“I—do—not know, of course; but——”
“You do not know!” interrupted the young Southerner. “Why, you surely ought to be able to trace his genealogy, since he is your nephew.”
“But he is not my nephew.”
“How?”
“I never saw the boy until about eight years ago.”
Everet Mapleson turned a look of blank astonishment upon his companion, while a strange pallor settled over his own face.
Mr. Huntress then related to him the circumstances which brought Geoffrey to his notice, telling of his unaccountable interest in him, of the experiment which had resulted in the restoration of the boy’s reason, and of his subsequent adoption of the lad.
Everet Mapleson grew very grave as he listened, and a hundred conflicting thoughts came crowding into his mind.
Could it be possible, after all, that this young man whom he had so disliked, and was fast learning to hate from a feeling of jealousy, was in some mysterious way connected with the proud family of Mapleson?
He did not know of a relative by that name, and yet there might be.