He expected no such question.
"So far as I know, I've not been making any great alteration in it," he said.
"But it's all covered wi' blood," came the disturbing statement.
A handkerchief soon gave evidence that Bates was not exaggerating.
Miss--or is it Madam ?--Dorothy Perkins can scratch as well as look sweet, and a thorn had opened a small vein in Grant's cheek which bled to a surprising extent.
"Oh, it is nothing," he said.

"I remember now--a rose shoot caught me as I went back into the dining-room a moment ago.

I shouted for you to come and see _this_." Soon the two were examining the rope and the staple.
"Now who put _that_ there ?" said Bates, not asking a question but rather stating a thesis.
"It was not here yesterday," commented his master, accepting all that Bates's words implied.
"No, sir, that it wasn't.

I was a-cuttin' the lawn till nigh bed-time, an' it wasn't there then." Grant was himself again.

He stooped and grabbed the rope.
"Suppose we solve the mystery," he said.
"No need to dirty your hands, sir," put in Bates.