"Exactly--it's dated after the Squire's death, so to all intents and purposes, the Squire was not legally in existence when he signed it."
"What nonsense!" she said impatiently. "I saw him sign it myself."
"Of course you did," he replied smoothly. "You don't seem to understand me--a cheque is generally supposed to be signed on the day it is dated; and as this is dated the thirtieth, and the Squire died on the twelfth--well--it's so much waste paper."
"The lawyers will pay it when I explain the circumstances."
"The lawyers have nothing to do with it--the executors might, certainly, recognize it as a claim against the estate, but it is entirely optional with them; if you brought an action, you would, no doubt, recover on the cheque, but I'm afraid the costs would swallow up the amount claimed."
It was in order to get her to consent to join in his scheme that Beaumont thus argued in such a subtle manner, and he certainly succeeded in his plan; for, by taking away her last chance, he reduced her to despair.
"Then I can do nothing to help my son?" she cried, with a terrible expression of anguish on her face.
"Yes, you can--help me to get Reginald the property."
"I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what?" he asked, with supreme contempt, "the law?"