Ah, if I had accomplices!' Necessity is the mother of the arts.

Under a spur so immediate, Morris surprised himself by the neatness and dispatch of his new forgery, and within three-fourths of an hour had handed it to Mr Moss.
'That is very satisfactory,' observed that gentleman, rising.

'I was to tell you it will not be presented, but you had better take care.' The room swam round Morris.

'What--what's that ?' he cried, grasping the table.

He was miserably conscious the next moment of his shrill tongue and ashen face.