The official shrugged his shoulders.
"There is no information that I am aware of against Mrs. Abrahams," he said, "and you must remember that she is, as I told you, a friend of several members of the Cabinet. They would not be likely to listen to anything against her."
"What a country!" the poet sighed. "What officialdom! What methods of making war!"
"Have you anything against Mrs. Abrahams?" Sir Lionel enquired.
"I have," was the prompt reply. "I have no proof to offer because I am an unofficial person and I cannot take those steps which are necessary to procure proof, but I can assure you that every afternoon, from four till six, Mrs. Abraham's drawing-room in the Northumberland Court is a bureau for the meeting of various persons whose interests are inimical to this country."
"Dear me!" the other exclaimed blandly. "What do they do there?"
"I can't tell that," Cresswell admitted. "My idea is that they each bring information of various sorts, which Mrs. Abrahams transmits to Germany."
"Isn't that rather an assumption on your part?"
"An assumption with a very definite background," the poet persisted, unruffled. "For instance, take this afternoon. Amongst Mrs. Abraham's visitors were Professor David, who has spent half his life in Germany, has stumped this country lecturing on German ideals, and since the war has maintained a sedulous and enigmatic silence. There were also present Mr. Halston, who married a German and has had to resign his seat in Parliament owing to his doubtful sympathies; Jack Lovejoy, the German-American actor; two men, who, from their conversation, are, I gathered, censors; and the Minister of a country whom we all know quite well to be inimical to us. These men meet every afternoon. They aren't there for fun, are they, and it isn't by chance that they all have the same point of view."
Sir Lionel stifled what seemed suspiciously like a yawn.