"So, gentle reader, open up this book, pick out a tale at random, doesn't matter which, and put your feet up on the old swaybacked sofa in this ancient tumbledown rose cottage at the end of the sandy lane. Listen. Outside the window, a summer nor'easter is brewing. The wind finds a shrill banshee voice. It rattles the shingles and mists hard, chill raindrops off the grey slop dancing out in the harbor...Listen. Thomas Woodbriar's...