If a servant was about, he would not leave it open, and if robbers were in the house, they would close it in order not to attract attention.

It was a great door of massive and magnificent oak, highly polished, with heavy bands of glittering bronze running across it.

But it was so lightly poised on its hinges, that, despite its great weight, a child could have swung it back and forth with his little finger.
Henry Ware, who built the house after his term as governor was over, was always proud of this door.
Dick ran his hand along one of the polished bronze bars as he had often done when he was a boy, enjoying the cool touch of the metal.

Then he put his thumb against the edge of the door, and pushed it a little further open.

Something was wrong here, and he meant to see what it was.
He had no scruples about entering.