But overhead the ceiling was constellated in stars, so that it seemed to St.George as if he were looking into a nearer heaven, homing the far lights that he knew.

The Pleiades, Orion, and the Southern Cross, blazing down with inconceivable brilliance, were caught and held captive in the cup of this nearer sky.
"It is like this at night," Olivia said, "but we see nothing in the daytime, save the vague outlines of here and there a star.

But how could he have known?
There is no other door save this." The old man had followed them and stood, his eyes fixed on the shining points.
"It is done well," he said softly, "it makes one feel the firmament." St.George, thrilling with the strangeness of what he saw, and the strangeness of being there with Olivia and this weird old man of the mountain, turned toward him almost fearfully.

How did he know, indeed?
"Ah well," he said, striving to reassure her, "I've no doubt he has wandered in here some evening, while you were at dinner.

No doubt--" He stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on the old man's hand.