“You’re behaving like a frightened schoolboy Norman. Frightened of being wrong - and you are wrong!”

Chaps - ever wondered why you appear to be living a charmed life? Do you ever take a look at your little white sports car, your glamorous bridge nights, your lack of rape accusations from your students, and think “how did it all go so right?”

Well, take a look across the bridge table at the little woman, because there may be some pointy hat and broomstick shenanigans going on.

Just sayin’.

Because Professor Norman Taylor (Peter Wyngarde) is living that life, and then some.

He spends his days explaining to his doting students that superstitions and things like witchcraft do NOT exist, and there are just four words necessary to destroy the focus of the supernatural: "I do not believe!" (with the "not" underlined on his blackboard – more of this later).

But despite all the good stuff going on in his life, there’s an undercurrent of dislike amongst his teaching colleagues. When this bubbles over at their latest bridge night into accusations that he’s "selling his soul to the devil" for his "charmed life", his wife Tansy (Janet Blair) reacts badly.

And the next day a search of the house leads Norman to discover of a whole host of strange totems and charms, which he piles onto the kitchen table and waits for Tansy's return.

His questions are soon answered: "Isn't it obvious? I'm a witch!"

She's been practising spells taught to her by the witch doctor Corubius during a recent stay in the Caribbean (like you do).

An incredulous Norman, who has built a career out of poo-pooing such things, makes Tansy burn all the charms, despite her protestations that she believes dark forces within the faculty are threatening to destroy him, Norman replying: "If we were to investigate the strange rituals performed by women on their intuition, half the women in the country would be in an asylum…"

Ah, the casual sexism of the early 1960s.

Unfortunately, the dolt also chucks his own photo onto the fire (much to Tansy's horror) - and instantly gets a breathless phone call from a very suggestive woman.

And this is just the start of a 180 in Norman’s life. He narrowly avoids a car crash, a female student brings a charge of rape (or "violating her" as the charming 60s vernacular puts it), and her boyfriend threatens him with a gun.

Yet still Norman refuses to believe that all this has anything to do with the previous night's pyrotechnics. He deals with the rape charge quickly and efficiently, through the power of shouting: "You phoned me on Saturday night, with a very disgusting proposition!" he sensitively tells the crying girl. "When I threatened to hang up, you used vile language - VILE AND FILTHY!"

But the "forces of darkness" don't stop there. A tape of one of Norman's old lectures arrives in the post, with a strange noise overlayed on the top of it. The phone rings, and the peculiar droning can also be heard on the other end of the line. Suddenly an otherworldly screeching comes from outside, but the noises stop before whatever it is can be seen.

Tansy, realising that Norman is woefully unequipped to deal with these paranormal goings-on, decides to take things into her own hands and sacrifice herself to save her husband, and leaves.

Realising she's probably gone to their seaside holiday home (always the best place to kill yourself in a black magic pact), Norman gives chase and saves her from a watery grave by erecting a makeshift altar, showing that all this talk of dark arts is beginning to change his mind.

Tansy thanks him for saving her by attacking him with a knife, clearly now possessed by someone else. Someone with a limp, which leads Norman to deduce just who is pulling the strings here. Tansy isn’t the only witch in the faculty, it seems.

Sometimes a chap just has to pull up his trousers as high as they’ll go (somewhere around nipple level) and roll up his shirt sleeves (once again, absolutely as high as it’s possible to get them) and deal with these pesky witches. Even if they appear to be able to summon up elemental beings (or not).

By the end of all these shenanigans, Norman is definitely not quite as cynical as he was at the beginning, and what do you get if you accidentally wipe the negative off a sentence? Well, the same thing you’d get if you added another negative as it happens. But rest assured, at no point does Norman pick up the chalk again and alter the blackboard so it says “I do not NOT believe”.

Night Of The Eagle is well regarded but a bit of a lost gem. Its crisp black and white photography and spooky lighting, together with a decidedly ambiguous approach to the supernatural aspects, give it a welcome Hitchcock vibe and help it transcend its tiny budget. And the ending is a doozy.