Geoffrey sank upon a chair, his strength all gone, while a dim suspicion of the horrible truth began to take form in his mind.
“What can you mean?” he gasped, hardly above a whisper, a deadly pallor on his face, an agonized look in his eyes.
“Be calm, my boy,” said his uncle, laying his hand affectionately upon his shoulder. “A dreadful thing has occurred, but it was all a farce—a fraud, rather—which the law will set right in time, and Gladys may yet be yours——”
“Heavens! Uncle August, you are driving me mad! Explain! explain! I cannot bear these enigmas!” cried the poor fellow, springing to his feet in a fearful state of agitation, while a cold perspiration started out all over his face.
Mr. Huntress gently forced him back into his chair and began at once to tell him all that had occurred, from the moment of the departure of the bridal party from the church, up to the present hour.
Geoffrey sat throughout the fearful recital as if he had suddenly been turned to stone, and when at last it was concluded, there were several moments of dreadful silence. He seemed paralyzed, mentally and physically, by the blighting affliction which had overtaken him, and by the bold daring of the enemy who had thus ruined his dearest hopes.
Agony, however, at last broke the spell.
He arose, and stood pale and stern before his uncle.
“Where is he?” he demanded, in an awful voice, although it was barely audible, “where is that treacherous villain who has robbed me of my wife and broken her heart? Tell me, for there must be a terrible settlement between him and me. Where is Everet Mapleson, Uncle August?”
“Here!” responded a defiant voice close beside them, and, wheeling suddenly about at the sound, Geoffrey saw his rival standing between the parted draperies that separated the alcove from the main hall.