The two bags weren't there.
I ran to the entrance and nearly collided with the redcap.
"See anybody go out of here with a little red bag and an old battered suitcase?"
"Bag? Suitcase?" he mumbled. Then he became excited. "Why, a man just stepped out of here—" He turned to look down the street. "That's him."
The dumpy man I'd seen was walking off; Julia's bag in his right hand, mine in his left. He seemed in no hurry.
"Hey!" I shouted, starting toward him.
The man turned, took one look at me, and started to run. He came abreast an old gray, mud-spattered coupe, ran around, opened the door and threw both bags into the rear seat as he got in.
The car was a hundred feet away and gathering speed by the time I reached where it had been parked. I watched it for a moment, then walked back to the entranceway where Julia was standing with the redcap, who said, "That man steal them suitcases?"
"That he did," I said.
Just then the airport policeman started across the street from the parking lot. Redcap said, "Better tell him about it."