The Green Bungalow by Fred M. White

Blythe had more or less thrust himself into the confidence of Mark Shute, but not for a moment was he trusting to that rascally individual, or his equally shady acquaintance, Macglendy. He knew perfectly well that both of these would throw him over and defy him at the first opportunity, and it was up to him, therefore, to see that the opportunity did not arise. He had his underground methods of obtaining information, and when he left the Metropolitan Hotel about about half-past nine the same night, he had a quite definite object in view.

He came down from his bedroom in the lift, and stole quietly out of the hall, with his coat collar turned up, so as to escape observation.