His valise, which he opened wide on the table, seemed to be filled with papers, drawings, and matters of that kind.

I suppose he preferred to wear his clothes, instead of carrying them about in his valise.
After sitting for about half an hour after supper, he rose, with an uncertain sort of smile, and said he supposed he must be moving on,--asking, at the same time, how far it was to the tavern over the ridge.
"Just wait one moment, if you please," said Euphemia.

And she beckoned me out of the room.
"Don't you think," said she, "that we could keep him all night?
There's no moon, and it would be a fearful dark walk, I know, to the other side of the mountain.

There is a room upstairs that I can fix for him in ten minutes, and I know he's honest." "How do you know it ?" I asked.
"Well, because he wears such curious-colored clothes.

No criminal would ever wear such clothes.