Richard took them in his fingers. The filling up was in madam's handwriting: the signature apparently in Mr. North's.
"Do you give Mrs. North blank cheques ready signed, sir?"
"No, never, Dick. I was cured of that, years ago. When she wants money, I sometimes let her fill in the cheque, but I never sign it beforehand."
"And you think you have not signed these?"
"Think! I know I have not. She has imitated my signature, and got the money."
Richard's face grew dark with shame; shame for his stepmother. But that Mr. North was her husband, it would have been downright forgery. Probably the law, if called upon, might have accounted it so now. He took time for consideration.
"Father, I think--pardon me for the suggestion--I think you had better let your private account be passed over to me. Allow it to lie in my name; and make my signature alone available--just as it is with our business account. I see no other safe way."
"With all my heart; and be glad to do it," acquiesced Mr. North, "but there's no account to pass. There's no account to pass, Dick; it's overdrawn."