I reached down and felt it.
Goodwin, although the balance of the stones that formed it, like all the stones of the courtyard, were rough and age-worn--this was as smooth, as even surfaced as though it had just left the hands of the polisher.
"'It's a door!' exclaimed Stanton.

'It swings around in that little cup.

That's what makes the hollow so smooth.' "'Maybe you're right,' I replied.

'But how the devil can we open it ?' "We went over the slab again--pressing upon its edges, thrusting against its sides.

During one of those efforts I happened to look up--and cried out.