Mr.Latham would see him--yes.

In fact, Mr.Latham, harried by the events of the past two hours, bewildered by a hundred-million-dollar diamond deal which had been thrust down his throat gracefully, but none the less certainly, and ridden by the keenest curiosity, was delighted to see Mr.Birnes.
"I've got his house address all right," Mr.Birne boasted, in the beginning.

Of course it was against the ethics of the profession to tell _how_ he got it.
"Progress already," commented Mr.Latham with keen interest.

"That's good." Then the detective detailed the information he had received from the maid, adding thereto divers and sundry conclusions of his own.
Mr.Latham marveled exceedingly.
"He tried to shake us all right when he went out," Mr.Birnes went on to explain, "but the trap was set and there was no escape." With certain minor omissions he told of the cab ride to Sixty-seventh Street, the trip across to a downtown car, and, as a matter of convincing circumstantial detail, added the incident of the empty gripsack.
"Empty ?" repeated Mr.Latham, startled.

"Empty, did you say ?" "Empty as a bass drum," the detective assured him complacently.