The greengrocer had gone into the shop: there was a momentary lull in trade.
George stepped quickly to the door. He read the sprawling handwriting on the notice:
FURNISHED FLAT TO LET
Two bedrooms, sitting room, kitchen, bath.
42/- weekly.
Apply: Harris & Son. Greengrocer. (Next door.)
So they had gone. They had packed up and bolted. In a way, he wasn’t surprised. It was the obvious thing to do. They were making sure that no one would get on to them; that Emily and Max and the two Greeks wouldn’t get the money from them.
He wondered how long they had been gone. It crossed his mind that they might have left a clue which would lead him to them. While he was hesitating, the greengrocer came out and glanced at him inquiringly. Without stopping to think, George blurted out, “I’m interested in this flat.”
“Flat?” the greengrocer repeated. “Yes, it’s still in the market. It’s a nice little place. ’Ave it meself if it weren’t for the stairs. Can’t manage the stairs now. Not as young as I was.”
“Can I see it?” George asked.