perspiring insolvent.
Where is Mr Joseph Finsbury?
and how about your visit to the bank?
Questions, how easy to put!--ye gods, how impossible to answer! The man to whom they should be addressed went certainly to gaol, and--eh! what was this ?--possibly to the gallows.

Morris was trying to shave when this idea struck him, and he laid the razor down.

Here (in Michael's words) was the total disappearance of a valuable uncle; here was a time of inexplicable conduct on the part of a nephew who had been in bad blood with the old man any time these seven years; what a chance for a judicial blunder! 'But no,' thought Morris, 'they cannot, they dare not, make it murder.

Not that.