They turned round and followed him at a short distance. He entered the Northumberland Court. They followed him, a few minutes later, and Cresswell addressed the hall-porter, whom he knew slightly.
"My name's Cresswell," he said. "I'm on a Government job. Tell me what flat that man asked for who has just gone in?"
"Number sixty-seven, sir," the man replied—"Mrs. Abrahams'."
"Seen him here before?"
"He comes about once a week, sir, generally on a Sunday."
"I shan't move from here," Cresswell declared, turning to his companion. "I shall hold on to that chap myself if he comes out before we can get the men together. Will you hurry, Aaron? There's one at the corner of Parliament Street."
"And the other's here," a quiet voice said behind. "It's all right, Mr. Cresswell. I've sent for Jimmy. I saw that man go in. Know who he is?"
"I do that," the poet assented.
"His ship's been searched twice," the inspector went on. "We had a Secret Service man on board the last time they crossed. Nothing was discovered, but he's under suspicion. When I saw him turn in here, I thought things might be coming our way."
"Inspector," Cresswell asked eagerly, "your powers will allow you to hold him, won't they?"