He had bought the Church Times at the bookstall and was soon deeply immersed in the report of a Bampton Lecture delivered during the week at the University Church in Oxford.
Some one entered the carriage, the door was shut, and the train began to move out of the station, but he was too interested to look up to see who his companion might be.
A voice broke in upon his thoughts as they were tearing through the wide-spread slums of Bethnal Green.
"Do you mind if I smoke, sir? This isn't a smoking carriage, but we are alone——"
It was an ordinary query enough. "Oh, dear, no!" said the priest. "Please do, to your heart's content. It doesn't inconvenience me."
Father Ripon's quick, breezy manner seemed to interest the stranger. He looked up and saw a personality. Obviously this clergyman was some one of note. The heavy brows, the hawk-like nose, the large, firm, and yet kindly mouth, all these seemed familiar in some vague way.
For his part, Father Ripon experienced much the same sensation as he glanced at the tall stranger. His hair, which could be seen beneath his ordinary hard felt hat, was dark red and somewhat abundant. His features were Semitic, but without a trace of that fulness, and often coarseness, which sometimes marks the Jew who has come to the period of middle life. The large black eyes were neither dull nor lifeless, but simply cold, irresponsive, and alert. A massive jaw completed an impression which was remarkable in its fineness and almost sinister beauty.
The priest found it remarkable but with no sense of strangeness. He had seen the man before.
Recognition came to Schuabe first.