It was not there when he had closed the room yesterday afternoon.
Either Uncle Ben had been there last night, or had anticipated him this morning.

But in the latter case he would scarcely have overlooked his fallen property--that, in the darkness of the night, might have readily escaped detection.

His brow darkened with a sudden conviction that it was Uncle Ben who was the real and only offender, and that his simplicity of the previous night was part of his deception.

A sickening sense that he had been again duped--but why or to what purpose he hardly dared to think--overcame him.

Who among these strange people could he ever again trust?
After the fashion of more elevated individuals, he had accepted the respect and kindness of those he believed his inferiors as a natural tribute to his own superiority; any change in THEIR feelings must therefore be hypocrisy or disloyalty; it never occurred to him that HE might have fallen below their standard.
The arrival of the children and the resumption of his duties for a time diverted him.