The Green Bungalow by Fred M. White

Hilton Blythe, soldier of fortune, card sharper, and man of the world, beautifully turned out and looking every inch the gentleman by birth and breeding that he undoubtedly was, turned into the dining-room of the Brighton Metropolitan the following afternoon to lunch as usual. He had come down there in search of a certain prey that had so far successfully eluded him, but now all thoughts of personal aggrandisement were thrown to the winds. With all that amazing courage and audacity of his, he was a kind-hearted man, loyal enough to his peers and ready to share his spoil with a friend. But there were bigger things to occupy his mind, ghosts from the past were rising and it behoved him to be up and doing lest one that he loved more than life itself was to find lasting unhappiness. In other words he had stumbled on the track of a very pretty conspiracy and he would not be content until he saw the righting of a wrong.

He passed along to the window seat that had been reserved for him as usual, hoping to see more of the young couple that had so intrigued him the day before. They would be lunching there again of course, for he had heard the arrangement made, but though he sat at his meal over long there was no sign of the lovers.