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How many times in after years did Stephen recall with laughter his first impressions of Mercy Philbrick, and wonder how he could have argued so unhesitatingly that a woman who travelled with only one small valise could not be good-looking. "Will you come to the house to-morrow?" he asked. "Oh, no," replied Mercy, "not for three or four weeks yet. Our furniture will not be here under that time."
In such a serious business you must keep your mouth shut. Well, and you, too, mother, seem to have scented us when we stood near you. The faces of honest people can be told at once. Not many of them walk the streets, to speak frankly. Your valise is in my house." He sat down alongside of her and looked entreatingly into her eyes. "If you wish to empty it we'll help you, with pleasure.
The last I ever saw of this man was his getting into a cab at Prince's Dock Gates in Liverpool, and driving off alone to parts unknown. He had nothing but a valise with him, and an umbrella; but his pockets looked stuffed out; perhaps he used them for carpet-bags.
Evidently he had not heard of our hero's arrival. "Ha!" exclaimed the red-haired lad, "I've been looking for you. The police want you, Tom Swift." "Oh, do they?" asked the young inventor gently. "Yes; for robbery. I'm going to get the reward, too. You thought you were smart, but I saw those burglar tools in your valise. I sent the police after you. So you've come back, eh?
The porter came forward and took his horse. "I need a room," said Wogan, and he entered the house. There were people going up and down the stairs. While he was unstrapping his valise in his bedroom, a servant with an apron about his waist knocked at the door and inquired whether he could help him.
At the junction Scattergood changed for the short ride to town, and there he carried his ancient valise up to the Mountain House, where he registered. "Young feller named Nixon Ovid Nixon stoppin' here?" he asked the clerk. "Checked out Monday night." "Um!... Monday night, eh? Expect him back? I was calc'latin' on meetin' him here to-day." "He usually gets in Saturday night.... You might ask Mr.
And he put the originals and thirty-one of the copies in thirty-two different safe-deposit vaults in the city, and took the other copy to his home in a valise. And that night burglars broke in, and the valise was missing.
Pretty soon it was nearly noon that day, and Uncle Wiggily was about to sit down on a nice green mossy bank in the woods not a toy bank with money in it, you understand, but a dirt-bank, with moss on it like a carpet. That's where he was going to sit. "I think I'll eat my dinner," said the old gentleman rabbit as he opened his valise, and just then he heard a voice in the woods singing.
He lifted the valise lightly, shook it, and said: "Why, it's empty! Marya, show the guest the way to my house," and he walked off without looking around. "Are you going to stay here overnight?" asked the girl. "Yes. I'm after lace; I buy lace." "They don't make lace here. They make lace in Tinkov and in Daryina, but not among us." "I'm going there to-morrow; I'm tired."
"You are sure you saw him go toward the house?" "Yes, that was plain enough, although he seemed to be sneakin' along the bushes." "Was it the same man?" "It must have been, but I couldn't see his valise, because he was behind the bushes." "How did the man look?" "He was a putty heavy fellow and he was dressed in a light gray suit and wore a soft hat to match."
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