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Lastly, Mr Maddox said, and to conclude our tour, we come to a very special part of the house.

He paused to impress on her that she was going to have a treat.

Perhaps, Miss Marcella, it may be that in your last situation, the house did not have a panic room.

Marcella put her hand to her mouth. God help them. The family going together or one at a time.

There is capacity for all the family, Mr. Maddox said, the need arising. Which God forbid.

Which God forbid, she repeated. The idea of group agitation. How she wondered, does panic, ignite and spread?

Is it parents to children?

Children to parents?

Can the doctor do nothing for them? she asked.

There are pills to stop fear.

Also, they say, breathe into a paper bag.

It does good in some way. I am sure how mr maddox the butler turned his eyes on her and she knew she had made an error

perhaps she had shown over-familiarity or perhaps she had mistaken his meaning. This seemed likely. So it is not, she said,

a room you go in when you are frightened. It is not a mere room, Mr. Maddox said, but a facility.

Follow, and I will show you. But he turned back. If you were making a joke, I heartily

discourage you. I myself benefited from the care of English nursery teacher. I am joking

like a native speaker. But in such exclusive post codescodes as st john's wood or in any leafy part of this great metropolis it is easy to give offence

he patted the porch beneath his t-shirt we are a modern informal, she had been told.

Miss Marcella, he said, come with me.

She would never have guessed the door they passed through was a door at all.

It seemed like mere wall.

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