The night was clear and bright, as he saw when he had opened the casement, and he stopped for an instant to look at the sea and note a belated wanderer stationed on the shore in front of the inn. Then he shut the window, a little surprised at the late hours people kept at Burnstow, and took his whistle to the light again. ©

Happy Birthday, M.R. James, Master of the ironic Macabre and a renowned Cambridge scholar! I will raise my glass in your honour tonight.