“And she bore all this?”
“I don't know what you mean by bearing it. She did not stab him. Some say that Hawke was mad, but I never thought so. He had boastful fits at times, in which he would vaunt all his villanies, and tell you of the infamies he had done with this man and that; but they were purely the emanations of an intense vanity, which left him unable to conceal anything. Imagine, for instance, his boasting how he had done the 'Globe' office out of ten thousand, insured on his first wife's life,—drowned when bathing. I heard the story from his own lips, and I 'll never forget his laugh as he said, 'I 'd have been in a hole if Mary had n't.'”
“That was madness, depend on 't.”
“No; I think not. It was partly vanity, for he delighted above all things to create an effect, and partly a studied plan to exercise an influence by actual terror, in which he had a considerable success. I could tell you of a score of men who would not have dared to thwart him; and it was at last downright desperation drove Tom Towers and Wake to”—he hesitated, faltered, and, in a weak voice, added,—“to do it!”
“How was it brought about?” whispered Stocmar, cautiously.
Paten took out his cigar-case, selected a cigar with much care, lighted it, and, after smoking for some seconds, began: “It all happened this way: we met one night at that singing-place in the Haymarket. Towers, Wake, Collins, and myself were eating an oyster supper, when Hawke came in. He had been dining at the 'Rag,' and had won largely at whist from some young cavalry swells, who had just joined. He was flushed and excited, but not from drinking, for he said he had not tasted anything but claret-cup at dinner. 'You're a mangy-looking lot,' said he, 'with your stewed oysters and stout,' as he came up. 'Why, frozen-out gardeners are fine gentlemen in comparison. Are there no robberies going on at the Ottoman,—nothing doing down at Grimshaw's?'
“'You 're very bumptious about belonging to the “Rag,” Hawke.' said Towers; 'but they 'll serve you the same trick they did me one of these days.'
“'No, sir, they 'll never turn me out,' said Hawke, insolently.
“'More fools they, then,' said the other; 'for you can do ten things for one that I can; and, what's more, you have done them.'
“'And will again, old boy, if that's any comfort to you,' cried Hawke, finishing off the other's malt. 'Waiter, fetch me some cold oysters, and score them to these gentlemen,' said he, gayly, taking his place amongst us. And so we chaffed away, about one thing or another, each one contributing some lucky or unlucky hit that had befallen him; but Hawke always bringing up how he had succeeded here, and what he had won there, and only vexed if any one reminded him that he had been ever 'let in' in his life.