Immediately after he left the lace shop he became aware that he was being shadowed.

He heard no footfall, and he saw no one, but he _knew_ that this was so; he could feel it down his back, and in a cold wind which blew across his hands, as it had done always at the Villa Ogilvy seances.
The road that he was following led across some public gardens beneath an avenue of trees, which, of course, at this time of the year, were leafless.

This avenue was lighted here and there, and beneath one of the gas lamps Godfrey wheeled round to see Madame Riennes advancing on him out of the gloom.

Her stout form padded forward noiselessly, except for the occasional crackle of a dead and frosted leaf beneath her foot.
She wore a thick cloak of some sort with a black hood that framed her large, white face, making her look like a monk of the Inquisition as depicted in various old prints.

Beneath the blackness of this hood and above the rigid line of the set mouth, stared two prominent and glowing eyes, in which the gaslight was reflected.