The room at the end of the hall had a big door, not one you could just walk up to.  There were at least two people employed to manage it from the outside, and there may have been others on its inside.  The small door handle looked to easily fit into a person’s hand, and, as he was soon to learn, to have no other function.  He stared at it, hoping to detect movement of it before even practiced eyes could.  The door handle never moved, but the door did, very mechanically, slowly, and with great discipline, to the inside, the other side.  A door that opens in this way makes you take a step back, even if your distance from it is great.  It stopped half-way.  It stayed so, till it started to close in its own authoritative way.  And, suddenly, in the last instant, the bent figure of a childlike woman burst out, as if the door had her trapped and hands from the inside had pushed her out.