Explore "A Crime on Canvas" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WATNEY waited there a little longer, feeling fairly secure in the knowledge that the lane was not much frequented, and that his presence would not be likely to arouse suspicion. The house upon which his mind was set was surrounded by a high hedge with a belt of firs beyond, so that only the upper windows were visible to anybody who happened to be passing along the lane. Watney noticed that the housemaid who had so luckily placed a clue in his hands had not fastened the door behind her, so that he was free to look into the garden if he chose and spy out the land for himself. This struck him as strange, seeing that the door was a strong one fitted into the solid masonry, and apparently intended to be kept secure against passers-by.
"Evidently not the tradesmen's entrance," Watney muttered to himself. "Very few carts come down this lane, or there would be more wheel ruts, and by the look of that door I should say that it is very seldom used.