From my window I found that I commanded a wide, view of the great Place Carnot and the adjacent streets, picturesque with their many lights. I had not switched on my light, and was standing gazing below, when, of a sudden, I distinguished Shaw hurrying out of the hotel again and crossing the Place towards the Pont du Midi, the iron bridge on the right which spans the Rhone. He had in a moment changed both hat and coat, I noticed, and therefore his sudden exit, after having led me to believe he was about to turn in, struck me as curious. So, without hesitation, I, too, slipped on another coat, and putting on a golf cap descended in the lift, and was soon speeding away in the direction he had taken. When halfway across the bridge I saw him walking slowly before me, therefore I held back and watched. I followed him across the river, when he suddenly turned to the left along the Quai Claude Bernard, until at the foot of the next bridge, the Guillotiere, he turned to the left along the Cours Gambetta until he came to a small square, the Place du Pont. There he suddenly halted beneath a lamp and glanced at his watch. Then he idled across to the corner of one of the half-dozen dark, deserted streets which converged there, as though awaiting some one. For a quarter of an hour he remained there calmly smoking, and quite unsuspicious of my proximity. But his patience was at last rewarded, because from the shadow there emerged a female figure in dark jacket and skirt, to which after a moment's hesitation he went forward with words of greeting. They met beneath the light of a street lamp, and from where I stood, hidden in a doorway, I was sufficiently close to get a view of her countenance. I held my breath. It was that of the woman who had stood in the dock of the Old Bailey and been convicted of fraud--the woman who now lived in such style at Ridgehill Manor, and who was known in Bath as Mrs Olliffe. For a moment they stood there in the night, their hands clasped, neither uttering a single word. And yet Shaw had only an hour before declared her to be his most bitter and dangerous enemy! CHAPTER NINETEEN. FALLING SHADOWS. I watched Shaw strolling slowly with, the woman through the ill-lit back streets of Lyons, speaking rapidly with her. She, however, appeared to listen in silent obstinacy. He grew angry, yet she seemed to remain obdurate. She was dressed plainly in tweed skirt and blouse _a la touriste_, and wore a hat with a long veil in the fashion so often adopted by American women visiting Europe. They traversed the working-class district on the eastern side of the Rhone, where from behind the dingy red blinds of the cafes came the sounds of music and laughter, and where many groups of factory hands were idling about enjoying the cool night air. It was a noisy bizarre district, which favoured me, for I could watch the pair unobserved.