In Hamilton Craigie’s The Incubus, a calculated betrayal within the winding, Aztec corridors of a subterranean labyrinth dissolves into an obsessive nightmare of darkness and weight. As Gerald Marston attempts to flee the scene of his crime, the "Stygian darkness" of the tombs and the rhythmic, blood-like dripping of water strip away his sanity.

The tension shifts from a simple murder plot into a claustrophobic struggle against a physical burden that refuses to be shaken. This vintage exploration of guilt and retributive madness provides a steady, rhythmic dread ideal for late-night listening.