I told her I didn't know how much more time there was, that I'd been
thinking it over and that the only way out seemed to be to tell the
airport policeman. After I explained it to her, the girl--she said her
name was Julia Claremont--agreed to tell him she thought there was a
bomb in her bag, that she had noticed a ticking and had become worried
because she knew she hadn't packed a clock. It wasn't good, but it
would have to do.
"We've got to get it deactivated," I said, watching the fat man pay for
his coffee and leave. "The sooner the better."
* * * * *
I finished my coffee in one gulp and went to pay the bill with her.
I asked her why she didn't claim the bag at the same time the other
people had. She said she had called her sister and the phone was busy
for a long while.
"She was supposed to meet me, and when she wasn't here, I got worried.
She said she isn't feeling well and asked me to take a cab." She smiled
a little. It was a bright, cheery thing. I had the feeling it was all
for me. "That's where I was going when you caught up with me."
It had become a very nice day. But the bottom dropped out of it again
when we reached the lobby.
The two bags weren't there.