A widow haunted by a dead husband's voice on a moonlit beach. A silken charlatan with a crow on his shoulder, peddling séances to the grieving rich. John Alton's camera does the real haunting here — light carved into knives, shadows that swallow whole rooms, faces lit like crime scenes. What starts as a cheap spiritualist racket curdles into something colder, a con turned inside out until the conman becomes the prey. Gothic mansion noir where every candle flame is a trap. The fog rolls in and never quite lifts.