Until he could produce legal evidence of his uncle's death, he was a penniless outcast--and as soon as he produced it he had lost the tontine! There was no hesitation on the part of Morris; to drop the tontine like a hot chestnut, to concentrate all his forces on the leather business and the rest of his small but legitimate inheritance, was the decision of a single instant.

And the next, the full extent of his calamity was suddenly disclosed to him.
Declare his uncle's death?
He couldn't! Since the body was lost Joseph had (in a legal sense) become immortal.
There was no created vehicle big enough to contain Morris and his woes.
He paid the hansom off and walked on he knew not whither.
'I seem to have gone into this business with too much precipitation,' he reflected, with a deadly sigh.

'I fear it seems too ramified for a person of my powers of mind.' And then a remark of his uncle's flashed into his memory: If you want to think clearly, put it all down on paper.

'Well, the old boy knew a thing or two,' said Morris.

'I will try; but I don't believe the paper was ever made that will clear my mind.' He entered a place of public entertainment, ordered bread and cheese, and writing materials, and sat down before them heavily.