Protheroe came through the front door. There’s no other way he could have come.”
“Impossible,” I cried.
“Why impossible? Your door stands open. Anyone’s only got to walk in. They can’t be seen from the kitchen. They know you’re safely out of the way, they know Mrs. Clement is in London, they know Mr. Dennis is at a tennis party. Simple as A.B.C. And they don’t need to go or come through the village. Just opposite the Vicarage gate is a public footpath, and from it you can turn into these same woods and come out whichever way you choose. Unless Mrs. Price Ridley were to come out of her front gate at that particular minute, it’s all clear sailing. A great deal more so than climbing over walls. The side windows of the upper storey of Mrs. Price Ridley’s house do overlook most of that wall. No, depend upon it, that’s the way he came.”