“I am here to answer for myself,” he continued, in the same tone, while he looked as pale and resolute as Geoffrey himself, “but first I demand tidings of my—wife.”
That word was like a blow to Geoffrey, who staggered back with a groan of anguish.
But he quickly rallied.
“She is not your wife!” he said, fiercely; “a farce—an act of fraud, could never make her such.”
“You are a trifle premature in your statement,” retorted young Mapleson, with a sneer. “I do not deny that my purpose was accomplished by something of strategy, but it was accomplished, notwithstanding—Gladys Huntress was married to me to-night, and it is simply useless to contest the fact.”
“You may have gone through the marriage service with her; but you personated me, and it was only a mock ceremony. Besides, there were certain preliminaries to be attended to—your intentions made known—your certificate to be properly filled; without these there could have been no legal marriage,” Geoffrey returned, sternly.
Everet Mapleson smiled superciliously.
“All that you mention was most carefully attended to, sir,” he said, with an air of triumph that was simply maddening to his listeners. “The clergyman was duly apprised of my intentions, and received a handsome fee, fifteen minutes before the arrival of the bridal party at the church; the ring had been purchased and carefully marked and now adorns the hand of the bride. Not a single detail has been omitted, I assure you, to make my position and my claim secure.”
“Bah! your audacity is astounding!” said Geoffrey, contemptuously. “It was a barefaced fraud, and the marriage will never stand in law,” persisted Geoffrey, firmly, but oh! with such a sinking agony in his heart.
“Prove it if you can,” retorted Mapleson, arrogantly. “You will not find it an easy thing to do, however, for I shall make a desperate fight to thwart you.”