Through a crack of the pantry door the guest was visible. He sat in a window-corner, elbows on table, face crotched between both hands. Sunset glow faded in till and tap-room. Winds went down with the sun. Through an open casement behind him came the steady roar of ocean, seeming to grow louder as the still world darkened. Aromatic odours of cinnamon, lime-juice, malt; of spirits, of brown sugar, hung heavy in tap-room and till, tinctured by freshening fragrance of mounting seas.