Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
complained. It started when I was a kid, this business of being able to explore I was a little disappointed. I've run across a gun or two in my time. But I never say anything. I learned the wisdom of keeping my mouth shut in the fourth grade when Miss Winters, a stern, white-haired disciplinarian, ordered me to eat my sack lunch in the classroom with her instead of outside with some of the other kids. This was the punishment for some minor infraction. her absence, which I dutifully did. Class had hardly resumed when she started looking around the desk for her favorite mechanical pencil, asking if any of us had seen it, and "It's in your purse," I blurted out. I was sent home with a stinging note. Since then I've kept quiet. At one time I assumed everybody was able to sense. I've known better for years. Still, I wonder how many other people are as close-mouthed about their special gift as I am about mine. can't stand the alarm. When I first learned to do this, I thought I had it made. I even went So I'm stuck with a talent I've found little real use for. Except that it amuses me. Sometimes. Not like this time on the plane. I never did find my suitcase because I found the bomb first. The bomb was in a small bag—a woman's bag judging by the soft, bomb right away. I thought it was just a clock, one of those small, quiet alarms. I was going to pass it by and go on, but what held me thought: Which one of these.... No, none of them would know it was my mouth was dry and my mind was numb. Tell somebody about the bomb before it's too late! No, they'd think I put it there. Besides, what good would it do? There would be panic and they'd never get the plane down in time—if they believed me. I goggled at her, managed to croak, "No, thanks." She gave me an odd look and moved along. My seatmate had accepted hers and was tearing at the cellophane. I couldn't bear to watch her. like trying to work with greasy hands, and I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to stop it. Then, little by little, it started to slow its beat. But I could not afford to relax. I pushed and pulled and didn't dare release my hold until it came to a dead stop. "Anything the matter?" she came I told her I'd take some of that coffee now. No, nothing else, just coffee. I didn't tell her how much I needed it. I sat there clammy I considered telling the authorities as soon as we landed, or maybe calling in ahead, but wouldn't that just bring suspicion, questions. Maybe I could convince them I could stop a clock—but not before the bomb exploded. And then what? My secret would be out and my life would be changed. I'd be a man not to be trusted, a prying man, a man unconcernedly as they through the exit gate. I would have liked walking through the terminal and out the entrance and away, but I could not. I had my suitcase to get, for one thing. The damned bomb was the other. It was impossible to tell from this distance just which bag contained the bomb determine who had got the one with the bomb. Now all that was left was "Yeah." He was so bored I was tempted to tell him what was in it. But he was eying me with a "well-why-don't-you-get-along?" look. I said, "What happens if nobody claims it?" "Take it inside. Why?" He was getting too curious. "Oh, I just wondered, that's all." I stepped on my cigarette and walked toward the air terminal entrance and put my suitcase on the stone steps there. A redcap came hurrying Just waiting for somebody to pick up a bomb. through my head as to why it should still be there, and none satisfied me. I should not have been there, that much I knew I should be with a something very mundane, the matter of a printing order. But what could I do? If I left the airport, the attendant would eventually take the bag inside and there would be an explosion, and I wouldn't be able to No. I had to stay to keep the balance wheel stationary until—until what? A man in tan gabardine, wearing a police cap and badge, walked out of But he moved on down the steps, nodded at the redcap, and started across the street to the parking area. I could have called to him, "Hey, officer, let me tell you about a bomb in a little red bag." But many minutes—or seconds—were left? I was sweating when I moved to the counter, and it wasn't because of the sunshine I'd been soaking in. I had to get as close to the bag as I could if I was going to stop the "No. I'm waiting for someone." I turned my back to him, put down my suitcase, leaned against the counter and reached out for the wheel. I found I could reach the At her side and a little ahead of her, I said, "Listen to me." She looked annoyed and increased her stride toward the door. "It's a matter of life or death," I said. I wanted to wrest the bag from her and hurl it out through the doorway into the street, but I restrained myself. She stopped and stared. I noticed a short, fat man in a rumpled suitcoat and unpressed pants staring, too. Ignoring him, I said, "Please put the bag down. Over there." I indicated a spot beside a telephone booth where it would be out of the way. She didn't move. She just said, "Why?" The girl said, "Why?" I was beginning to think it was the only word she knew. At the same time I was wondering why anyone would want to kill "I'll explain in a moment. Please stand right here while I make a telephone call." I moved toward the phone booth, paused and said, "And don't ask me why." I must not have seemed a complete idiot because she said, "All right, but—" range it wasn't difficult to stop the balance wheel. Just the same, when I came out I was wringing wet. "Now will you please tell me what this is all about?" she said stiffly. ability, how she was the first person I had ever revealed it to, and how I had discovered what was in her overnight bag. there when I finished. I asked her who put the bomb in her bag. in some books we'd both finished reading—for my sister. That's when he must have put the—put it in there." I said gently, "Why would he want to do a thing like that?" "I don't know." She shook her head. "I just don't know." And she was close to bawling again. Then she recovered and said, "I'm not sure I want to know." I admired her for saying it. Joe must have been crazy. 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 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." "Bag? Suitcase?" he mumbled. Then he became excited. "Why, a man just The policeman was sympathetic and concerned. He said, "We'd better get over to the office." We stood there. I could visualize the wreckage of an old gray coupe in the middle of a street, but I couldn't visualize the driver. That was all right. I didn't want to see him. I didn't know what Julia was thinking. She said, "About those bags," and looked at me. "Well," the policeman said, "I can't make

<question>:
Which is not a reason the narrator did not tell anyone about the bomb when he discovered it?

<options>:
A He did not want to have to explain how he knew it was there
B He figured it was futile, if there were no specialists to disarm it on board
C He thought he might be able to keep it from becoming dangerous if he tried hard enough
D He did not want to be asked to diffuse it because he did not know how

<answer>:

D