Almost unconsciously his mind traveled back to a night in New York, when he had seen another crowd gather in a theater, and then with a thrill he recalled the face that he had beheld there.

He could never account for it, although some connection of circumstances was back of it, but he had a sudden instinctive belief that in this new crowd he would see the same face once more.
It obsessed him like a superstition, and, for the moment, he forgot the horses, the race, and all that had brought him there.

His eye roved on, and then, down, near the front of the seats he found him, shaved cleanly and dressed neatly, like a gentleman, but like one in poor circumstances.

Robert saw at first only the side of his face, the massive jaw, the strong, curving chin, and the fair hair crisping slightly at the temples, but he would have known him anywhere and in any company.
St.Luc sat very still, apparently absorbed in the great race which would soon be run.

In an ordinary time any stranger in Williamsburg would have been noticed, but this was far from being an ordinary time.
The little town overflowed with British troops, and American visitors known and unknown.