As he spoke, he fixed a scornful gaze upon the drunken man who was now coming to the door, trying, too, to sit straight in the saddle, as if he knew that his brother’s disapproving eyes were on him. A little way from the entrance stood a large stone horse-block, from which the women of the household mounted, and toward this Sir Thomas Carew urged his horse. “He has been gaming at Exeter,” Sir William remarked coldly; “he is ever thus after he has been brawling and drinking in a public house. I have not seen him for a twelvemonth, and I doubt not that he comes to borrow a hundred pounds; such is like to be his case. ’Pon my soul, a meritorious beggar!” The words were scarcely spoken ere Sir Thomas struck his spur again into his horse’s bleeding flank. The great brute plunged, swerving madly to one side; his tipsy rider, reeling from the saddle, fell headlong upon the stone block, rolled over and lay in a hideous heap at his brother’s feet. The horse turning about as suddenly, trampled him under foot and rushed back toward the stables, clearing a wide path in the crowd of spectators who had come out to view the accident. Sir William and Raleigh both hastened to the fallen man, but something in the limpness of his figure told its own story. He lay face downward, and they turned him over to find a lump of mangled flesh, his neck being broken just below the skull, and his drink-blurred eyes stared into space. “Stone dead,” Carew said sternly; “cut off in his sins. God pity him, for he is like enough to be damned!” “Here is a sad end,” rejoined Raleigh, looking gravely at the dead man; “a gallant gentleman brought into such a case by evil communications. Lend a hand, good fellow, and we will carry in this body,” he added, addressing the nearest bystander, for the curious crowd had gathered in a constantly narrowing circle around the central figures. “Let be, Raleigh,” Sir William interposed coldly; “these grooms shall take him up; he deserved less for the dishonor he has brought upon his name.” With the same proud indignation, unforgiving even to the dead, he directed the removal of the corpse, and then he and Raleigh followed it into the house. Without, all tongues were loosed at their departure and gossip flowed on every hand, and there was food enough for it in such a life and such a death as this. “I told Sir Tom ’twould be so!” one of the spectators said, with the air of a man who felt justified; “that brute was like to end some man’s life, and who but a Carew would back him in the state of liquor that yonder poor gentleman was?” “That horse? Why, man, he held him above all else he had,” cried another; “he valued the beast above his daughter.” “Like enough,” was the reply; “certain it is that he valued him above his wife, poor lady!” “She has been dead these many years, I take it,” said a third; for, after the fashion of all such leeches, they were eager to discuss the affairs of the family whose substance they devoured.